■^^ 


iif^^i' 


^mi^' 


<^-|/rv  I -'Ik. 


r^ 


"> 


n'^Cy' 


COL.  GEORGE  WASHINGTON  FLOWERS 
MEMORIAL  COLLECTION 


TRINITY  COLLEGE  LIBRARY 
DURHAM,  N.C. 


The  Gift  of /f  I       /^' ^^^^^t^<^,^-4/ 


\-^'\ 


uv 


fwt^. 


v<^ 


/ 


i^ 


.O' 


>^ 


i>' 


^; 


Copt/righi    f$€cured.  "  #^ 


^JTK? 


JOSEPH 


if 


ANJ}  nm  COURT. 


BY  L.  MUHLIIACH. 


BY  ADELAIDE  DeV.  CHAUDRON. 


VOLUME  1. 


MOBILE: 
S.  H.  GOETZEL,  PUBLISHER 


1864 


Farrowt  Dennett,  Printers,  MoWlo.      (^ 


n 


u 


Af 


^^ 


f 


"^s— \S-^'/W 


JOSEPH  II. 


AND  HIS  COUET. 


%,n  ^istorixal  Uobtl, 


BY  L.  MUHLBACn, 


iFront  tljt  CSermarf, 

BY  ADELAIDE  DeV.  CHAUDRON. 


VOLUME  I. 


MOBILE: 

a  H.  GOETZEL,  PUBLISHER. 
1864 


I 


^T-^. 


/ 1  ^  7  y 


JOSEPH  IL  AND  HIS  COURT. 


MARIA  THERESA. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE    CONFERENCE. 


In  the  council-chamber  of  the  Empress  Maria  Theresa,  the  six  lord?, 
who  composed  her  cabinet-council,  awaited  the  entrance  of  their  imperial 
mistress  to  open  the  sitting. 

At  this  sitting,  a  great  political  question  was  to  be  discussed  ;  and  its 
gravity  seemed  to  be  reflected  in  the  faces  of  the  lords,  as  in  low  tones, 
they  whispered  together  in  the  dim  spacious  apartment,  whose  antiquated 
furniture  of  dark  velvet  tapestry  corresponded  well  with  the  anxious 
looks  of  its  occupants. 

In  the  centre  of  the  room  stood  the  Baron  Von  Bartenstein  and  the 
Count  Von  Uhlefeld,  the  two  powerful  statesmen,  who  for  thirteen  years 
had  been  honored  by  the  confidence  of  the  Empress.  Together  they 
stood,  their  consequence  acknowledged  by  all,  while  with  proud  and 
lofty  mien  they  whispered  of  state  secrets. 

Upon  th,e  fair,  smooth  face  of  Bartenstein  appeared  an  expression  of 
haughty  triumph,  which  he  was  at  no  pains  to  conceal ;  and  over  the 
delicate  mouth  of  Von  Uhlefeld  fluttered  a  smile  of  ineffable  compla- 
cency. ' 

"  I  feel  perfectly  secure,"  whispered  Von  Bartenstein.  *'  The  Empress 
will  certainly  renew  the  treaties,  and  continue  the  policy,  which  we  both 
have  hitherto  pursued,  with  such  brilliant  results  to  Austria." 

"  The  Empress  is  wise,"  returned  Uhlefeld.  "  She  can  reckon  upon 
our  staunch  support,  and  so  long  as  she  pursues  this  policy,  we  will  sus- 
tain her." 

While  he  spoke,  there  shot  from  his  eyes  such  a  glance  of  conscious 
power,  that  the  two  lords  who  from  the  recess  of  a  neighboring  window, 
were  watching  the  imperial  favorites,  w.ere  completely  dazzled. 

"See  Countj"  murmured  one  to  the  othefj  "see  how  Count  Uhlefeld 


182065 


4  josKrn  TEESEco::^©. 

pn>ilc<?  to  day.     Doubtless  he  knows  ul ready  what  the  decision  of  the 
tnipress  is  to  be;  and  that  it  is  in  accordauce  willi  his  wishes,  no  one' 
c:in  doubt,  who  looks  upon  him  now." 

"It  will  be  well  for  us,"  replied. Count  Colloredo,  "to  subscribe  un- 
condiiionully  .to  the  opinions  of  the  Lord-Chancellor.  I,  for  my  part, 
will  do  so  ail  the  more  roadily,  that  I  confess  to  you  my  utter  ignorance 
of  the  qtieslion  that  is  to  come  before  us  today.  I  was  really  so  pre- 
occupied at  our  last  sitiinj;  that  I — I  failed  exactly  to  comprehend  its 
nature.  1  think,  therefore,  that  it  will  be  well  for  us  to  vote  with  Count 
Von  Uhlefeld — that  is,  if  the  President  of  the  Aulic  Council,  Count 
Ilarrach,  does  not  entertain  other  opinions." 

Count  Harrach  bowed.  "As  for  me,^'  sighed  he,  "I  must,  as  usual, 
vote  with  Count  Bartenstein.  His,  will  be  as  it  ever  is,  the  decisive 
voice  of  the  day  ;  and  its  echo  will  be  heard  from  the  lips  of  the  Em- 
press. Let  us  echo  them  both,  and  so  be  the  means  of  helping  to  crush 
the  presumption  of  yonder  crafty  and  arrogant  courtier." 

As  he  spoke  he  glanced  towarcTs  the  massive  table  of  carved  oak, 
around  which  were  arranged  the  leather  arm-chairs  of  the  members  of  the 
Aulic  Council.  Count  Colloredo  followed  the  glance  of  his  friend,  which 
wit  ha  supercilious  expression,  rested  upon  the  person  to  whom  he  alluded. 
This  person  was  seated  in  one  of  the  chairs,  deeply  absorbed  in  the  pe- 
rusal of  the  papers  ihat  lay  before  him  upon  the  table.  He  was  a  man 
of  slight  and  elegant  proportions,  whose  youthful  face  contrasted  singu- 
larly with  the  dark,  manly,  and  weather-beaten  countenances  of  the  other 
members  of  the  council.  Not  a  fault  marred  the  beauty  of  this  fiir  face : 
not  the  shadow  of  a  wrinkle  ruflled  the  polish  of  the  brow;  even  the 
lovely  mouth  itself  was  free  from  those  lines  by  which  thought  and  care 
are  wont  to  mark  the  passage  of  man  through  life.  One  thing,  however, 
was  wanting  to  this  beautiful  conntenance.  It  was  devoid  of  expression. 
Those  delicate  features  were  immobile  and  stony.  Not  a  trace  of  emo- 
tion stirred  the  compressed  lips;  no  shadow  of  thought  flickered  over 
the  high,"  marble  brow  ;  and  the  glance  of  those  clear,  light,  blue  eyes 
was  as  calm,  cold,  and  unfeeling  as  those  of  a  statue.  This  young  man, 
with  Medusa-liko  brauty,  was  Anthony  Wenzel  Von  Kaunitz,  whom 
Maria  Theresa  had  lately  recalled  from  Paris  to  take  his  seat  in  her 
cabinet-council. 

The  looks  of  Harrach  and  Colloredo  were  directed  towards  him,  but  he 
appeared  not  to  observe  them,  and  went  on  quietly  with  his  examination 
ojf  the  state  papers. 

"You  think  then,  Count,"  whispered  Colloredo,  thoughtfully,  " that 
young  Kaunitz  cherishes  the  absurd  hope  of  an  alliance  with  France?" 

"  1  am  sure  of  it — I  know  that  a  few  days  ago  the  French  ambassador 
delivered  to  him  a  most  affectionate  missive,  from  his  friend  the  Mar- i 
quise  de  Pompadour ;  and  I  know  too,  that  yesterday  he  replied  to  it  in 
similar  strain.     It  is  his  fixed  idea,  and   that  of  La  Pompadour  also,  to 
drive  Austria  into  a  new  line  of  policy,  by  making  her  the  ally  of  France." 

Count  Colloredo  laughed.    "  The  best  cure  that  I  know  of  for  fixed 


MARL\  THERESA.  .  5 

ideas  is  the  madhouse,"  replied  he.  "And  thither  we  will  send  littla 
Kuunilz  if " 

lie  ceased  suddenly,  for  Kaunitz  bad  slowly  ^ni^ed  his  eyes  froni  the 
table,  and  they  now  rested  with  such  aii  icy  gaze  upon  the  smiling  uice 
of  Colloredo,  that  the  frightened  statesman  shivered. 

"If  he  siiuuld  have  heard   me!"  murmured  he.     "  If  he "  but  the 

poor  Cuunt  had  no  further  time  for  reflection  ;  for  at  that  inoment  the 
folding-doors  leading  to  the  private  apartments  of  the  Empre.ss  were 
thrown  open,  and  the  Lord  High  Slewaid  announced  the  approach  of 
her  Majesty. 

The  councilors  advanced  to  the  table,  and  in  respectful  silence  await- 
ed the  imperial  entrance. 

The  rustling  of  silk  was  heard  ;  and  then  the  quick  step  of  the  Coun-  ' 
tess  Fuchs,  whose  duty  it  was  to  accompany  the  Empress  to  the  thres- 
hold of  her  council-chamber,  and  to  close  the  door  behind  her. 

And  now  appeared  the  majestic  figure  of  the  Empress.  The  lords  laid 
their  hands  upon  their  swords,  and  inclined  their  heads  in  reverence  be- 
fore the  imperial  lady,  who  with  light,  elastic  step  advanced  to  the  table, 
while  the  Countess  Fuchs  noiselessly  closed  the  door,  and  retired. 

The  Einpress  smilingly  acknowledged  the  salfftalion,  though  her  sniile 
was  lost  to  her  respectful  subjects,  who  in  obedience  to  the  strict  Span- 
ish etiquette  which  prevailed  at  the  Austrian  Court,  remainrd  with  their 
heads  bent,  until  the  sovereign  had  taken  her  seat  upon  the  throne. 

One  of  these  subjects  had  bent  his  head  with  the  rest,  but  he  had  ven- 
tured to  raise  it  again,  and  he  at  least  met  the  glance  of  royally.  This 
bold  subject  was  Kaunitz,  the  youngest  of  the  councilors. 

lie  gazed  at  the  advancing  Empress,,  and  for  the  first  time  a  smile 
flitted  over  his  stony  features.  And  well  might  the  sight  of  his  sovereign 
lady  stir  the  marble  heart  of  Kaunitz,  for  Maria  Theresa  was  one  of  ihe 
loveliest  women  of  her  "day.  Though  thirty  six  years  of  age,  and  the 
mother  of  thirteen  children,  she  was  still  beautiful,  and  the  Austrinns  were 
proud  to  excess  of  her  beauty.  Her  high,  lh(nu:hlful  forehead  was  shnded 
by  a  profusion  of  blond  hair,  which  lightly  powdered  and  gathered  up  l>e- 
hind  in  one  rich  mass,  was  there  confined  by  a  golden  net.  Iler  large, 
starry  eyes  were  of  that^peculiar  grey  which  changes  sviih  every  emotion 
of  the  soul;  at  one  time  seeming  to  be  heavenly  blue;  at  another  the 
darkest  and  most  flashing  brown.  Her  bold  profile  betokened  great  pride; 
but  every  look  of  haughtiness  was  softened  away  by  the  enchanting  ex- 
pression of  a  mouth,  in  whose  exquisite  beauty  no  trace  of  the  so-called 
"Austrian  lip"  could  be  seen.  Her  figure,  loftier  than  is  usual  with  wo- 
men, was  of  faultless  symmetry,  while  her  graceful  bust  would  have  seem- 
ed to  the  eyes  of  Praxiteles  the  waking  to  life  of  his  own  dre.ims  of  Juno. 

Those  who  looked  upon  this  beautiful  Etnf)ress,  could  well  realize  the 
emotions  which  thirteen  years  before  had  stirred  the  hearts  of  the  Hun- 
garian Nobles,  as  she  stood  before,  them,  and  had  wrought  them  uj)  to 
that  height  of  enthui^iasm  which  culminated  in  the  well  kiiown  bhuuL  q£ 

"  MORIAMOB  VRO  REQI  NOSTRA." 


(3  JOSEPH  THE  SKCOI^U 

"Oar  King  !"  cried  tlio  Hunrrnrians,  and  t1f»y  were  right.  For  Mari:i 
Theresa,  who  with  her  husbaiul,  was  the  tender  wife,  towards  her  child- 
ren,  the  loving  mother,  was  in  all  that  related  to  her  empire,  her  people, 
and  her  sovereignty,  a  man  both  in  the  scope  of  her  comprehension  and 
the  strength  of  her  will.  She  was  capable  of  sketching  bold  lines  of 
policy,  and  of  following  them  out  without  reference  to  personal  predilec- 
tions* or  prejudices,  both  of  which  she  was  fully  competent  to  stifle, 
wherever  they  threatened  interference  with  the  good  of  her  realm,  or  her 
sense  of  duty  as  a  sovereign. 

The  energy  and  determination  of  her  character  were  written  upon  the 
lofty  brow  of  Maria  Theresa,  and  now  as  she  appro.iched  her  councilors, 
these  characteristics  beamed  forth  from  her  countenance  with  such  power 
and  such  beauty,  that  Kauniiz  himself  wits  overawed,  atid  for  one  moment 
a  smile  lit  up  his  cold  features. 

No  one  saw  this  smile  except  the  imperial  lady  that  had  waked  the 
Memnon  into  life,  and  in  return  for  the  compliment,  she  slightly  bent 
her  Juno  head,  as  she  took  her  seat  upon  the  throne. 

Now  with  her  clear  and  sonorous  voice,  she  invited  her  councilors  also 
to  be  seated  ;  and  at  once  reached  out  her  hand  for  the  memoranda  which 
Count  Bartenstein  had  prepared  for  her  examination. 

She  glanced  quickly  over  the  papers,  and  laid  them  aside.  "  My 
Lords  of  the  Aulic  Council,"  said  she,  in  tones  of  deep  earnestness,  "wo 
have  to-day  a  question  of  gravest  import  to  discuss.  I  crave  thereunto 
your  attention  and  advice.  We  are  at  this  sitting  to  deliberate  upon  the 
future  policy  of  Austria,  and  deeply  significant  will  be  the  result  of  this 
day's  deliberations  to  Austria's  welfare.  Some  of  our  old  treaties  are 
about  to  expire.  Time,  which  has  somewhat  moderated  the  bitterness  . 
of  our  enemies,  seems  also  to  have  weakened  the  amity  of  our  friends. 
Both  arc  dying  tiway  ;  and  the  question  now  bcfore.us  is,  whether  we 
shall  extinguish  enmity,  or  rekindle  friendship.  For  seventy  years  past, 
England,  Holland,  and  Sardinia  have  been  our  allies.  For  three  hundred 
years,  France  has  been  our  hereditary  enemy.  Shall  we  renew  our 
alliance  with  the  former  powers,  or  seek  new  relations  with  the  latter? 
Let  mc  hiivo  your  views  rny  Lords." 

With  these  concluding  words,  Maria  Theresa  waved  her  hand,  and 
pointed  to  Count  Uhlefold.  The  Lord  Chancellor  arose,  and  with  a  dig- 
nified inclination  of  the  head,  responded  to  the  appeal. 

"  Since  your  Majesty  permits  mo  to  speak,  I  vote  without  hesitation 
for  the  renewal  of  our  treaty  with  the  Maritime  Powers.  For  seventy 
years  our  relations  with  these  powers  have  been  amicable  and  honorable, 
in  our  days  of  greatest  extremity — when  Louis  XIV  took  Alsatia  and 
the  City  of  Strasburg,  and  his  ally,  the  Turkish  Sultan,  beseiged  Vienna 
— when  two  powerful  enemies  threatened  Austria  with  destruction,  it 
was  this  alliance  with  the  Maritime  Powers  and  with  Sardinia,  which 
next  to  the  succor  of  the  generous  King  of  Poland,  saved-»the  Austrian 
Empire  from  ruin.  The  brave  Sobieski  saved  our  capital,  and  Savoy 
held  Lombardy  in  check,  while  England  and  Holland  guarded  the  Neth- 


MARIA  THER£?A.  7 

erlands,  which  since  the  Jays  of  Phih'p  II  Iteve  ever  been  the  nest  of  r«» 
bellion  and  revolt.  Wo  owe  it  therefore  to  this  alliance  that  your 
Majesty  still  reigns  over  these  seditions  provinces.  To  Savoy  we  arc 
indebted  for  Lombardy ;  while  France !  perfidious  France  has  not  only 
robbed  us  of  our  territory,  but  to  this  day,  asserts  her  right  to  its  posses- 
sion. No,  your  Majesty  !  So  long  as  France  retains  that  which  be- 
longs to  Austria,  Austria  will  neither  forgive  her  enmity  nor  forget  it. 
See,  on  the  contrary,  how  the  Maritime  Powers  have  befriended  us.  It 
was  their  gold  that  enabled  us  first  to  withstand  France,  and  afterwards 
Prussia — their  gold  that  filled  your  Majesty's  coffers — their  gold  that 
sustained  and  confirmed  the  prosperity  of  your  Majesty's  dominii.,ns. 
This  is  the  alliance  that  I  advocate,,  and  with  all  my  heart  I  vote  for  its 
renewal.  It  is  but  just  that  the  Princes  and  Rulers  of  Earth  should 
give  example  to  the  world  of  good  faith  in  their  dealings,  for  the  integrity 
of  the  sovereign  is  a  pledge  to  all  nations  of  the  integrity  of  his  people." 

Count  Uhlefeld  resumed  his  seat,  and  after  him  rose  the  powerful 
fiivorite  of  the  Empress,  Count  Bartenstein,  who  in  a  long  and  animated 
address,  came  vehemently  to  the  support  of  Uhlefeld. 

Then  came  Counts  Colloredo  and  Harrach,  and  the  Lord  High  Stew- 
ard, Count  Khevenhiiller — all  unanimous  for  a  renewal  of  the  old  treaty. 
Not  one  of  these  rich  and  proud  nobles  would  have  dared  to  breathe  a 
sentiment  in.  opposition  to  the  two  powerful  statespnen  that  had  spoken 
\)efore  them.  Bartenstein  and  Uhlefeld  had  passed  the  word.  The  al- 
liance must  continue  with  those  maritime  powers,  from  whose  subsidies 

such  unexampled  wealth  had  flowed  into  the  coflfers.of  Austria,  and 

those  of  the  Lords  of  the  Exchequer.  For  up  to  the  times  of  which  we 
■write,  it  was  a  fundamental  doctrine  of  court  faith,  that  the  task  of  in- 
quiry into  the  accounts  of  the  imperial  treasury,  was  one  far  beneath  the 
dignity  of  the  sovereign.  The  Lords  of  the  Exchequer,  therefore,  were 
responsible  to  nobody  for  their  administration  of  the  funds  arising  from 
the  Dutch  and  English  subsidies. 

It  was  natural  then,  that  the  majority  of  the  Aulic  Council  should  vote 
for  the  old  alliance.  While  they  argued  and  voted,  Kaunitz,  the  least 
important  personage  of  them  all,  sat  perfectly  unconcerned,  paying  not 
the  slightest  attention  to  the  wise  deductions  of  his  colleagues.  He 
seemed  much  occupied  in  straitening  loose  papers,  mending  his  pen,  and 
removing  with  his  finger-tips,  the  tiny  specks  that  flecked  the  lustre  of 
his  velvet  coat.  Once,  while  IBartenstein  was  delivering  his  long  address, 
Kaunit2;  carried  his  indiflerence  so  far  as  to  draw  out  his  repeater,  (on 
which  was  painted  a  portrait  of  La  Pompadour  set  in  diamonds,)  and  to 
strike  the  hour!  The  musical  ring  of  the  little  bell  sounded  a  fairy  ac- 
companiment to  the  deep  and  earnest  tones  of  Bartenstein's  voice ;  while 
Kaunitz,  seeming  to  hear  nothing  else,  held  the  watch  up  to  Ifis  ear  and 
counted  its  strokes.*  The  Empress,  who  was  accustomed  to  visit  the 
the  least  manifestation  of  such  inattention  on  the  part  of  her  councilors 
with  open  censure,  the  Empress,  so  observant  of  form,  and  so  cxactinir 

*V^d•  Kctrniiwn-,  Austrian  TlutRrrh,  1?  rol.,  V^V^  VX. 


S  JOI^&f  J1  THE  StCO.N*. 

of  its  observance  ia  others,  seemed  singularly  indulgent  to-day  ;  for 
while  Kaunitz  was  listenir.g  to  the  music  of  his  svatch,  his  imperial  mis- 
tieps  li'ukt'J  on  wiih  half  a  smile.  At  last  when  the  fifth  orator  had 
spoken,  and  it  became  thf  turn  of  Kaunitz  to  vote,  Maria  Theresa  turned' 
her  flashing  eyes  upon  him,  with  a  glance  of  anxious  and  appealing  ex- 
pi.ctatii'n. 

As  her  look  met  his,  how  had  all  coldness  and  unconcern  vanished 
from  his  flice  !  How  glowed  his  eyes  with  the  lustre  of  great  and  world- 
swayini'^  thoughts,  as  rising  from  his  chair,  he  returned  the  gaze  of  his 
huvereign  with  one  that  seemed  almost  to  crave  forbearance. 

But  Kaunitz  had  almost  preternatural  control  over  his  emotions,  and 
he  ri-covered  himself  at  once. 

"  I  Ccinnot  vote  for  a  renewal  of  our  worn-out  alliance  with  the  Mari- 
time Powers,"  said  he,  in  a  clear  and  determined  voice.  As  he  uttered 
these  words,  looks  of  astonishment  and  disapprobation  were  visible  upon 
the  faces  of  his  colleagues.  The  Lord  Chancellor  contented  himself  with 
a  contemptous  shrug,  and  a  supercilious  smile.  Kaunitz  perceived  it,  and 
met  boih  shrug  and  smile  with  undisturbed  composure,  while  calmly 
and  slowly  he  repealed  his  offending  words.  For  a  monient  he  paused, 
as  if  to  give  time  to  his  hearers  to  test  the  flavor  of  his  new  and  start- 
ling language.     Then  tirm  and  collected  he  went  on : 

'■  Our  alliance  wiih  England  and  Holland  has  long  been  a  yoke  and  a 
humiliation  to  Austria.  If  in  its  earlier  days,  this  "alliance  ever  afforded 
us  protection,  dearly  have  we  paid  for  that  protection,  and  we  have  been 
forced  to  buy  it  with  fearful  sacrifices  to  our  national  pride.  Not  for  one 
moment  have  these  two  powers  allowed  us  to  forget  that  we  have  been 
dependent  upon  their  bounty  for  money  and  defence.  Jealous  of  the 
growing  power  and  affluence  of  Austria,  before  whose  youthful  and  vigor- 
ttus  career,  lies  the  glory  of  future  greatness — jealous  of  our  increasing 
wealth,  jealous  of  the  splendor  of  Maria  Theresa's  reign  ;  these  powers, 
whose  faded  laurels  are  buried  in^the^rave  of  the  past,  have  compassed 
sea  and  land  to  stop  the  flow  of  our  prosperity,  and  sting  the  pride  of 
our  nationality.  With  their  tyrannical  commercial  edicts,  they  have 
dealt  injury  to  friends  as  well  as  foes.  The  closing  of  the  Scheldt  and 
Rhine,  the  Barrier  treaty,  and  all  the  other  restrictions  upon  trade  de- 
vised by  those  crafty  English  to  damage  the  traflfic  of  other  nations,  all 
ihesc  compacts  have  been  made  as  binding  upon  Austria  as  upon  every 
other  European  power.  Unmindful  of  their  alliance  with  us,  the  mari- 
time powers  have  closed  their  ports  against  our  ships;  and  while  affect- 
ing to  watch  the  Netherlands  in  our  behalf,  they  have  been  nothing  bet- 
ter than  spies,  seeking  to  discover  whether  our  flag  transcended  in  the 
least  the  limits  of  our  own  blockaded, frontiers  ;  and  whether  to  any  but 
to  themselves,  accrued  the  profits  of  trade  with  the  Baltic  and  North 
Seas.  Vraimenl,  such  friendship  lies  heavily  upon  us,  and  its  weight 
feels  almost  like  that  of  enmity.  Not  long  ago,  at  Aix-laChapelle,  I  had 
to  remind  the  English  ambassador  that  his  unknightly  and  arrogant 
bearing  towards  Austria  was  unseemly  both  to  the  sex  and  majesty  of 


MARIA  TftfeRJiSA.  y 

Austria's  Bmpress,  And  our  aug'jst  sovereign  herself,  not  long  slv.ci^, 
saw  fit  to  reprove  the  insolence  of  this  same  British  envoy,  who  ii 
her  very  presence  spoko  of  the  Netherlands  as  thougli  they  had  bec.i  ;i, 
boon  to  Austria  from  England's  clemency.  Incenscdrt  the  tone  of  llii,. 
representative  of  our  friends,  the  Empress  exclaimed,  'Am  I  not  ruler 
iu  the  Netherlands  as  well  as  in  Vienna?  Do  I  hold  my  ritrht  of  em- 
pire from  Engldnd  and  Holland.'  "* 

"  Yes,"  interrupted  Maria  Theresa  impetuously,  "yes,  I  spoke  thus. 
The  arrogance  of  these  royal  traders  has  provoked  mo  beyond  all  bear- 
ing. 1  will  no  longer  permit  them  to  insinuateofmyownimpcfi.il 
rights,  that  1  hold  them  as  favors  from  the  hand  of  any  earthly  power. 
It  chufes  the  pride  of  an  Empres^s-Queen  to  be  called  a  friend  and  treated 
fts  a  vassal ;  and  I  intend  that  these  proud  allies  shall  feel  that  I  resent 
their  affronts." 

It  was  wonderful  to  sec  the  effect  of  these  impassioned  words  upon 
the  auditors  of  the  Empress.  They  quaked,  as  they  thought  how  tliey 
had  voted,  and  their  awe-stricken  faces  were  pallid  with  fright.  Uhle- 
feld  and  Bartenstein  exchanged  glances  of  amazement  and  dismay;  while 
the  other  nobles,  like  adroit  courtiers,  fixed  their  looks,  with  awukeuin.a- 
admiration,  upon  Kaunitz,  in  whom  their  experienced  eyes  were  just  dis^ 
covering  the  rising  luminary  of  a  new  political  firmament. 

He,  meanwhile,  haii  inclined  his  head  and  smiled,  when  the  Empress 
had  interrupted  him.  She  ceased,  and  after  a  short  pause,  Kaunitz  re- 
sumed, with  unaltered  equanimity  :  "  Your  Majesty  has  been  graciously 
pleased  to  testify,  in  your  own  sovereign  person,  to  the  tyranny  of  our 
two  Northern  Allies.  It  remains,  therefore,  to  speak  of  Sardinia  alone; 
Sardinia  who  held  Lomhardy  in  check.  No  sooner  had  Victor  Amadeus 
put  his  royal  signature  to  the  treaty  made  by  him  with  Austria,  than  lia 
turned,  to  his  confidantes  and  said — loud  enough  for  us  to  hear  him  in 
Vienna:  'Lombardy  is  mine.  I  will  take  it,  but  I  shall  eat  it  up,  leaf 
by  leaf,  like  an  artichoke.'  And  methinks  his  majesty  of  Sardinia  has 
proved  himself  to  be  a  good  trencherman.  He  has  already  swallowed 
several  leaves  of  his  artichokes,  iu  that  he  is  master  of  several  of  the 
fairest  provinces  of  Lombardy.  It  is  true  that  this  royal  gourmand  has 
laid  aside  his  crown ;  and  that  in  his  place  reigns  Victor  Emanuel,  of 
whom  Lord  Chesterfield,  in  a  burst  of  enthusiasm,  has  said,  *  That  he 
never  did  and  never  will  commit  an  act  of  injustice.'  Concede  xXmt 
Victor  Emmanuel  is  the  soul  of  honor,  still,"  added  Kaunitz  with  a  shake 
of  the  head,  and  an  incredulous  smile,  "still — the  Italian  princes  are 
abozninable  geographers,  and  they  are  inordinately  fond  of  artichokes. f  , 
Now  thefr  fondness  for  this  vegetable  is  as  dangerous  to  Austria,  as  the 
too-loving  grasp  of  her  Northern  allies;  who  with  their  friendly  hands 
not  only  close  their  ports  against  us,  but  lay  the  weight  of  their  favors  so 
heavily  upon  our  head.s  as  to  fohce  us  down  upon  our  knees  before  them. 
What  have  we  from  England  and   Holland  but  their  subsidies?     And 

*  Coxe :  Ulstory  of  the  house  of  Austria,  vol.  6,  p.  CI. 

+  KttunltE'  9iirn  ^ords.    Konnayr,  Aii»triau  Plutarcb,  llfh  yeJ. 


10  •'  0O*>EPH  THE  dKCOJtD. 

Austria  can  now  atford  to  relinquish  them — Austria  is  rich,  powerful, 
prosperous  enough  to  be" allowed  to  profler  her  friendship  where  it  will 
be  honorably  returned.  Austria  then  must  be  freed  from  her  oppressive 
alliance  with  the  Maratime  Powers.  She  has  youth  nnvl  vitality  enough 
to  shako  offthis  bondage,  and  strike  for  the  new  path  that  shall  lead  her 
to  greatness  and  glory.  There  is  a  moral  and  intangible  greatness  of 
whose  existence  these  trading  Englishmen  have  no  conception,  but  which 
the  refined  and  elevated  people  of  Franccf  are  fully  competent  to  appre- 
ciate. France  extends  to  us  her  hand,  and  oflers  us  alliance  on  terms  of 
equality.  Co-operating  with  France  wo- shall  defy  the  enmity  of  all 
Europe.  With  our  two-edged  sword  we  shall  turn  the  scales  of  future 
European  strife,  and  make  peace  or  war  for  other  nations.  France  too, 
is  our  natural  ally,  for  she  is  our  neighbor.  And  she  is  more  than  this, 
for  she  is  our  ally  by  the  sacred  unity  of  one  Faith.  The  Holy  Father 
at  Rome,  who  blesses  the  arms  of  Austria,  will  no  longer  look  sorrow- 
fully upon  Austria's  league  with  heresy.  Wh£n  apostolic  France  and 
we  are  one,  the  blessings  of  the  Church  will  descend  upon  our  alliance. 
Iveligion  therefore,  as  well  a«  honest  statesmanship,  call  for  the  treaty 
^vith  France." 

"And  I,"  cried  Maria  Theresa,  rising  quickly  from  her  seat,  her  ejes 
glowing  with  enlhuasiastic  lire,  "I  vote  joyfully  with  Count  Kaunitz..  I 
tx)0,  vote  for  alliance  with  France.  The  Count  has  spoken  as  it  stirs  my 
heart  to  hear  an  Austrian  speak.  He  loves  his  Fatherland,  and  in  his 
devotion,  he  casts  far  from  him  all  thought  of  worldly  profit  or  advance- 
ment. I  tender  him  my  warmest  thanks,  and  I  will  take  his  words  to 
heart." 

Overcome  with  the  excitement  of  the  moment,  the  Empress  reached 
her  hand  to  Kaunitz,  who  eagerly  seized,  and  pressed  it  to  his  lips. 

Count  Uhlefeld  watched  this  extraordinary  scene  wFth  astonishments 
and  consternation.  Ba'rtenstein,  so  long  the  favorite  minister  of  Maria 
Theresa,  was  deadly  pale,  and  his  ^ips  were  compressed  as  though  he 
were  trying  to  suppress  a  burst  of  rage.  Harrach,  Colloredo,  and 
Khevenhiiller  hung  their  heads,  while  they  turned  over  in  their  little 
minds  how  best  to  curry  fivor  with  the  new  minister. 

The  Empress  saw  notliing  of  the  dismayeji  faces  around  her.  Her 
soul  was  fdled  with  high  emotions,  and  her  countenance  beamed  glorious- 
ly with  the  fervor  of  her  boundless  patriotism.  i:' 

"Everything  for  Austria.  My  heart,  my  soul,  my  life,  all  arc  for 
my  Fatherland,"  said  Llaria  Theresa,  with  her  beautiful  eyes  raised  to 
Heaven.  "And  now  my  lords,"  added  she,  after  a  pause,  "  I  must  retire 
to  beg  light  and  counsel  from  t'lc  Almighty.  1  have  learned  your  dif- 
ferent views  on  the  great  question  of  this  day  ;  and  when  Heaven  shall 
have  taught  me  what  to  do,  1  \y\\\  decide." 

She  waved  her  hand  in  parting  salutation,  and  with  her  loftiest  impe- 
rial bearing,  left  the  room. 

Until  the  doors  were  closed,  the  Lords  of  the  Council  remained  stand; 
)ng  with  inclined  heads.    Then  they  looked  from  one  to  another  wilH 


MARI^  THERESA.  H 

faces  of  wonder  and  inquiry,  Kaiinitz  alone  looked  unembarrassed  ;  and 
gathering  up  liis  papers  with  as  much  unconcern  as  if  nothing  had  hap- 
pened, he  slightly  bent  his  head  and  left  the  room. 

Never  before  had  any  member  of  the  Aulic  Council  dared  to  leave 
that  room  until  the  Lord  Chancellor  had  given  the  signal  of  departure  ! 
It  was  a  case  of  unparalled  violation  of  Court  etiquette.  Count  Uhlefeld 
was  aghast,  and  Bartenstein  seemed  crushed.  Without  exchanging  a 
word,  the  two  friends  rose  also,  and  with  eves  cast  down,  and  faces  pale 
with  the  anguish  of  that  hour,  together  they  left  the  council-chamber, 
towards  which  not  long  before  they  had  repaired  with  hearts  and  bear- 
ing so  triumphant. 

Colloredo  and  Ilarrach  followed  silently  to  the  anto-room,  and  bowed 
deferentially  us  their  late  masters  passed  through. 

But  no  sooner  had  the  door  closed,  than  J,ho  two  courtiers  exchanged 
malicious  smiles. 

"Fallen  favorites,"  laughed  Harrach.  "Quenched  lights,  that  yester- 
day shone  like  suns,  and  to-day  are  burnt  to  ashes.  There  is  to  bo  a 
soiree  tonight  at  Bartenstein's.  For  the  first  time  in  eleven  years  I 
shall  stay  away  from  Bartenstein's  soirees.''     *  A'^  ' 

"And  I,"  replied  Colloredo,  laughing,  "had  invited  Uhlefeld  for  to- 
morrow. But  as  the  entertainment  was  all  in  his  honor,  I  shall  be  taken 
with  a  sudden  indisposition,  and  countermand  my  supper." 

"That  will  be  a  most  summary  proceeding,"  said  Harrach.  "I  see 
then  that  you  believe  the  sun  of  Uhlefeld  and  Bartenstein  has  set  forever." 

"I  am  convinced  of  it.     They  have  their  death-blow." 

"And  the  rising  sun'?     You  think  it  will  be  called  Kaunitzl" 

"  Will  be?  It  IS  called  Kaunitz,  so  take  my  advice.  Kaunitz,  I  know, 
is  not  a  man  to  be  bribed,  but  he  has  two  weaknesses — women  and  horses. 
You  are  for  the  present,  the  favorite  of  La  Fortina ;  and  yesterday  you 
won  from  Count  Esterhazy,  an  Arabian,  which  Kaunitz  says,  is  the  finest 
horse  in  Vienna.  If  I  were  you,  I  would  present  to  him  both  my  mis- 
tress and  my  horse.  Who  knows  but  what  these  courtesies  may  induce 
him  to  adopt  you  as  a  protege?" 


CHAPTER  ir. 

THK  LETTER. 


From  her  cabinet  council,  the  Empress  passed  at  once  to  her  private 
apartments.  When  business  was  over  for  the  day,  she  loved  to  cast  all 
oaros  of  sovercigBty  behind,  and   become  Qk  woman— ^chatting  gayly 


12  J<WEPH  THE  SKCO:<D. 

•with  her  ladic^  of  honor  over  the  on  ditit  of  the  court  and  city.  Darin:; 
the  hours  devoted  to  her  toilet,  Maria  Thoresa  gave  herself  unreservedly 
up  to  irresponsible  enjoymorit.  But  she  was  so  impetuous,  that  her  la- 
dies of  honor  were  never  quite  secure  that'  some  little  annoyaiice  would 
not  ruffle  the  serenity  of  her  temper.  The  young  girl  whose  duty  it  was 
to  read  aloud  to  the  Empress  and  dress  her  hair,  used  to  declare  that  she 
would  sooner  wade  througn  three  hours  worth  of  Latin  despatches  from 
Hungary,  than  spend  one  half  hour  as  imperial  hair-dresser. 

But  to-diiy,  as  she  entered  her  dressing-room,  the  eyes  of  the  Empress 
beamed  with  pleasure,  and  her  mouth  was  wreathed  with  sunny  smiles. 
The  little  hair-dresser  was  delighted,  and  with  responsive  smile  took  her 
place,  and  prepared  for  her  important  duties.  Maria  Theresa  glided  in- 
to the  chair,  and  with  her  own  hands  began  to  unfosten  the  golden  net 
that  confined  her  hair.  She  then  leaned  forvr-ard,  and  with  a  pleased  ex- 
pression, contemplated  the  beautiful  face  that  looked  out  fi'oni  the  silver- 
framed  Venetian  glass  before  which  she  sat. 

"Make  me  very  charming  to-day,  Charlotte,"*  said  she. 

"Your  majesty  needs  no  help  from  me  to  look  charming,"  said  the 
gen^  voice  of  the  little  tire-woman.  "  No  hair-dresser  had  lent  you 
her  aid  on  that  day  when  your  Magyar  Nobles  swore  to  die  for  you,  and 
yet  the  world  says  that  never  were  eyes  of  loyal  subjects  dazzled  by 
such  beauty  and  such  grace." 

"A-h  yea,  child,  but  that  was  thirteen  years  ago.  Thirteen  years ! 
How  many  cares  have  lain  upon  my  heart  since  that  day.  If  my  face  is 
"Wrinkled,  and  my  hair  grown  gray,  I  may  thank  that  hateful  King  of 
J*russia,  for  he  is  the  cause  of  it  all." 

"  If  he  has  no  greater  sins  to  repent  of  than  those  two,"  replied  Char- 
lotte, with  an  admiring  smile,  "he  may  sleep  soundly.  Your  majesty's 
forehead  is  unruffled  by  a  wrinkle,  and  your  hair  is  as  glossy  and  as 
brown  as  ever  it  was." 

Brighter  still  was  the  smile  of  the  Empress  as  she  turned  quickly 
around  and  exclaimed,  "Then  you  think  that  I  have  still  beauty  enough 
to  please  the  Emperor?  If  you  do,  make  good  use  of  it  to-day,  for  I 
have  something  of  importance  to  ask  of  him,  and  I  long  to  find  favor  in 
his  eyes.     To  work  then — Charlotte,  and  be  quick,  for " 

At  that  moment,  the  silken  hangings  before  the  door  of  the  dressing- 
room  were  drawn  hastily  aside,  and  the  Countess  Fuchs  stepped  forward. 

"Ah  Countess,"  continued  the  Empress,  "you  are  just  in  time  for  a 
cabinet  toilet  council." 

But  the  lady  of  honor  showed  no  disposition  to  respond  to  the  gay 
greeting  of  her  sovereign.  With  stiffest  Spanish  ceremonial,  she  curtsied 
deeply.  "  Pardon  me,  your  majesty,  if  I  interrupt  you,"  said  she  solemn- 
ly, "  but  I  have  something  to  communicate  to  yourself  alone." 

Oh,  Countess!"  exclaimed  Maria  Theresa,  anxiously,  "you  look  as  if 
you  bore  me  evil  tidings.  But  speak  out — Charlotte  knows  as  many 
State  secrets  as  you  do  ;  you  need  not  be  reserved  before  her." 

fOharlott*  V»n  HieronymuB  was  the  mother  of  CwoUnc  Pichler. 


MARIA  THERESA.  J ."{ 

"  Pardon  me,"  again  said  the  ceremonious  lady,  with  another  deep 
curtsey,  "I  bring  no  news  of  State,  I  must  speak  with  yonr  majesty  alone."* 

The  eyes  of  the  Empress  dilated  with  fear.  "  No  State  secret,"  n)ur- 
mured  she,  "oh  what  can  it  be  then!  Go  Charlotte — go  child,  and  re- 
main until  I  recall  you." 

The  door  closed  behind  the  tir€-woman,  and  the  Empress  cried  out, 
"  Now  we  are  alone — be  quick  and  speak  out  what  you  have  to  say. 
You  have  come  to  give  me  pain — 1  feel  it — I  feel  it!" 

"  Your  majesty  ordered  me  sometime  since,"  began  the  Countess  in 
her  low  unsympathising  tones,  "  to  watch  the  imperial  household  ;  so 
that  nothing  might  transpire  within  it  that  came  not  to  the  knowledge 
of  your  majesty.  1  have  lately  watched  the  movements  of  the  Emperor's 
valet." 

*'Ah,"  cried  the  Empress,  clasping  her  hands  convulsively  together, 
'*you  watched  him,  and- "  * 

"  Yes,  your  majesty,  I  watched  him,  and  I  was  informed  this  morning 
that  he  had  left  the  Emperor's  apartments  with  a  sealed  note  in  his  hands, 
and  had  gone  into  the  city." 

•'  No  more — just  yet,"  said  the  Empress  with  trembling  lip.  "  Give 
me  air ;  I  cannot  breathe."  With  wild  emotion  she  tore  open  her  vel- 
vet boddice,  and  heaving  a  deep  sigh,  she  signed  to  the  Countess  to  go  on. 

"  My  spy  awaited  Gaspardi's  return,  and  stopped  him.  He  was  for- 
bidden, in  the  name  of  your  majesty,  to  go  further." 

"  Go  on." 

"  Ho  was  brought  to  me,  your  majesty,  and  now  awaits  your  orders." 

"So  tha.t  if  there  is  an  answer  to  the  note,  he  has  it,"  said  Maria 
Theresa,  sharply.     The  Countess  bowed. 

"  Where  is  he  V 

"  In  the  anti-chamber,  your  majesty." 

The  Empress  bounded  from  her  seat,  and  walked  across  the  room. 
Her  face  was  flushed  with  anger,  and  she  trembled  in  every  limb.  She 
seemed  undecided  what  to  do ;  but  at  last  she  stopped  suddenly  and 
■blushing  deeply,  without  looking  at  the  Countess  she  said  in  a  low  voice, 
"Bring  him  hither." 

The  Countess  disappeared  and  returned,  followed  by  Gaspardi. 

Maria  Theresa  strode  impetuously  forward,  and  bent  her  threatening 
eyes  upon  the  valet.  But  the  shrewd  Italian  knew  better  than  to  meet 
the  lightening  glances  of  an  angry  Empress.  With  downcast  looks,  and 
reverential  obeisance,  he  awaited  her  commands. 

"  Look  at  me,  Gaspardi,"  said  she,  in  tones  that  sounded  in  the  valet's 
ears  like  distant  thundef.     "Answer  my  questions,  sir." 

Gaspardi  raided  his  eyes.  • 

"  To  whom  was  the  note  addressed  that  was  given  you  by  the  Em- 
peror this  morning  ?" 

"  Your  majesty,  I  did  not  presume  t6  look  at  it,"  replied  Gaspardi, 
quietly.  "  His  imperial  majesty  was  pleased  to  tell  me  where  to  tako 
it,  and  that  sufficed  mc." 


J 4  JOSEPH  THE  SECOND. 

"And  whither  did  you  take  it?" 

•'  Imperial  majesty,  I  have  forgotten  the  house." 

"  What  street  then  ?"  ^  • 

"  Pardon  me,  imperial  majesty  ;  these  dreadful  German  names  are 
too  hard  for  my  Italian  tongue.  As  soon  as  I  had  obeyed  his  majesty's 
commands,  I  forgot  the  name  of  the  street." 

"  So  that  you  are  resolved  not  to  tell  me  where  you  went  with  the 
Emperor's  note  ?" 

"  Indeed,  imperial  majesty,  I  have  totally  forgotten." 

The  Empress  looked  as  if  she  longed  to  annihilate  this  menial,  who 
defied  her  so  successfully. 

"  I  see,"  exclaimed  she,  "  that  you  are  crafty  and  deceitful,  but  you 
shall  not  escape  me.  I  command  you,  as  your  sovereign,  to  give  up  the 
note  you  bear  about  you  for  the  Emperor.  I,  myself,  will  deliver  it  to 
his  majesty." 

Gaspardi  gave  a  start,  and  unconsciously  his  hand  sought  the  place 
where  the  note  was  concealed.  He  turned  very  pale  and  stammered  : 
"  Imperial  majesty,  I  have  no  letter  for  the  Emperor." 

"  You  have  it  there !"  thundered  the  infuriated  Empress,  as  with  threat- 
ening hand  she  pointed  to  the  valet's  breast.  "  Deliver  it  at  once,  or  I 
will  call  my  lackeys  to  search  you." 

'i  Your  majesty  forces  me  then  to  betray  my  Lord  and  Emperor  ?" 
asked  Gaspardi,  trembling. 

"  You  serve  him  more  faithfully  by  relinquishing  the  letter  than  by 
retaining  it,"  returned  Maria  Theresa,  hastily.  "  Once  more  I  command 
you  to  give  it  up." 

Gaspardi  heaved  a  sigh  of  anguish,  and  looked  imploringly  at  the 
Empress.  But  in  the  trembling  lips,  the  flashing  eyes,  the  flushed  cheeks 
that  met  his  entreating  glance,  he  saw  no  symptoms  of  relenting,  and  he 
dared  the  strife  no  longer.  His  hand  shook  as  he  drew  forth  the  letter 
and  held  it  towards  the  Empress. 

She  uttered  a  cry,  and  with  the  fury  of  a  lioness  she  snatched  the  pa- 
per and  crushed  it  in  her  hand. 

"  Your  majesty,"  whispered  the  Countess,  "  dismiss  the  valet  before 
he  learns  too  much.     He  might " 

"  Woe  to  him  if  he  breathes  a  word  to  one  human  being,"  cried  the 
Empress,  with  menacing  gesture.  "  Woe  to  him  if  he  dares  to  breathe 
one  word  to  his  master  !" 

"  Heaven  forbid  that  I  should  betray  the  secrets  of  my  sovereign !" 
cried  the  aff"righted  Gaspardi.  "  But,  imperial  majesty,  what  am  I  to 
say  to  my  lord,  the  Emperor  ?" 

"  You  will  tell  your  lord  that  you  brought  no  answer,  and  it  will  not 
be  the  first  lie  with  which  you  befool  his  imperial  ears,"  replied  Maria 
Theresa,  contemptously,  while  she  waved  her  hand  as  a  signal  of  dis- 
missal. The  unhappy  Mercury  retired,  and  as  he  disappeared,  the  pent 
up  anguish  of  the  Empress  burst  forth. 

'^Ah  Margftrctto  T'  oricd  she,  in  accents  of  wildest  prie^  "whal  au  un- 


MARIA  THERESA,  15 

fortunate  woman  I  am.  In  all  my  life  I  have  loved  but  one  man!  My 
heart,  iny  soul,  my  every  thought  arc  his,  and  he  robs  me,  the  mother 
of  his  children,  ot  his  love,  and  bestows  it  upon  another !" 

"  Perhaps  the  inconstancy  is  but  momentary,"  replied  the  Countess, 
%vho  burned  to  know  the  contents  of  the  letter.  "Perhaps  there  is  no 
inconstancy  at  all.  This  may  be  nothing  but  an  effort  on  the  part  of 
some  frivolous  coquette  to  draw  our  handsome  Emperor  within  the  net 
of  her  guilty  attractions.     The  note  would  show— — " 

The  Empress  scarcely  heeded  the  ■words  of  her  confidant.  She  had 
opened  her  hand,  and  with  dark  stormy  hjoks,  she  gazed  upon  the  crump- 
led paper  that  held  her  husband's  secret. 

*'  Oh  !"  murmured  she,  plaintively.  "  Oh,  it  seems  to  me  that  a  thou- 
sand daggers  have  sprung  from  this  little  paper,  to  make  my  heart's 
blood  flow.  Who  is  the  fool-hardy  woman  that  would  entice  m"y  hus- 
band from  his  loyalty  to  me"?  Woe!  woe  to  her  when  I  shall  have 
learned  her  name!  And  I  will  learn  it!"  cried  the  unhappy  wife.  " I 
myself  will  take  this  letter  to  the  Emperor,  and  he  shall  6pen  it  in  my 
presence.  Oh  I  Avill  have  justice  !  Adultery  is  a  ftarful  crime,  and  fear- 
ful shall  be  its  punishment  in  ray  realms.  The  name  ! .  The  name  ! 
Oh  that  I  knew  the  name  of  the  execrable  woman  that  has  dared  to  lift 
her  treasonable  eyes  towards  my  husband !" 

"  Nothing  is  easier  than  to  learn  it,  your  majesty,"  whispered  the 
Countess,  squat  like  a  toad,  close  to  the  ear  of  Eve !  "  The  letter  will 
reveal  it." 

The  Empress  frowned.    Oh  for  Ithurial  then  ! 

"  Dost  mean  that  I  shall  open  a  letter  which  was  nerer  intended  to  be 
read  by  me  ?" 

The  Countess  pointed  to  the  paper.  "  Your  majesty  has  already  broken 
the  seal.  You  crushed  it  iinintentionally.  There  remains  but  to  unfold 
the  paper,  and  everything  is  explained.  I  will  wager  that  it  comes  from 
the  beautiful  dancer  Riccardo,  whom  the  Emperor  admired  so  much 
last  night  in  the  ballet,  and  w;hom  he  declared  to  be  the  most  bewitching 
creature  he  had  ever  seen." 

The  eyes  of  the  Empress  dropped  burning  tears,  and  covering  her  face 
with  her  hands,  she  sobbed  aloud.  Then  she  seemed  ashamed  of  her 
emotion,  and  dashing  away  her  tears,  she  raised  her  beautiful  head  again. 

"  It  is  contemptible  so  to  mourn  for  one  who  is  faithless,"  said  she. 
"It  is  for  me  to  judge  and  to  punish,  and  that  will  I !  It  is  my  4uty  aa 
ruler  of  Austria  to  bring  all  -crime  to  light.  I  will  soon  learn  who  it  is 
that  dares  to  exchange  letters  with  the  husband  of  the  reigning  Empress. 
And  after  all,  the  speediest,  the  simplest  way  to  do  this,  lies  before  me. 
I  must  open  the  letter  for  justice  sake  ;  but  I  swear  that  I  will  not  read 
one  word  contained  within  its  pages.  I  wilt  see  the  name  of  the  writer 
alone ;  and  then  I  can  be  sure  that  curiosity  and  personal  interest  have 
not  prompted  me." 

And  so  Maria  Theresa  silenced  her  scruples,  and  persuaded  herself 
that  she  was  compelled  to  do  aa  the  tempter  had  suggested.    She  tore 


16  JOSEPH  THE  SECOND. 

open  the  note ;  but  true  to  her  self-imposed  vow,  she  paused  on  the 
threshold  of  dishonor,  and  read  nothing  but  the  writer's  name. 

"  Riccardo!''  cried  she  wildly.  "You  were  right,  Margaretta,  an  in- 
trigue with  the  Riccardo.  The  Emperor  has  written  to  her,  the  Emperor, 
my  husband !" 

She  folded  the  fatal  letter,  and  oh !  how  her  white  hands  trembled  as 
she  laid  it  upon  the  table  ;  and  how  deadly  pale  were  the  cheeks  that 
had  flushed  with  anger  when  Gaspardi  had  been  by  ! 

Tiie  Countess  was  not  deceived  by  this  phasis  of  the  Empress'  grief. 
She  knew  that  the  storm  would  burst,  and  she  thought  it  better  to  divide 
its  wrath.     She  stepped  lightly  out  to  call  the  confessor  of  her  victim, 

Maria  Theresa  was  unconscious  of  being  alone.  She  stood  before  the 
table  staring  at  the  letter.-  Gradually  her  paleness  vanished,  and  the 
hue  of  anger  once  more  deepened  on  her  cheeks.  Her  eyes  that  had  jifst 
been  drooping  with  tears,  flamed  again  with  indignation  ;  and  her  ex- 
panded nostrils,  her, bewitching  mouth,  and  her  heaving  chest,  betrayed 
the  fury  of  the  storm  that  was  beginning  once  more  to  rage  within. 

"  Oh  I  will  trample  her  under  foot,"  muttered  she  between  her  teeth, 
while  she  raised  her  hand  as  if  she  would  fain  have  dealt  to  her  rival  a 
death-stroke.  "I  will  prove  to  the  Court,  to  the  Empire — to  the  world, 
how  Maria  Theresa  hates  vice,  and  how  she  punishes  crime,  without 
respect  of  persons.  Both  criminals  shall  feel  the  lash  of  justice.  If  my 
woman's  heart  break,  the  Empress  shall  do  her  duty.  It  shall  not  be 
said  that  lust  holds  its  revels  in  Vienna,  as  at  the  obscene  Courts  of  Ver- 
sailles and  St.  Petersburg.  No!  Nor  shall  the  libertines  of  Vienna 
point  to  the  Austrian  Emperor  as  their  model,  nor  shall  their  weeping 
wives  be  taunted  with  reports  of  the  indulgence  of  the  Austrian  Empress. 
Morality  and.  decorum  shall  prevail  in  Vienna.  The  fire  of  my  royal 
vengeance  shall  consume  that  bold  harlot,  and  then then  for  the  Em- 
peror '." 

"  Your  majesty  will  never  consent  to  bring  disgrace  upon  the  father 
of  your  imperial  children,"  said  a  gentle  voice  close  by,  and  turning  at 
the  sound,  the  Empress  beheld  her  confessor. 

She  advanced  hastily  towards  father  Porhammer.  "  How !"  exclaimed 
she  angrily,  "how,  you  venture  to  plead  for  the  Emperor?  You  come 
hither  to  stay  the  hand  of  justice?" 

"  I  do  indeed,"  replied  the  tather,  "  for  her  hand,  to-day  at  least,  if  up- 
lifted against  the  Emperor,  must  recoil  upon  the  Empress.  The  honor 
of  my  august  sovereigns  cannot  be  divided.  Your  majesty  must  throw 
the  shield  of  your  love  over  the  fault  of  your  imperial  husband." 

"  Oh  I  cannot !  I  cannot  suffer  this  mortal  blow  in  silence,"  sobbed 
the  Empress. 

"  Nay,"  said  the  father  smiling,  "  the  wife  may  be  severe,  though  the 
Empress  be  clement." 

"  But  she,  father — must  she  also  be  pardoned?  She  who  has  enticed 
my  husband  from  his  conjugal  faith?" 

"As  for  the  Riccardo,"  replied  father  Porhammer,  "  I  have  heard  that 


MARIA  THERESA.  IJ 

she  is  a  sinAil  woman,  whose  beauty  has  le(^  many  men  astray;  If  yDuv 
majesty  deem  her  dange|ous,  she  can  be  made  to  leave  Vienna  ;  but  kt 
retribution  go  no  further." 

"  Well,  be  it  so,"  sighed  the  Empress,  whose  heart  was  alre»<5y  sotr!'- 
ening.  "You  are  right,  reverend  father,  bu&  La  Kiccardo  ebaliJeavo 
Vienna  forever." 

So  saying  she  hastened  to  her  escriioire,  and  wrote  and  signed  the  onicj? 
for  the  banishment  of  the  danseune. 

"There,"  cried  she,  handing  the  order  to  the  priest,  "  I  pray  \tJ&> 
dear  father,  to  remit  this  to  Count  Barten.stein,  and  let  him  see  that  she. 
goes  hence  this  very  day.  And  v/hen  I  have  laid  this  evil  spirit,  per- 
chance I  shall  find  peace  once  more.  But  no !  no !"  continued  she^ 
her  eyes  filling  with  tears,  "  when  she  has  gone,  some  other  enchant- 
tress  will  come  in  her  place  to  charm  my  husbf^nd's  love  away.  <^ 
father !  if  chastity  is  not  in  the  heart,  sin  will  always  find  entranoo 
there!" 

"  Yes,  your  majesty  ;  and  therefore  should  the  portals  of  the  heart  be 
ever  guarded  against  the  enemy.  As  watchmen  are  appointed  to  guard 
the  property,  so  are  the  servants  of  God  sent  on  earth  to  extend  the  pro- 
tection of  Heaven  to  the  hearts  of  your  people." 

"And  why  may  I  not  aid  them  in  their  holy  labors  1"  exclaimed  thA 
Empress,  glowing  suddenly  with  a  new  interest.  "Why  jnay  not  I  ajN 
point  a  committee  of  good  and  wise  men  to  watch  over  the  moralj?  cf 
my  subjects,  and  {p  warn  them  from  temptation,  ere  it  has  tinie  to  be- 
come sin?  Come  father,  you  must  aid  me  in  this  good  work.  Help 
me  to  be  the  eartlily,  as  the  Blessed  Virgin  is  the  heavenly  mother  of 
the  Austrian  people.  Sketch  me  some  plan  whereby  I  may  organise  my 
scheme.  I  feel  sure  that  your  suggestions  will  bo  dictated  by  that 
Heaven  to  which  you  have  devoted  your  whole  li/e." 

".May  the  spirit  of  counsel  and  the  spirit  of  wisdom  cnlightea 
myiunderstanding,"  said  the  father,  with  solemn  fervor,  "  that  I  may 
worthily  accomplish  the  mission  with  which  my  Empress  has  eotiust*;! 
me!" 

"  But,  your  majesty,"  whispered  the  Countess  Fuchs,  "  in  your  mag- 
nanimous projects  for  your  people,  you  are  losing  sight  of  yoursoif. 
The  Riccardo  has  not  yet  been  banished ;  and  the  Emperor  seeing  that 
no  answer  is  coming  to  his  note,  may  seek  an  interview.  Who  can  gu^ss 
the  consequences  of  a  meeting  ?" 

The  Empress  shivered  as  the  Countess  probed  the  wounds  herself  Itad 
made  in  that  poor,  jealous  heart. 

"True — true,"  returned  she  in  an  unsteady  voice.  " Go  father,  and 
begin  my  work  of  reform,  by  casting  out  that  wicked  woman  from  amoug 
the  unhappy  wives  of  Vienna.  I  myself  will  announce  her  departurw 
to  the  Emperor*.  And  now,  dear  friends,  leave  me:  You,  father,  to 
Count  Bartenstein.  Countess,  will  you  recall  Charlotte,  and  send  me 
my  tire-woman.  Let  the  princes- and  princesses  be  regally  attired  to- 
day.    I  will  meet  tho  Emperor  in  their  midst." 


18  JOSEPH  THE  SECOND. 

The  confessor  bowed  and  rctrred,  and  the  Countess  opening  the  door 
of  the  inner  dressing-room,  beckoned  to  Charlotte,  who  in  the  recess  of 
a  deep  bay  window,  sat  wearily  awaiting  the  summons  to  return. 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE  TOILET   OF   THE  EMPRESS. 

So  dark'  and  gloomy  was  the  face  of  the  Empress,  that  poor  Charlotte's 
heart  misgave  her,  as  with  a  suppressed  sigh  she  resumed  her  place,  and 
once  more  took  down  the  rich  masses  of  her  sovereign  lady's  hair. 
Maria  Theresa  looked  sternly  at  the  reflection  of  her  little  maid  of  honor's 
face  itt  the  glass.  She  saw  how  Charlotte's  hands  trembled,  arid  this  in- 
creased her  ill-humor.  Again  she  raised  her  eyes  to  her  own  image,  and 
she  saw  plainly  that  anger  was  unbecoming  to  her.  The  flush  on  her 
face  was  not  rosy,  but  purple ;  and  the  scowl  upon  her  brow  was  fast 
deepening  into  a  wrinkle.  Her  bosom  heaved  with  a. heavy,  heavy 
sigh.  > 

"Ah !"  thought  she,  "  if  I  am  ever  again  to  find  favor  in  his  eyes,  I 
must  always  smile;  for  smiles  are  the  last  glowing  tints  of  beauty's 
sunset.  A"nd  yet — how  can  I  smile  when  ray  heart  is  breaking  !  He 
said  that  the  Riccardo  was  the  loveliest  woman  he  had  ever  seen.  Alas  ! 
I  remember  the  day  when  he  knelt  at  my  feet,  and  spoke  thus  of  me. 
Qh  my  Franz !     Am  I  indeed  old  and  no  longer  loveable  !" 

In  her  anxiety  to  scrutinize  her  own  features,  the  Empress  bent  sud- 
denly  forward,  and  the  heavy  mass  of  puffs  and  braids  that  formed  the 
coiffiire  she  had  selected  for  the  day,  gave  way.  She  felt  the  sharp 
points  of  the  hair  pins  in  her  head,  and  miserable  and  nervous  as  she 
■was,  they  seemed  to  wound  her  cruelly.  Starting  from  her  chair,  she 
poured  forth  a  torrent  of  reproaches  upon  Charlotte's  head,  who  pale  and 
trembling  more  than  ever,  repaired  the  damage,  and  placed  among  the 
braids,  a  bouquet  of  white  roses.  These  white  roses  deepened  the  un- 
becoming redness  of  the  Empress'  face.  She  perceived  this  at  once,  and 
losing  ail  self-control,  she  tore  the  flowers  from  her  hair,  and  dashed 
them  on  the  floor. 

"  YoQ  are  all  leagued  against  me,"  cried  she  indignantly.  "  You  are 
trying  your  best  to  disfigure  me,  and  to  make  me  look  old, before  my 
time.  Who  ever  saw  such  a  ridiculous  structure  as  this  head-dress,  that 
makes  me  look  like  a  perambulating  castle  on  a  chess  board  !  Come  ! 
another  coiffure,  and  let  it  not  be  such  a  ridiculous  one  as  this  !" 

Charlotte  of  course  did  not  remind  her  mistress  that  thfe  coiffure  and 


MARIA  THERESA.  10 

roses  had  been  her  own  selection.  She  had  nothing  to  do  but  td  obey 
in  silence,  and  begin  her  work  again. 

At  last  the  painful  task  was  at  an  end.  The  Empress  looked  keen- 
ly at  herself  in  the  glass,  and  seeming  convinced  that  she  rfeally  looked 
well,  she  called  imperatively  for  her  tire-woman.  In  came  the  proces- 
sion, bearing  hooped-skirt,  rich-embroidered  train,  golden-flowered  petti- 
coat, and  boddice,  flashing  with  diamonds.  But  the  Empress,  usually 
so  afTable  at  her  toilet,  surveyed  both  maids  and  apparel  with  gloomy 
indilTerencc.  In  moody  silence  she  reached  out  her  feet,  while  her  slip- 
pers were  exchanged  for  high-henled  shoes.  Not  a  look  had  she  to  be- 
stow upon  the  magnificent  dress  which  enhanced  a  thousand  fold  her 
mature  beauty.  Without  a  word  she  dismissed  the  maids  of  honor,  all 
except  Charlotte,  whose  crowning  labor  it  was  to  give  the  last  touch  to 
the  imperial  head,  when  the  rest  of  the  toilet  had  been  declared  to  be 
complete. 

Again  Maria  Theresa  stood  before  that  high  Venetian  glass,  and  cer- 
tainly it  did  give  back  the  image  of  a  regal  beauty.  For  a  while  she 
examined  her  costume  from  head  to  foot ;  and  at  last— at  last !  her 
beautiful  blue  eyes  beamed  bright  with  satisfaction,  and  a  smile  rippled 
lightly  the  corners  of  her  mouth. 

"No,"  said  she  aloud.  "No,  it  is  not  so.  I  am  neither  old  nor  ugly. 
The  light  of  youth  has  not  yet  fled  from  my  brow.  My  beauty's  sun 
has  not  yet  set  forever.  My  Franz  will  love  me  still ;  and  however 
charming  younger  women  may  be,  he  will  remember  the  beloved  of  his 
boyhood,  and  we  will  yet  be  happy  in  reciprocal  affection,  come  what 
may  to  us  as  Emperor  -and  Empress.  I  do  not  believe  that  he  said  ho 
had  never  seen  so  lovely  a  Woman  as  Riccardo.  Poor,  dear  Franz !  He 
has  a  tedious  life  as  husband  of  the  ftigning  sovereign.  From  sheer 
ennui,  he  sometimes  wanders  from  his  wife's  heart,  but  oh!  he  must,  he 
must  return  to  me,  for  if  I  were  to  lose  him,  earthly  splendor  would  be 
valueless  to  me  forever!" 

Charlotte,  who  stood  behind  her  mistress  with  the  comb  in  her  hand, 
was  dismayed  at  all  that  she  had  heard  ;  and  the  plaintive  tones  of  this 
magnificent  Empress,  at  whose  feet  lay  a  world  of  might,  touched  her 
heart's  coi-e.  But  she  sickened  as  vshe  thought  that  her  presence  had  been 
ualiecded,  and  that  the  Empress  had  fancied  herself  alone,  while  the  se- 
crets of  her  heart  were  thus  struggling  into  words.  The  ample  train 
completely  screened  little  Charlotte  from  view,  and  a  deadly  paleness 
overspread  her  countenance  as  she  awaited  discovery. 

Suddci;i]y  the  Empress  turned,  and  putting  her  hand  tenderly  on  Char- 
lotte's head,  she  said,  in  a  voice  of  indiscribable  melancholy,  "  Be  warned, 
Charlotte,  and  if  you  marry,  never  marry  a  man  who  has  nothing  to  do. 
Men  will  grow  inconstant  from  sheer  ennui."* 

"I  never  expect  to  marry,  beloved  mistress,"  said  the  young  girl,  deep- 
ly touched  by  this  confidence.  "  I  wish  to  live  and  die  in  your  majesty's 
service." 

*>raria  Thcrcea's  words.    See  Caroliin.'  Ticjilcr:  Memoirs  of  my  Hfc. 


20  JOSEPH  THE  SECOND 

"Do  yoy'?  And  can  yoii  bear  for  a  life-time  with  my  impatience, 
dear  child  1"  asked  the  Empress,  kissing  the  little  devotee  on  the  fore- 
head. "  You  know  now,  my  little  Charlotte,  why  I  have  been  so  unkind 
to-day  ;  you  know  that  my  heart  was  bleeding  with  such  anguish,  that 
had  1  not  broken  out  in  anger,  I  would  have  stifled  with  agony.  You 
have  seen  into  the  depths  of  my  heart,  and  why  should  I  not  confide  in 
you,  who  knows  every  secret  of  my  State-council  ?  No  one  suspects 
what  misery  lies  under  the  regal  mantle.  And  I  care  not  to  exhibit  my- 
self to  the  world's  pity.  When  Maria  Theresa  weeps,  let  her  God  and 
those  who  love  her  be  the  witnesses  of  her  sorrow.  Go  now,  good  little 
Charlotte,  and  forget  everything  except  your  sovereign's  love  for  you. 
Tell  the  governess  of  the  arch-Duke  Ferdinand,  to  bring  him  hither. 
Let  the  other  imperial  children  await  me  in  my  reception-room  ;  and  tell 
the  page  in  the  ante-room  to  announce  to  his  majesty  that  I  request  the 
honor  of  a  visit  from  him." 

Charlotte,  once  more  happy,  left  the  room,  her  heai^t  filled  with  joy  for 
herself,  and  gentle  sorrow  for  her  sovereign. 

ileanwhilo  the  Empress  thought  over  the  coming  ipl^erview.  "  I  will 
try  to  recall  him  to  me  by  love,"  murmured  she,  softly.  "I  will  not 
reproach  him,  and  although  as  his  Empress  I  have  a  double  claim  upon 
his  loyalty,  I  will  not  appeal  to  anything  but  his  own  dear  heart;  and 
when  he  hears  how  he  has  made  his  poor  Theresa  suffer,  I  know " 

Plere  her  voice  failed  her,  and  tears  filled  her  eyes.  But  she  dashed 
them  quickly  away,  for  steps  approached,  and  the  governess  entered, 
with  the  infant  prince  in  her  arms. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

HUSBAND  AND  WISE. 

A  half  an  hour  later,  the  princes  and  princesses  of  Austria  were  all 
assembled  in  their  mother's  private  parlor.  They  were  a  beautiful 
group.  The  Empress  in  their  midst,  held  little  Ferdinand  in  her  arms. 
Close  peeping  through  the  folds  of  their  mother's  rich  dress,  were  three 
other  little  ones;  and  a  few  steps  further  were  the  arch-duchesses  Chris- 
tine and  Amelia.  Near  the  open  harpsichord  stood  the  graceful  form  of 
the  Empress'  eldest  child,  the  princess  Elizabeth,  who  now  and  then  ran 
her  fiilgers  lightly  over  the  instrument,  while  she  awaited  the  arrival  of 
her  fiither. 

In  the  pride  of  her  maternity  and  beauty  stood  the  Empress-Queen ; 
Irat  her  heart  throbbed  painfally,  though  she  smiled  upon  her  children. 


MARIA  THERESA,  21 

The  page  announced  the  coming  ot  ^:^he  Eraperor,  and  then  left  the 
room.  The  Empress  made  a  sign  to  her  eldest  daughter,  who  seated 
herself  before  the  harpsichord.  The  door  opened,  and  on  the  threshold 
appeared  the  tall,  elegant  form  of  the  Emperor  Francis. 

Elizabeth  begaja   a  brilliant  "  Welcome,"  and  all   the  young  voices 
joined  in  one  loud  chorus.     "  Long  live  our  Emperor,  our  sovereign,  and 
our. father  !"  sang  the  children  ;  but  clear  above  them  all,  were  heard  the 
sonorous  tones  of  the  mother,  exclaiming  in   the  fullness  of  her  love 
"Long  live  my  Emperor  and  my  husband!"     As  if  every  tender  chord 
of  Maria  Theresa's  heart  had  been   struck,  she  broke  forth  into  one  of 
those  passionate  songs  of  Metastasio  ;  while  Elizabeth,  catching  the  in- 
spiration, accompanied  her  mother  with  sweetest  melody.     The  Empress 
her  little  babe  in  her  arms,  was  wrapped  up  in  the  ecstacy  of  the  mo- 
ment— Never  had  she  looked  more  enchanting  than  she  did  as  she  ceased 
and  gave  one  look  of  love  to  her  admiring  husband. 

The  Emperor  for  one  moment  contemplated  the  lovely  group  before 
him,  and  then  full  of  emotion,  he  came  forward,  and  bending  over  his 
wife,  he  kissed  the  round  white  arm  that  held  the  baby,  and  whispered 
to  the  mother  a  few  words  of  rapture  at  her  surpassing  beauty, 

"But  tell  mo,  gracious  Empress,"  said  he  aloud,  "to  what  I  am  in- 
debted for  this  charming  surprise." 

The  eyes  of  the  Empress  shot  fire,  but  in  lieu  of  a  reply,  she  bent 
down  to  the  little  arch-duchess  Josepha,  who  was  just  old  enough  to  lisp 
her  father's  name,  and  said  : 

"  Josepha,  tell  the  Emperor  what  festival  we  celebrate  to-day."  Tiia 
Jittle  one  turning  to  her  father,  said,  "To-day  is  imperial  mama's  wed- 
ding-day." 

"  Our  wedding-day !"  murmured  the  Emperor,  "and  I  could  forget  it !" 

"  Oh  no  !  my  dear  husband,"  said  the  Empress.     "  I  am  sure  that  you 
cannot  have  forgotten  this  joyous  anniversary.     Its  remembrance  only' 
slumbered  in  your  heart,  and  the  presence  of  your  children  here,  I  trust 
has  awakened  that  remembrance,  and  carried  you  back  with  me  to  tho 
happy,  happy  days  of  our  early  love." 

The  voice  cf  the  wife  was  almost  tearful,  as  she  spoke  these  tender 
words,  and  the  Emperor,  touched  and  humbled  at  the  thought  of  his  own 
oversight,  sought  to  change  the  subject.  "  But  why,"  asked  he,  looking 
around,  "why,  if  all  our  other  children  are  here  to  greet  their  father  is 
Joseph  absent  from  this  happy  family  gathering?" 

"He  has  been  disobedient  and  obstinate  again,"  said  the  Empress, 
"with  a  shrug  of  her  shoulders,  "and  his  preceptor  to  punish  hin^^kept 
him  away."  • 

The  Emperor  walked  to  the  door.  "  Surely,"  exclaimed  he,  "on  such 
a  day  as  this,  when  all  my  dear  children  are  around  me,  my  son  and  the 
future  Emperor  should  be  the  first  to  bid  me  welcome." 

"  Stay,  my  husband,"  cried  the  Empress,  who  had  no  intention  of 
allowing  the  Emperor  to  escape  so  easily  from  his  embarrassment. 
"You  must  bo  content  to  remain  with  us,  without  the  fttiure  Efoperor 


'22  '  JOSI^I'H  THE  SECOND. 

of  Austria,  whose  reign,  I  hope  I  may  be  allowed  to  pray,  Is  yet  for  some 
years  postponed.  Or  is  this^ti  happy  device  of  the  future  Emperor's 
tiither  to  remind  me,  on  hiy  wedding-day,  that  I  am  growing  old  enough 
lo  begin  to  think  of  the  day  of  my  decease!" 

Thf  Emperor  was  perfectly  amazed.  Although  he  was  accustomed 
to  such  outbursts  on  the  part  of  his  wife,  ho  searclied  vainly  in  his  heart 
for  the  cause  of  such  intenge  bitterness  to-day.  He  looked  his  astonish- 
ment; and  tiie  Empress,  mindful  of  her  resolve  not  to  reproach  him, 
tried  her  best  to  smjle. 

The  Emperor  shook  his  head  thoughtfully  as  he  watched  her  face,  and 
said  half-aloud.  "All  is  not  right  with  thee,  Theresa ;  thou  smilest  like 
a  lioness,  not  like  a  woman."  . 

"Very  well,  then,"  said,  she  sharply,  "the  lioness  has  called  you  to 
look  upon  her  whelps.  One  day  they  will  be  lions  and  lionesses  too, 
and  in  that  day  they  will  avenge  the  injuries  of  their  mother." 

Tlie  Empress,  as  she  spoke,  felt  that  her  smothered  jealousy  was  burst- 
ing forth.  She  hastily  dismissed  her  children  and  going  herself  to  the 
door,  she  called  for  the  governess  of  the  baby,  and  almost  threw  him  in 
her  arms. 

"  I  forsee  the  coming  of  a  storm,"  thought  the  Emperor,  as  the  door 
being  closed,  Maria  Theresa  came  quickly  back,  and  stood  before  him. 

"And  is  it  indeed  true,"  said  she  bitterly,  "  that  you  had  forgotten 
vour  wedding-day]  Not  a  throb  of  your  heart  to  remind  you  of  the 
past!"  > 

"  My  memory  does  not  cling  to  dates,  Theresa,"  replied  the  Emperor. 
*'  What  if  to-day  be  accidentally  the  anniversary  of  our  marriage  1  With 
every  beating  of  my  heart,  /celebrate  the  hour  itself,  when  I  won  the 
proud  and  beautiful  heiress  of  Austria ;  and  when  I  remember  that  she 
deigned  to  love  me,  the  poor  arch-duke  of  Lorraine,  my  happiness  over- 
whelmed me.  Come  then  my  beautiful,  my  beloved  Theresa;  come  to 
my  heart  that  I  may  thank  you  for  all  the  blessings  that  I  owe  to  your 
love.  See,  dearest,  we  are  alone  ;  let  us  forget  royalty  for  to-day,  and 
be  happy  together  in  all  the  fullness  of  mutual  confidence  and  affection." 

So  saying,  he  would  have  pressed  her  to  his  heart,  but  the  Empress 
drew  coldly  back,  and  turned  deadly  pale.  This  unembarrassed  and  con- 
fident tenderness  irritated  her  beyond  expression.  That  her  f^iithlesa 
spouse  should  without  the  slightest  remorse,  act  the  part  of  the  devoted 
lover,  outraged  her  very  sense  of  decency. 

"  Really,  my  husband,  it  becomes  you  well  to  prate  of  confidence  and 
affection,  who  have  ceased  to  think  of  your  own  wife,  and  have  eyesalono 
for  tl\|  wife  of  another !" 

"Again  jealous,"  sighed  the  Emperor,  wearily.  "  Will  you  never  cease 
to  cloud  our  domestic  sky  by  the^e  absurd  and  groundless  suspicions'?" 

"  Groundless !"  cried  the  Empress,  tearing  the  letter  violently  from 
her  bosom,  "  With  this  proof  of  your  guilt  confronting  you,  you  will 
not  dare  to  say  that  I  am  jealous  without  cause  !" 

"Allo\f  n^o  to  inquire  of  your  majesty,  what  this  letter  is  to  prove'?" 


MARIA  TilEKESA.  23 

"  It  proves  that  to-day  you  hav6  written  a  letter  to  a  woman,  of  whom 
yesterday  you  said  that  she  was  the  most  beautiful  woman  in  the  world." 

"  I  have  no  recollection  of  saying  such  a  thing  of  any  woman  ;  and  I 
am  surprised  that  your  majesty  should  encourage  your  attendants  to  re- 
peat such  contemptible  tales,'*  replied  the  Emperor,  with  some  bitter- 
ness, "Were  I  lilce  you,  the  reigning  sovereign  of  a  great  empire,  I 
should  really  find  no  time  to  indulge  in  gossip  and  scandal." 

"Your  majesty  will  oblige  me  by  refraining  from  any  comment  upon 
ofTairs  which  do  not  concern  you.  I  alone  am  reigning  l^inpross  here, 
and  it  is  for  my  people  to  judge  whether  I  do  my  duty  to  them  ;  cer- 
tainly not  for  you,  who,  while  1  am  with  my  ministers  of  state,  employ 
your  leisure  hours  in  writing  love-letters  to  my  subjects." 

"  I  ?     1  write  a  love  letter  ?"  said  the  Emperor. 

"  How  dare  you  deny  it  ?"  cried  the  outraged  Empress.  "  Have  you 
also  forgotten  that  this  morning  you  sent  Gaspardi  out  of  the  palace  on 
an  errand '?"  .  ^  ^ 

"  No  I  have  not  forgotten  it,"  replied  the  Emperor,  with  growing 
astonishment.  .  But  Maria  Theresa  remarked  that  he  looked  confused, 
and  avoided  her  eye. 

"  You  confess  then  that  you  sent  the  letter,  and  requested  an  answer  ?" 

"  Yes,  but  1  have  received  no  answer,"  said  the  Emperor,  with  em- 
barrassment. 

"  There  is  your  answer,"  thundered  the  enraged  wife.  "  I  took  it  from 
Gaspardi  myself" 

"And  is  it  possible,  Theresa,  that  you  have  read  a  letter  addressed  to 
me  1"  asked  the  Emperor,  in  a  severe  voice. 

The  Empress  blushed,  and  her  eyes  sought  the  ground. 

"  No,"  said  she,  "I  have  not  read  it,  Franz." 

"  But  it  is  open,"  persisted  he,  taking  it  from  his  wife's  hand.  "  Who 
then  has  dared  to  break  the  seal  of  a  letter  addressed  to  me?" 

And  the  Emperor,  usually  so  mild  and  yielding  towards  his  wife,  stood 
erect,  with  stormy  brow  and  eyes  flashing  with  anger. 

Maria  Theresa  in  her  turn  was  surprised.  She  looked  earnestly  at 
him,  and  confessed  inwardly  that  never  had  she  seen  him  look  so  hand- 
some; and  she  felt  an  inexplicable  and  secret  pleasure  that  her  Exanz, 
for  once  in  his  life,  was  really  angry  with  her. 

"  I  broke  the  seal  of  the  letter,  but  I  swear  to  you  that  I  did  not  road 
one  word  of  it,"  replied  she.  "I  wished  to  see  the  signature  only,  and 
that  signature  was  enough  to  convince  me,  that  I  had  a  faithless  husband, 
who  outrages  an  Empress  by  giving  her  a  dancer  as  her  rival !" 

"The  signature  convinced  you  of  this?"  asked  the  Emperor. 

"It  did!" 

"And  you  read  nothing  else  ?" 

"  Nothing,  I  tell  you !" 

"  Then,  madam,"  returned  he,  seriously,  handing  the  letter  back  to  her, 
"  do  me  the  favor  to  read  the  whole  of  It.  After  breaking  the  seal,  you 
need  not  hesitate.    I  exact  it  of  you." 


2^  JOSEPH  THE  SECOjI^I). 

Hlie  Empress  looked  overwhelmed.  "  You  exact  of  me  to  read  a  love- 
ktter  addressed  to  you  !" 

"  I  certainly  do — You  took  it  from  my  valet,  you  broke  it  open,  and 
now  I  beg  you  will  be  so  good  as  to  read  it  aloud,  for  I  have  not  yet 
raa.d  it  myself." 

**I  will  read  it  then,"  cried  the  Empress^  scornfully.  "And  I  promise 
ywi  that  I  shall  not  suppress  a  word  of  its  contents." 

"  Read  on,"  said  the  Emperor,  quietly. 

Tho  Empress  with  loud  and  angry  tone  began: 

To  his  gracious  majesty,  the  Emperor — 

Your  majesty  has  honored  me  by  asking  my  advice  upon  a  subject  of 
bigliest  importance.  But  your  majesty  is  much  nearer  the  goal  than  I. 
it  is  true  that  my  gracious  master,  the  Count,  led  me  to  the  vestibule  of 
the  temple  of  science,  but  further  I  have  not  penetrated,  W  hat  I  know 
5  will  joyfully  impart  to  your  majesty;  and  joyfully  will  1  aid  you  in 
your  search,  after  that  which  the  whole  world  is  seeking.  I  will  come  at 
^  appointed  hour. . 

.  Your  majesty's  loyal  servant, 

RiCCARDO. 

^I  do  not  understand  a  word,"  said  the  mystified  Empress. 

^  But  I  do,"  returned  the  Emperor,  with  a  meaning  smile.     "  Since 

vou?  raajesty  has~ thrust  yourself  into  the  portals  of  my  confidence, 

I  juust  e'en  take  you  with  me  into  the  penetralia  ;  and  confess  at  once 
that  1  have  a  passion,  which  has  cost  me  many  a  sleepless  night,  and  has 
prtvoocupied  my  thoughts,  even  when  I  was  by  your  majesty's  side." 

"But  I  see  nothing  of  love  or  passion  in  this  letter,"  replied  Maria 
Theresa,  glancing  once  more  at  its  singular  contents. 

'*  And  yet  it  speaks  of  nothing  else.  Tmay  just  as  well  confess,  too, 
ti)at  la  pursuit  of  the  object  of  my  love,  I  have  spent  three  hundred 
thousand  guilders,  and  thrown  away  at  least  one  hundred  thousand  guil- 
tliH^j  worth  of  diamonds." 

**•  Your  mistress  must  be  either  very  coy,  or  very  grasping,"  said 
M»ria  Theresa,  almost  convulsed  with  jealousy. 

**She  is  very  coy,"  said -the  Emperor.  "All  my  gold  and  diamonds 
b&va  won  m©  not'd  smile — She  will  not  yield  up  her  secret.  But  I  be- 
iieve  th«tt  she  has  responded  to  the  love  of  one  happy  mortal,  Count 
Saint-Gernpain." 

"  Count  Saint-Germain !"  exclaimed  the  Empress,  amazed. 

"Himself,  your  majesty.  He  is  one  of  the  fortunate  few,  to  whom. 
the  coy  beautv  has  succumbed  ;  and  to  take  his  place  I  would  give  mil- 
Jionfj,  Now  1  heard  yesterday  that  the  confidant  of  the  Count  was  in 
Vienna;  and  hoping  to  learn  something  from  him,  I  invited  him  hither. 
Bignor  fiiccardo " 

'•'-  Signor  Riccardo !     Was  this  letter  written  by  a  man i" 

•Bjf  the  husband  of  the  dancer," 


MARIA  TtlERESA,  25 

"And  your  letter  was  addressed  to  him  1" 

"  Even  so,  madam."  y  ' 

"  Then  this  passion  of  which  you  speak,  is  your  old  passion — Alchemy." 

"Yes  it  is,  I  had  promised  you  to  give  it  up,  but  it  proved  stronger 
than  I.  Not  to  annoy  you,  I  have  ever  since  worked  secretly  in  my 
laboratory — I  have  just  conceived  a  new  idea !  I  am  about  to  try  the 
experiment  of  consolidating  small  diamonds  into  one  large  one,  by  means 
of  a  burning-glass." 

The  Empress  answered  this  with  a  hearty,  happy  laugh,  and  went  up 
to  her  husband  with  outstretched  hands. 

"  Franz,"  said  she,  "  I  am  a  simpleton  ;  and  all  that  has  been  ferment- 
ing in  my  heart,  is  sneer  nonsense.  My  cro\vn  does  not  prevent  me 
from  being  a  silly  woman.  But  my  heart's  love,  forgive  my  folly  for 
the  sake  of  my  love." 

Instead  of  responding  to  this  appeal,  the  Emperor  stood  perfectly  still, 
and  gazed  earnestly  and  ■seriously  at  his  wife. 

"  Your  jealousy,"  said  he,  after  a  moment's  silence,  "  I  freely  forgive, 
for  it  is  a  source  of  more  misery  to  you  than  to  me.  But  this  jealousy 
has  attacked  my  honor  as  a  man,  and  that  I  cannot  forgive.  As  reign- 
ing Empress,  I  render  you  homage  ;  and  am  content  to  occupy  the  second 
place  in  Austria's  realms.  I  will  not  deny  that  such  a  role  is  irksome 
to- me,  for  I,  like  you,  have  lofty  dreams  of  ambition ;  and  I  could  have 
wished  that  in  giving  me  the  title,  yon  had  allowed  me  sometimes  the 
privileges  of  a  co-regent.  But  I  have  seen  that  my  co-regency  irritated 
and  annoyed  you,  I  have  therefore  renounced  all  thought  of  governing 
empires.  1  have  done  this  not  only  because  I  love  you,  Theresa,  but 
because  you  are  worthy  by  your  intellect  to  govern  your  people  without 
my  help.  Jn  the  world,  therefore,  I  am  known  as  the  husband  of  the 
reigning  Empress.  But  at  home,  I  am  lord  of  my  own  household  ;  and 
here  I  reign  supreme.  The  Emperor  may  be  subordinate  to  his  sover- 
eign, but  the  man  will  acknowledge  no  superior ;  and  the  dignity  of  his 
manhood  shall  be  respected,  even  by  yourself." 

"  Heaven  forbid  that  I  should  ever  seek  to  wound  it,"  exclaimed 
Maria  Theresa,  while  she  gazed  with  rapture  upon  her  husband's  noble 
countenance,  and  thought  that  never  had  he  looked  so  handsome  as  at  this 
moment,  when  for  the  first  time  he  asserted  his  authority  against  herself. 

"  You  have  wounded  it,  your  majesty,"  replied  the  Emperor,  with  em- 
phasis. "  You  have  dogged  my  steps  with  spies  ;  you  have  suffered  my 
character  to  be  discussed  by  your  attendants.  You  have  gone  so  far  as 
to  compromise  me  with  my  own  servants;  forcing  them  to  disobey  me 
by  virtue  of  your  rights  as  sovereign,  Exercised  in  opposition  to  mine 
as  your  husband.  I  gave  Ga.spardi  orders  to  deliver  Riccardo's  note  to 
mc  alone.  I  forbade  him  to  tell  any  one  whither  he  went.  You  took 
my  note  from  him  by  force,  and  committed  the  grav-e  wrong  of  compell- 
ing a  servant  hitherto  faithful,  to  disobey  and  betray  his  master." 

"  I  did  indeed  wrong  you,  dear  Franz,"  said  the  Empress,  already 
penitent.     "In  Gaspardi'a  presence,  I  will  ask  your  pardon  for  my  in- 


26  ■     JOSEPH  TUjE^^COND. 

delicate  intrusion,  find  beforehim  t'will  bear  witness  to  his  fidelity.  I 
alone  was  to  blaine, — I  promise  you,  too,  to  sin  no  more  against  you, 
ray  beloved  ;  for  your  love  is  the  brightest  jewel  in  my  crown.  With- 
out it,  no  happiness  would  grandeur  give  to  me.  Forgive  me  then,  my 
own  Franz,  forgive  your  unhappy  Theresa !" 

As  she  spolie,  she  inclined  her  head  towards  her  husbftid,  and  looked 
up  to  him  with  such  eyes  of  love,  that  he  could  but  gaze  enraptured  up- 
on her  bewitching  beauty. 

"  Come,  Franz,  come  !"  said  she  tenderly.  "Surely,  that  wicked  jest 
of  yours  has  amply  revenged  you — Be  satisfied  with  having  given  me  a 
heart-ache  for  jealousy  of  the  coy-mistress  upon  whom  you  have  wasted 
your  diamonds,  and  be  magnanimous." 

"  And  you,  Theresa  ?  Will  you  be  magnanimous  also  1  Will  you 
leave  my  servants  and  my  letters  alone,  and  set  no  more  spies  to  dog 
my  steps?"  .  " 

"  Indeed,  Franz,  I  will  never  behave  as  I  have  done  to-day,  while  we 
both  live.  Now,  if  you  will  sign  my  pardon,  I  will  tell  you  a  piece  of 
news,  with  v/hich  I  intend  shortly  to  surprise  all  Austria." 

"  Out  with  it,  then,  and  if  it  is  good  news,  I  sign  the  pardon,"  said  the 
Emperor  with  a  smile. 

"  It  is  excellent  news,"  cried  the  Empress;  "  for  it  will  give  new  life 
to  Austria.  It  will  bring  down  revenge  upon  our  enemies,  and  revenge 
upon  that  wicked  infidel  who  took  my  beautiful  Silesia  from  me,  and 
who  boasting  of  his  impiety,  calls  it  enlightenment!" 

"  Have  you  not  yet  forgiven  Frederic  for  that  little  bit  of  Silesia  that 
he  stole  from  you  1"  asked  the  Emperor  laughing. 

"  No,  I  have  not  yet  forgiven  him,  nor  do  I  ever  expect  to  do  so.  I 
owe  it  to  him,  that,  j'^ears  ago,  I  came  like  a  beggar  before  the  Magyars 
to  whimper  for  help  and  defence.  I  have  never  yet  forgotten  the  hu- 
miliation of  that  day,  Franz," 

"  And  yet,  Theresa,  we  must  confess  that  Frederic  is  a  great  man, 
and  it  were  well  for  Austria  if  we  were  allies  ;  for  such  an  alliance  would 
secure  the  blessings  of  a  stable  peace  to  Europe." 

"  It  cannot  be,"  cried  the  Empress.  There  is  no  sympathy  between 
Austria  and  Prussia,  and  peace  will  never  come  to  Europe  until  one 
succumbs  to  the  other.  No  dependence  is  to  be  placed  upon  alliances 
between  incongruous  nations.  In  spite  of  our  allies,  the  English,  the 
Dutch  and  the  Russians,  the  King  of  Prussia  has  robbed  me  of  my  pro- 
viqce;  and  all  the  help  I  have  ever  gotten  from  them  was  empty  con- 
dolence. For  this  reason  I  have  sought  for  alliance  with  another  power; 
a  power  which  will  cordially  unite  with  me  in  crushing  that  hateful  infi- 
del, to  whom  nothing  in  life  is  sacred.  This  is  the  news  that  I  promised 
you.  Our  treaty  with  England  and  Holland  is  about  to  expire,  and  the 
new  ally  I  have  found  for  Austria,  is  France." 

"  An  alliance  with  France  is  not  a  natural  one  for  Austria,  and  can 
never  be  enduring,"  exclaimed  the  Emperor.* 

*  The  Emperor's  own  woi'de.    Coxe :  History  of  the  house  of  Austria,  vol,  5,  p,  CT. 


MARIA  THERESA.  27 

"  It^will  be  enduring,"  cried  Maria  Theres/i  proudly,  *'  for  it  is  equally 
desired  by  both  nations.  Not  only  Louis  XV.,  but  the  Marquise  de 
Pompadour  is  impatient  to  have  the  treaty  signed." 

"That  moans  that  Kauuitz  has  been  flatteriiijr  the  Marquise,  and  the 
Marquise,  Kaunifz.     H«t  words  are  not  treaties,  and  tlic  Marquise's 
.  promises  arc  of  no  consequence  whatever.'' 

*'  But,  Franz,  I  tell  you  that  wo  have  gone  further  than  words.  Of  this, 
however,  no  one  knows,  except  the  King  of  France,  myself,  Kaunitz  and 
the  Marquise." 

"  11  ow  in  the  world  did  you  manage  to  buy  the  good-will  of  the  Mar- 
quise ?     How  many  millions  did  you  pay  for  the  precious  boon  ?" 

"  Not  a  cent,  my  dear  husband,  only  a  letter." 

"  Letter  ?     Letter  from  whom  ?" 

"  A  letter  from  me  to  the  Marquise." 

"  What !"  cried  the  Emperor  laughing,  you  .write  to  La  Pompadour, 
yoit,  Theresa  ?" 

"  With  ray  own  hand,  I  have  written  to  her,  and  more  than  once,"  re^ 
turned  Maria  Theresa,  joining  in  the  laugh.  "  And  what  do  you  sup- 
pose I  did,  to  save  my  honor  in  the  matter  ?  I  pretended  to  think  that 
she  was  the  wife  of  the  King,  and  addressed  her  as  '  Madcwie,  ma  sveur 
et  cousine  P  " 

Here  the  Emperor  laughed  immoderately.  "  Well !  well '."  exclaimed 
he.  "So  the  Empress-Queen  of  Austria  and  Hungary  writes  with  her 
own  hand  to  her  beloved  cousin  La  Pompadour !" 

"And  do  you  know  what  she  calls  me  ?"'  laughed  the  Empress  in  re- 
turn. "Yesterday  I  had  a  letter  from  her  in  which  she  calls  me,  sport- 
ively, '  Ma  chcre  reine.^ " 

The  Emperor  broke  out  into  such  a  volley  of  laughter,  that  he  threw 
himself  back  upon  a  chair,  which  broke  under  him,  and  the  Empress  had 
to  come  to  his  assistance,  for  he  was  too  convulsed  to  get  up  alone.* 

"  Oh  dear  !  oh  dear  !"  groaned  the  Emperor,  still  continuing  to  laugh. 
"I  shall  die  of  this  intelligence.  Maria  Theresa  in  correspondence  with 
Madame  d'EtioIes  !" 

"  Well,  what  of  it,'  Franz  ?"  asked  Maria  Theresa.  "  Did  I  not  write 
to  the  Prima  donna  Farinelli  when  we  were  seeking  alliance  with  Spain? 
And  is  the  Marquise  not  as  good  as  a  soprano  singer  ?"f 

The  Emperor  looked  at  her  with  suoh  a  droll  expression  that  she  gave 
up  all  idea  of  defending  herself  from  ridicule,  and  laughed  as  heartily  as 
her  husband. 

At  this  moment  a  page  knocked,  and  announced  the  arch-duke  Joseph 
and  his  preceptor. 

"  Poor  lad,"  said  the  Emperor.  "  I  suppose  he  comes  as  usual,  accom- 
panied by  an  accuser. 

*  Historical. 

tThe  Empress'  own  words.    Coxc,  vol.  5,  page  C9. 


JOSEPH  THE  SECOND. 
Jo 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE    ARCH-DUKE    JOSEPH. 

The  Emperor  was  right,  father  Francis  came  in  with  complaints  of 
his  highness.  While  the  lather  with  great  pathos  set  fortli  the  reasons 
of  the  arch-duke's  absence  from  the  family  circle,  the  culprit  stood  by, 
apparently  indifferent  to  all  that  was  being  said.  But  to  any  one  observ- 
ing him  closely,  his  tremulous  mouth,  and  the  short  convulsive  sighs, 
which  he  vainly  strove  to  repress,  showed  the  real  anxiety  of  his  fast 
beating  heart.  He  thrust  back  his  rising  tears,  for  the  little  prince  was 
too  proud  to  crave  sympathy  ;  and  he  had  already  learned  how  to  hide 
emotion  by  a  cold  and  haughty  bearing.  From  his  childhood  he  had 
borne  a  secret  sorrow  in  his  heart ;  the  sorrow  of  seeing  his  young  bro- 
ther Carl  preferred  to  himself.  Not  only  was  Carl  the  darling  of  his 
parents,  but  he  was  the  pet  and  plaything  of  the  whole  palace.  True, 
the  poor  little  arch-duke  was  not  gifted  with  the  grace  and  charming 
naivete  of  his  brother.  He  was  awkward,  serious,  and  his  countenance 
wore  an  expression  of  discontent,  which  was  thought  to  betray  an  evil 
disposition,  but  which,  in  reality,  was  but  the  reflection  of  the  heavy  sor- 
row which  clouded  his  young  heart.  No  one  seemed  to  understand — no 
one  seemed  to  love  him.  Alone  in  the  midst  of  that  gay  and  splendid 
court,  he  was  never  noticed  except  to  be  chided.*  The  buds  of  his  poor 
young  heart  were  blighted  by  the  mildew  of  neglect,  so  that  outwardly 
he  was  cold,  sarcastic  and  sullen,  while  inwardly  he  glowed  with  a  thou- 
sand emotions,  which  he  dared  reveal  to  no  one,  for  no  one  seemed  to 
dream  that  he  was  capable  of  feeling  them. 

To-day,  as  usual,  he  was  brought  before  his  parents  as  a  culprit ;  and 
without  daring  to  utter  a  word  in  his  own  defence,  he  stood  by, 'while 
father  Francis  told  how  many  times  he  had  yawned  over  the  lives  of  the 
Martyrs ;  and  how  he  had  refused  to  read  longer  than  one  hour,  a  most 
edifying  commentary  on  the  fathers  of  the  Holy  Scriptures. 

The  Empress  heard  with  displwisure  of  her  son's  lack  of  piety  ;  and 
she  looked  severely  at  him  while  he  gazed  sullenly  at  a  portrait  that 
hung  oj)p6site. 

"And  can  it  be  my  son,"  exclaimed  she,  "  that  you  close  ydur  heart 
against  the  word  of  God,  and  refuse  to  read  religious  books  ?" 

The  boy  gave  her  a  glance  of  defiance.  "  I  do  not  know,"  said  he, 
carelessly,  "whether  the  books  are  religious  or  not ;  but  I  know  that  they 
are  tiresome,  and  teach  me  nothing." 

""Gracious  heavens,"  cried  the  Empress  with  horror,  "hear  the  impious 

child!" 

» 

*  Hubner,   Life  of  Josoph  Sd,  page  1&. 


MARIA  THERESA.         .  29 

"Rather,  your  majesty,"  said  father  Francis,  "let  us  pray  heaven  to, 
soften  hiy  heart."  The  Emperor  alone  said  nothing;  but  he  looked  at 
the  boy  with  a  friendly  and  sympathising  glance.  The  child  saw  the 
look,  and  for  one  moment  a  flush  of  pleasure  passed  over  his  face.  lie 
raised  his  eyes  with  an  appealing  expression  towards  his  father,  who 
could  no  longer  resist  the  temptation  of  coming  to  his  relief. 

"  Perhaps,"  suggested  he,  "  the  books  may  be  dull  to  a  child  of  Jo- 
seph's years." 

"  No  book,"  returned  the  Empress,  "should  be  dull  that  treats  of  God 
and  of  his  Holy  Church." 

"And  the  work,  your  majesty,  which  we  were  reading,  was  a  most 
learned  and  celebrated  treatise,"  said  father  Francis  ;  "one  highly  calcu- 
lated to  edify  and  instruct  youth." 

Joseph  turned  away  from  the  father,  and  spoke  to  the  Emperor. 

"  We  have  already  gone  through  five  volumes  of  it,  your  majesty,  and 
I  am  tired  to  death  of  it.  Moreover  Idon't  believe  half  that  I  read  in 
his  stupid  books." 

The  Empress  as  she  heard  this,  uttered  a  cry  of  pain.  She  felt  an  icy 
coldness  benumb  her  heart,  as  she  remembered  that  t^  unbelieving  boy 
was  one  day  to  succeed  her  on  the  throne  of  Austria.  The  Emperor,  too, 
was  pained.  By  the  deadly  paleness  of  her  face,  he  guessed  the  pang 
that  was  rending  his  wife's  heart,  and  he  dared  say  no  more  in  defence 
of  his  son. 

"  Your  majesty  sees,"  continued  father  Francis,  "how  far  is.  the  heart 
of  his  highness  from  God  and  the  church.  His  instructors  are  grieved 
at  his  precocious  unbelief,  and  they  are  this  day  to  confer  together  upon 
the  painful  subject.  The  hour  of  the  conference  is  at  hand,  and  1  crave 
your  majesty's  leave  to  repair  thither." 

"  No,"  said  the  Empress,  with  a  deprecating  gesture.  "  No.  Remain, 
good  father.  Let  this  conference  be  held  in  the  presence  of  the  Emperor 
and  myself.     It  is  fitting  that  we  bothknow  the  worst  in  regard  to  our  child." 

The  Emperor  bowed  acquiescence,  and  crossing  the  room,  topk  a  seat 
by  the  side  of  the  Empress. 

He  rang  a  little  golden  bell ;  and  the  page  who  came  at  the  summons, 
■was  ordered  to  request  the  attendance  of  the  preceptors  of  his  highness 
the  crown-prince  of  Austria. 

Maria  Theresa  leaned  her  head  upon  her  hand,  and  with  a  sad  and 
perplexed  countenance  watched  the  open  door.  The  Emperor,  with  his 
arm  thrown  over  the  richly  gilded  back  of  the  divan,  looked  earnestly 
at  the  young  culprit,  who  pale,  and  with  a  beating  heart,  was  trying  his 
best  to  suppress  his  increasing  emotion. 

"I  will  not  cry,"  thought  he,  scarcely  able  to  restrain  his  tears,  "for 
that  would  be  a  triumph  for  my  detestable  teachers.  1  am  not  going  to 
give  them  the  pleasure  of  knowing  that  I  am  miserable." 

And  by  dint  of  great  exertion,  he  mastered  his  agitation.  Ho  was  so 
successful  that  he  did  not  move  a  muscle,  nor  turn  his  head  when  the 
solemn  procession  of  his  accusers  entered  the  room. 


30  JOSEPH  THE  SECOKD. 

.  First,  a,t  the  head,  came  father  Porhammer,  who  gave  him  lessons  in 
logic  and  physics.  After  him  wallied,  the  engineer  Brigucn,  professor  of 
mathematics.  Then  Herr  Von  Lepormi,  who  instructed  him  in  general 
history.  Herr  Von  Bartenstein,  who  expounded  the  political  hi.-uory'of 
the  house  of  Austria.  Baron  Von  Beck',  who  was  his  instructor  in  judi- 
cature ;  and  finally  his  governor,  Count  Bathiany,  the  only  one  towards 
whoni  the  young  prince  felt  a  grain  of  good-will. 

The  Empress  greeted  them  with  grave  courtesy,  and  exhorted  them 
to  say  without  reserve  before  his  parents,  what  they  thought  of  the  pro- 
gress and  disposition  of  the  arch-duke. 

Count  Bathiany,  with  an  encouraging  smile  directed  towards  his  pupil, 
assured  their  majesties  that  the  arch-duke  was  anxious  to  do  right.  Not 
because  he  was  told  so  to  do  by  others,  but  because  he  followed  the  dic- 
tates of  his  own  co-nscience.  True,  his  highness  would  not  see  througli 
the  eyes  of  any  other  person  ;  but  this,  thoughjt  might  be  a  defect  in  a 
child,  would  be  the  reverse  in  a  man,  above  all,  in  a  sovereign.  "  In 
proof  of  the  arch-duke's  sincere  desire  to  do  right,"  continued  Count 
Bathiany,  "allow Mne  to  repeat  to  your  majesties  something  which  he 
said  to  me  yesteroay.  We  "were  reading  together  Bellegarde  on  know-" 
ledge  of  self  and  of  human  nature.  The  l?eautiful  thoughts  of  the  author 
so  touched  the  heart  of  his  highness,  that  stopping  suddenly,  he  exclaim- 
ed to  me,  "  We  must  read  this  again ;  for  when  I  come  to  the  throne  I 
shall  need  to  know,  not  only  myself,  but  other  men  also." 

"  Well  said,  my  son  !"  exclaimed  the  Emperor.  '  • 

"I  cannot  agree  with  your  majesty,"  said  the  Empress, coldly,  "/do 
not  think  it  praiseworthy  for  a  child  of  his  age  to  look  forward  with  com- 
placency to  the  day  when  his  mother's  death  will  confer  upon  him  a 
throne.  To  me  it  would  seem  more  uatural  if  Joseph  thought  more  of 
his  present  duties,  and  less  of  his  future  honors." 

A  breathless  silence  followed  these  bitter  words.  The  Emperor,  in 
confusion,  withdrew  behind  the  harpsichord.  The  arch-duke  looked  per- 
fectly indifferent.  While  Count  Bathiany  was  repeating  his  words,  his 
face  had  slightly  flushed ;  but  when  he  heard  the  sharp  reproof  of  his 
mother,  he  raised  his  head,  and  gave  her  back  another  defiant  look.  With 
the  same  sullen  haughtiness,  he  stared  first  at  one  accuser,  and  then  at  an- 
other, while  each  one  in  his  turn,  gave  judgment  against  him.  First,  and 
most  vehement  in  his  denunciations,  was  Count  Bartenstein.  He  denoun- 
ced the  arch-duke  as  idle  and  inattentive.  He  never  would  have  any  po- 
litical sagacity  whatever.  Why,  even  thegreatworkinfifteen  folios,  which 
he  (Count  Bartenstein)  had  compiled  from  the  imperial  archives  for  the 
especial  instruction  of  the  prince,  even  that  failed  to  interest  him  !* 

Then  followed  the  rest  of  their  professorships.  One  complained  of 
disrespect ;  another  of  carelessness  ;  a  third  of  disobedience ;  a  fourth 
of  irreligion.  All  concurred  in  declaring  the  arch-duke  to  be  obstinate, 
unfeeling  and  intractable. 

•Hormayer  says  that  this  book  was  heavy  aud  Illled  with  tiresome  details. 
No  TVOBdcr.     In  lifteeq  folios.    Trana. 


MARIA  THERESA.  31 

His  face  meanwhile  grew  paler  and  harder,  until  ifc  seemed  almost 
ready  to  sfilTen  into  marble.  Although  every  censorious  word  went  like 
a  dajrger  to  his  sensitive  heart,  he  still  kept  on  murmuring  to  himself, 
"I  will  not  cry,  I  will  not  cry." 

His  mother  divined  nothing  of  the  agony  that,  like  a  wild  tornado,  was 
desolating  the  fair  face  of  ho-r  child's  whole  being.  She  saw  nothing  be- 
yond the  portals  of  that  cold  and  sullen  aspect,  and  the  sight  tilled  her 
with  sorrow  and  aifger. 

"Alas,"  cried  she,  bitterly,  "  you  are  right.  He  is  a  refractory  and 
unfeeling  boy." 

At  this  moment,  like  the  voice  of  a  conciliatory  angel,  were  heard  the 
soft  tones  of  the  melody  with  which  the  Empress  had  greeted  her  hus- 
band that  morning.  It  was  the  Emperor,  whose  hands  seemed  uncon- 
sciously to  wander  over  the  keys  of  the  harpsichord,  while  every  head 
bent  entranced  to  listen. 

When  the  first  tones  of  the  heavenly  melody  fell  upon  his  ear,  the 
young  prince  began  to  tremble.  His  features  softened  ;  his  lips  so  scorn- 
fully compressed,  now  parted,,  as  if  to  drink  in  every  sound  ;  his  eyes 
filled  with  tears,  and  every  angry  feeling  of  his  heart  was  hushed  by  the 
magic  of  music.  With  voice  of  love  it  seemed  to  call  him,  and  unable 
to  resist  its  power  and  its  pathos,  he  burst  into  a  flood  of  tears,  and  with 
one  bound  reached  his  father's  arms  sobbing. 

"  Father,  dear  father,  pity  me !" 

The  Emperor  drew  the  poor  boy  close  to  his  heart.  He  kissed  his 
blond  curls,  and  whispering,  said,  "  Dear  child,  I  knew  that  you  were  not 
heartless.     I  was  sure  that  you  would  cotae  when  your  father  called." 

The  Empress  had  started  from  her  seat,  and  she  now  stood  in  the  cen- 
tre of  the  room,  earnestly  gazing  upon  her  husband  and  her  child.  Her 
mother's  heart  beat  wildly,  and  tears  of  tenderness  suffused  her  eyes. 
She  longed  to  speak  some  word  of  pardon  to  her  son ;  but  before  all 
things,  Maria  Theresa  hon,ored. court  ceremony.  She  would  not,  for  the 
•world,  that  her  subjects  had  seen  her  otherwise  than  self  possessed  and 
regal  in  her  bearing. 

With  one  great  effort  she  mastered  her  emotions ;  and  before  the 
strength  of  her  will,  the  mighty  flood  rolled  back  upon  her  heart.  Not 
a  tc^ar  that  glistened  in  her  eye-lids. fell  5  not  a  tone  of  her  clear,  silvery 
voice  was  heard  to  falter. 

"  Count  Bathiany,"  said  she,  "I  perceive  that  in  the  education  of  the 
arch-duke,  the  humanising  influences  of  music  have  been  overlooked. 
Music  to-day  has  been  more  powerful  with  him  than  filial  love  or  moral 
obligation.  Select  for  him  then  a  skilful  teacher,  who  will  make  use  of 
his  art  to  lead  my  son  back  to  duty  and  religion."* 
♦Maria  Theresa's  own  words.    Coxe, House  of  Austria,  vol,  5. 


32  JOSEPH  THE  SECOND 


CHAPTER  Vi. 

KAUNITZ. 

Three  weeks  had  e]apsed  since  the  memorable  sitting  at  which  Miaria 
Theresa  had  declared  in  favor  of  a  new  line  of  policy.  Three  long  weeks 
had  gone  by,  and  still  no  message  came  for  Kaunitz ;  and  still  Barten- 
stein  and  Uhlefeld  held  the  reigns  of  power. 

With  hasty  steps,  Kaunitz  paced  the  floor  of  his  study.  Gone  was  all 
coldness  and  impassibility  from  his  face.  His  eyes  glowed  with  restless 
fire,  and  his  features  twitched  nervously. 

His  secretary,  who  sat  before  the  writing-table,  had  been  gazing 
anxiously  at  the  Count,  for  some  time.  He  shook  his  head  gloomily,  as 
he  contemplated  the  strange  sight  of  Kaunitz,  agitated  and  disturbed. 

Kaunitz  caught  the  eye  of  his  confidant,,  and  coming  hastily  towards 
the  table,  he  stood  for  a  few  moments  v/ithout  speaking  a  word.  Sud- 
denly be  burst  into  a  loud,  ha<-sh  laugh  ;  a  laugh  so  bitter,  so  sardonic, 
that  Baron  Binder  turned  pale  as  he  heard  the  sound. 

"Why  are  you  so  pale.  Binder  1"  asked  Kaunitz,  still  laughing,  "why- 
do  you  start  as  if  you  had  received  an  electric  shock?" 

"  Your  laugh  is  like  an  electric  shook  to  my  heart,"  replied  the  Baron. 
"  Its  sound  was  enough  to  make  a. man  pale.  Why,  for  ten  years  I  have 
lived  under  your  roof,  and  never  have  I  heard  you  laugh  before." 

"  Perhaps  you  are  right.  Binder,  for  in  sooth  my  laugh  echoes  gloomily 
within  the  walls  of  my  own  heart.  But  I  could  not  help  it.  You  had 
such  a  droll  censorious  expression  on  your  face.". 

"  No  wonder,"  returned  Baron  Binder.  "  It  vexes  me  to  see  a  states- 
man so  irresolute  and  unmanned." 

"Statesman!"  exclaimed  Kaunitz,  bitterly,  "who  knows  whether  my 
role  of  statesman  is  not  played  out  already  !" 

He  resumed  his  walk  in  moody  silence,  while  Binder  followed  him 
with  his  eyes.  Suddenly  Kaunitz  stopped  again  before  the  table.  "  Bar- 
on," said  he,  "  you  have  known  me  intimately  for  ten  years.  In  all  my 
embassies  you  have  been  with  me  as  attache.  Since  we  have  lived  to- 
gether, have  you  ever  known  rae  to  Tje  faint-hearted  ?" 
.  "  Never  !"  cried  the  Baron,  "never  !  I  have  seen  you  brave  the  anger 
of  monarchs,  the  hatred  of  enemies,  the  treachery  of  friends  and  mis- 
tressses.  I  have  stood  by  your  side  in  more  than  one  duel,  and  never 
before  have  I  seen  you  otherwise  than  calm  and  resolute." 

Judge  then,  how  sickening  to  me  is  this  suspense,  since  for  the  first 

time  in  my  life,  I  falter.     Oh  !  I  tremble  lest " 

^  "  Lest  what?"  asked  the  Baron,  with  interest. 
"  Binder,  I  fear  that  Maria  Theresa  may  prove  less  an  empress  than 


.   MAHIA  THERESA.  33 

a  woman.  I  fear  that  the  persuasions  of  the  handsome  Francis  of  Lor- 
raine may  outweigh  her  own  convicti..ins  of  right.  What  if  her  husband's 
caresses,  her  confessor's  counsel,  or  her  own  feminine  caprice,  should 
blind  her  to  the  welfare  of  her  subjects,  and  the  interest  of  her  empire? 
Oh  what  a  giant  structure  will  fall  to  the  earth,  if,  at  this  crisis,  the  Era- 
press  should  fail  me  !  Think  what  a  triumph  it  would  be,  to  dash  aside 
my  rivals  and  seize  the  helm  of  state  !  To  gather,  upon  the  deck  of  on© 
___  stout  ship,  all  thepaltry  principalities  that  call  themselves  '  Austria  i,' 
to  band  them  into  one  consolidated  nation  ;  and  then  to  steer  this  noble 
ship  into  a  haven  of  greatness  and  glorious  peaOe!  Binder,  to  this  end 
alone,  I  live.  1  have  outlived  all  human  illusions,  I  have  no  faith  in 
love— it  is  bought  and  sold.  No  faith  in  the  tears  of  men  ;  none  in  their 
smiles.  Society,  to  me,  is  one  vast  madhouse.  If  in  its  frenzied  walls 
I  show  that  I  am  sane,  the  delirious  throng  will  shout  out,  'Seize  the 
•lunatic'  Therefore  must  I  seem  as  mad  as  they,  and  therefore  it  is  tkat 
outside  of  this  study,  I  commit  a  chousand  follies. — In  such  a  world  I 
have  no  faith  ;  but.  Binder,  I  believe  in  divine  Ambition.  It  is  the  only 
passion  that  has  ever  stirred  my  heart ;  the  only  passion  worthy  fo  fill 
the  soul  of  a  man  !  My  only  love,  then,  is  Ambition.  My  only  dream 
is  of  power.  Oh  that  I  might  eclipse  and  outlive  the  names  of  my  ri- 
vals. But  alas!  alas!  I  fear  that  the  greatne^'s  uf  Kaunitz  will  bo 
wrecked  upon  the  shoals  of  Maria  Theresa's  shallowness!" 

"No,  no,"  said  the  Baron  vehemently.  "Fear  nothing,  Kaunitz ; 
you  are  the  man  who  is  destined  to  make  Austria  great,  and  to  disperse 
the  clouds  of  ignorance  that  darken  the  minds  of  her  people." 

"  You  may  ho  sure  that  if  ever  i  attain  power,  Binder,  nor  churchy  nor 
churchman  shall  \tkve  a  voice  in  Austria.  Kaunitz  alone  shall  reign. 
But  will  Maria  Theresa  consent?-  Will  she  ever  have  strength  of  mind 
to  burst  the  shackles  with  which  silly  love  and  silly  devotion  have  bound 

her  !     I  fear  not.     Religion " 

Here,  the  door  opened,  and  the  Count's  valet  handed  a  card  to  the 
Secretary. 

*'  A  visit  from  Count  Bartenstein !"  exclaimed  the  Baron  triumphant- 
ly.    "Ah!  I  knew " 

"  Will  you  receive  him  here,  in  the  study?" 

"  I  will  receive  him  nowhere,"  replied  Kaunitz  coldly.  ,  '« Say  to  tho 
Count,"  added  he  to  the  valet,  "  that  I  am  engaged,  and  beg  to  ba  ex- 
cused." ^  .     . 

"What?  You  deny  yourself  to  the  Prime  Minister,"  cried  Binder 
terrified. 

Kaunitz  motioned  to  the  servant  to  withdraw.  "  Binder,  said  he  ex- 
ultingly,"  do  you  not  see  from  this  visit  that  my  day  is  about  to  dawn, 
and  that  Bartenstein  is  the  first  lark  to  greet  the  rising  sun  !  Ilis  visit 
proves  that  he  feels  a  presentment  of  his  fall,  and  my  rebulf  shall  verify 
it.  The  whole  world  will  understand  that  when  Bartenstein  was  turned 
away  from  my  door,  I  gave  old  Austria,  as  well  as  himself,  a  parting 
kick.    Away  with  anxiety  and  fear !    The  deluge  is  over,  and  old  Bar- 

H 


34  JOSEPH  THE  SECOND 

tenstein  has  brought  me  the  olive  branch  that  announces  •dry  land  and 
safety!" 

"  My  dear  Count !"  -  , 

"  Yes,  Binder,  dry  land  and  safety.  Now  we  will  be  merry,  and  lift 
our  head  high  up  into  clouds  of  Olympic  revel !  Away  with  your  deeds 
and  your  parchments  !  We  are  no  longer  book-worms,  but  butterflies. 
Let  us  sport  among  the  roses  !"  ^ 

While  Kaunitz  spoke  he  seized  a,  hand-bell  from  the  table,  and  rang 
vehemently.  '  • 

"  Make  ready  for  me  in  my  dressing-room,"  said  he  to  the  valet.  Let 
the  cook  prepare  a  costly  dinner  for  twenty  persons.  Let  the  steward 
select  the  rarest  wines  in  the  cellar.  Tell  him  to  see  that  the  Cham- 
pj'.ffne  is  not  too  warm,  nor  the  Johannesberg  too  cold  ;  the  Sillery  too 
dry,  nor  the  Lachryma  Christi  to  acid.  Order  two  carriages,  and  send 
onefor  Signora  Ferlina,  and  the  other  for  Signora  Sacco.  Send  two 
footmen  to  Counts* Harrach  and  Colloredo,  with  my  compliments.     Stay 

here  is  a  list  of  the  other  guests.     Send  a  messenger  to  the  apartments 

of  my  sister,  the  Countess.  Tell  her,  with  my  respects,  to  oblige  me  by 
dining  to-day  in  her  own  private  rooms.  I  will  not  need  her  to  preside 
over  my  dinner-table,  to-day." 

"  But,  my  lord,"  stammered  the  valet,  "  the  Countess " 

'c  Well— what  of  her  r  ^ 

"  The  Countess  has  been  de gone  for  a  week.'' 

"  Gone,  without  taking  leave  1     Where  ?" 

"  There,  my  lord,"  replied  the  valet,  in  a  low  voice,  pointing  upwards 
towards  heaven. 

"  What  does  he  mean,  Binder  ?"  asked  Kaunitz  with  a  shrug. 

Binder  shrugged  responsive. 

"The  good  Countess,"  said  he,  "had- been  ill  for  some  time;  but  did 
not  wish  to  disturb  you.  You  must  have  been  partially  prepared  for 
the  melancholy  event,  for  the  Countess  has  not  appeared  at  table,  for 
three  weeks." 

"  Me "?  Not  at  all.  Do  you  suppose  that  during  these  last  three 
weeks, . I  have  had  time  to  think  of  her!  *I  never  remarked  her  absence. 
When  did  the — the ceremony  take  place'?" 

"  Day  before  yesterday.     I  attended  to  every  thing." 

"  My  dear  friend,  how  I  thank  you  for  sparing  me  the  sight  of  these 
hideous  rites.  Your  arrangements  must  have  been^  exquisite ;  for  I  nev- 
er so  much  as  suspected  the  thing.  Fortvmately,  it  is  all  over,  and  we 
can  enjoy  ourselves  as  usual.  Here,  Philip.  Let  the  house  look  festive. 
Flowers  on  the  stair-cases  and  in  the  entrance-hall.  Oranges  and  roses 
m  the  dining-room.  Vanillasticks  in  the  coffee-cups  instead  of  tea  spoons. 
Away  with  you !" 

The  valet  bowed,  and  when  he  was  out  of  hearing,  Kaunitz- renewed 
his  thanks  to  the  Baron. 

"  Once  more,  thank  you  for  speeding  my  sister  on  her  journey,  and 
for  saving  me  a.11  knowledge  of  thts  unpleasant  affair.     How  glad  tho 


MARIA  THERESA.  35 

Si<nioras  will  be  to  hear  that  the  Countess  has  positively  gone,  never  to 
return.  Whom  .shail  I  get  to  replnco  her?  Wt.ll,  never  mind  now — 
some  otlier  time  we'll  settle  that  little  matter.     Now  to  my  tpilet." 

He  bent  his  head  to  the  Baron,  and  with  light,  clastic  step,  passed  in- 
to his 'dressing-rooin. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

tHE  TOILET. 

When  Kaunitz  entered  bis  dressing-room,  his  features  had  resumed 
their  usual  immobility.  He  walked  in,  without  seeming  to  be  aware  of 
the  presence  of  his  attendants,  who  ranged  ou  either  side  of  the  apart- 
ment, awaited  his  commands. 

Ho  weilt  up  to  his  large  Venitian  fnirror,  and  there  surveyed  himself 
at  full  length.  W'ith  anxious  glance,  his  keen  eyes  sought  out  every 
faint  line  that  told  of  the  four  and  thirty  years  of  his  life.  The  picture 
seemed  deeply  interesting,  for  he  stood  a  long  time  before  the  glass.  At 
last  the  scrutiny  was  ended,  and  he  turned  slightly  towards  the  hair-dresser, 

"  Is  the  perruque  ready '?" 

The  hair-dresser  fluttered  off  to  a  band-box,  that  lay  on  the  toilet-ta- 
ble, and  lifted  out  a  fantastic-looking  blond  perruque,  constructed  after 
"his  Excellency's  own  design."  Kaunitz  was  not  aware  of  it,  but  this 
wig  of  his,  wiih  its  droll  mixture  of  flowing  locks  and  the  prim  purse  be- 
hind, was  an  exact  counterpart  of  the  life  and  character  of  its  inventor. 
He  had  hajj  no  intention  of  being  symbolic  in  his  contrivance;  it  had 
been  sol^'  designed  to  conceal  the  little  tell-tale  lines  that  were  just 
about  to  indent  the  smooth  surface  of  his  white  forehead.  He  bent  his 
proud  head,  while  the  hair-dresser  placed  the  wonderful  wig,  and  then 
fell  to  studying  its  effect.  Here,  he  drew  a  curl  forward,  there  he  gently 
removed  another  ;  placing  each,  one  in  its  position  over  his  eye-brows, 
so  that  no  treacherous  side-light  should  reveal  anything  he  chose  to  hide. 
^Finally  the  work  was  done.  "  Hippolyte,"  said  he  to  the  hair  dresser, 
who  stood  breathlessly  by,  "  this  is  the  way  in  "Cvhich  my  wig  is  to  be 
dressed  from  this  d»y  forward.'"^' 

Hippolyte  bowed  low,  and  stepped  back  to  give  place  to  the  valets, 
who  came  in  with  the  Count's  costume.  One  bore  a  rich  habit  embroid- 
ered with  gold,  and  the  other  a  pair  of  velvet-shorts,  red  stockings,  and 
diamond  buckled-shoes. 

*  From  this  time  Kfiunitz  wore  his  wig  In  this  eccentric  fashion.  It  w?s  adopted  hy  the  Cxquititcg 
<ir  Vienna,  jnd  called  "the  Kannitsrenuqvie." 


36  '     JOSEPH  THE  SECOND 

"  A  simpler  habit — Spanish,  without  embroidery,  and  white  stockings." 

White  stockings  !  The  valets  were  astounded  at  such  high-treason 
against  the  Court-regulations  of  Vienna.  But  Kaunitz,  with  a  slight  and 
contemptuous  shrug,  ordered  them  a  second  time  to  bring  him  white 
stucidngs,  and  never  to  presume  to  bring  any  other. 

Now,  go  and  await  me  in  the.  puderkammcr.^]*  . 

Tlie  valets  backed  out  as  if  in  the  presence  of  royalty,  and  the  eccen- 
tric statesman  was  loft  with  his  chief  valek  The  toilet  was  complcted| 
in  solemn  silence.  Then,  the  Count  walked  to  the  mirror  to  take  an-' 
other  look  at  his  adored  person.  Pie  gave  a  complacent  stroko  to  his 
ruff  of  richest  AlenQon,  smoothed  the  folds  of  his  habit,  carefully  arrang- 
ed the  lace  frills  that  fell  over  his  white  hands,  and  then  turning  to  his 
valet,  he  said,  "  Powder-mantle." 

Tlie  valet  unfolded  a  little  package,  and  with  pretor-careful  hands, 
dropped  a  ]png  white  mantle  over  the  shoulders  of  the  ministerial  cox- 
comb. Its  light  folds  closed  around  him,  and  with  an  olympian  nod,  he 
turned  towards  the  door,  while  the  valet  flew  to  open* it.  As  soon  as 
the  Count  appeared,  the  other  valets,  who,  with  the  hair-dresser,  stood 
on  either  side  of  the  room,  raised  each  one,  a  long  brush  dipped  in  hair- 
powder,  and  waved  it  to  and  fro.  Clouds  of  white  dust  filled  the  room  ; 
while  through  the  mist,  with  grave  and  delU)erale  gait,  walked  Kaunitz, 
.every  now  and  then  halting,  when  the  brushes  all  stopped ;  then  giving 
the  word  of  command,  when  they  all  fell  vigorously  to  work  again.  , 
l^'our  times  he  went  through  the  farce,  and  then,  grave  as  a  ghost,  he 
walked  back  to  his  dressing-room,  followed  by  the  hair-dresser. 

At  the  door,  the  chief  valet  carefully  removed  the  powdcr-mantlei'and 
for  the  third  time-  Kaunitz  turned  to  the  mirror.  There  he  carefully 
wiped  the  powder  from  his  eyes,  and  with  a  smile  of  extreme  satisfac- 
tion he  turned  to  the  hair-dresser. 

"  Confess,  Hippolyte,  that  nothing  is  more  beautifying  than  powder. 
See  how  exquisitely  it  lies  on  the  front  ringlets,  and  how  airily  it  is  dis- 
tributed over  the  entire  perruque.  Vraiment,  I  am  proud  of  my  in- 
vention.*' 

Hippolyte  protested  that  it  was  worthy  of  the  god-like  intellect  of  his 
Excellency,and  was  destined  to  make  an  era  in  the  annals  of  hair-dressing." 

"The  annals  of  hair-dressing,"  replied  his  Excellency,  "are  not  to  bife 
enriched  wiih  any  account  of  my  method  of  using  powder.  If  ever  I 
hear  a  word  of  this  discovery  breathed  outside  of  these  rooms,  I  dismiss 
the  whole'pack  of  you>     Do  you  hear!" 

Down  went  the  obsequious  heads,  while  Kaunitz  continued,  with  his 
fine  cambric  handkerchief,  to  remove  the  last  specka  of  powder  from  his 
eye-lids.  When  he  had  sufficiently  caressed  and  admired  himself,  he 
went  to  the  door.  It  opened,  and  two  valets,  who  stood  outside,  pre- 
sented him, one  with  a  jewelled  snuff-box,  the  other  with  an  embroidered 
Handkerchief.  A  large  brown  dog  that  lay  couchantin  the  halj,  rose  and 
followed  him,  and  the  last  act  of  the  daily  farce  was  over. 

*  lAtvraHy,  "  Tiyraer-rBoiB," 


r/l^'     '  1^^'      ^       MARIA  THEliE*<A.  37 

The  Count  passed  into  his  study,  and  going  at  once  to  ihc  taWo,  ho 
turned  over  the  papers.  "  No  message  yet  from  the  Empress,"  said  ho 
chagrined,     "  What  if  Bartenstein's  visit  was  not  a  politic,  but  a  triumph- 

ant  one.     What  a " 

Here  the  door  opened,  and  Baron  Binder  entered.  "  Your  Excellen- 
cy," said  he  smiling,  "I  have  talien  upon  myself  to  bear  you  a  message 
which  y6ur  servants  declined  to  bring.  It  is  to  announce  a  visitor. 
The  hour  for  reception  has  gone  by,  but  he  was  so  urgent  that  I  really 
could  not  refuse  his  entreaties  that  you  might  be  told  of  his  preseuoo. 
Pardon  my  officiousness,  but  you  know  how  soft-hearted  I  am.  1  could 
never  resist  importunity." 

"  Who  is  your  suppliant  friend*?" 

"Count  Bartenstein,  my  lord." 

"  Bartenstein.  Bartenstein  back  already  !"  exclaimed  Kaunitz,  exnlt- 
ingly.     "And  he  begged — he  begged  for  an.  interview,  you  say  ?" 

"  Begged!  the  word  is  faint  to  express  his  supplications." 

"Then  I  am  not  mistaken  !"  cried  Kaunitz,  with  loud  triumphant  voice, 
"  If  Bartenstein  begs,  it  is  all  over  with  him.  Twice  in  ray  ante-roora 
in  one  day  !  That  is  equivalent  to  a  message  from  the  Empress." 
And  Kaunitz,  not  caring  to  dissimulate  with  Binder,  gave  vent  to  his 
exceeding  joy.  ' 

"And  you  will  be  magnanimous — you  will  see  him,  will  you  not?" 
asked  Binder,  imploringly. 

"  What  for  V  asked  the  heartless  statesman.     "  If  he  means  business, 

the  council-chamber  is  the  place  for  that  ^  if  he  comes  to  visit  me 'I 

beg  to  be  excused.' " 

"  But  when  I  beg  you,  for  vnj  sake.  Count,"  persisted  the  goodnatiiied 
Baron  ;  "  the  sight  ot  fallen  greatness  is  such  a  painful  one.  How  can 
any  one  add  to  it  a  feather's  weight  of  anguish  !" 

Kaunitz  laid  his  hand  upon  the  broad  shoulders  of  hfs  friend  ;  and  in 
his  eye  tliere  kindled  something  like  a  ray  of  affection. 

"  Grown-up  child,  your  heart  is  as  soft  as  if  it  had  nerer  been  breathed 
upon  by  the  airs  of  this  wicked  world — say  no  more  about  Bartenstein, 
and  I  will  reward  your  interest  in  his  misfortune,  by  making  you  his 
successor.  You  shall  be  State-Referendarius  yourself.  Come  along, 
you  chicken-hearted  statesman,  and  let  us  play  a  game  of  billiards." 

"First,"  said  Binder,  sadly,  "I  must  deliver  my  painful  message  to 
Count  Bartenstein." 

"Bah  !  the  page  can  be  sent  to  dismiss  him." 

"But  there  is  no  reason  why  we  should  keep  the  poor  man  waiting.'* 

"  Him,  the  poor  man,  say  you  ?  I  remember  the  day  when  I  waited 
in  his  ante-room,  and  as  1  am  an  honest  man,  I  shall  pay  him  with  1h- 
tcrest.     Come  along  mv  dear  future  State- Roferendarius." 


■^S     '■  JOHEPii  THE  .iECONlJ. 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE  RED  STOCKINGS, 

At  Kaunltz's  dinner-table  on  that  day,  revelry  reigned  triiimpliant. 
No  jest  was  too.  bold  for  the  lips  of  the  men ,  and  if  perchance  upon  the 
cheelcs  of  their  beautiful  companians,  there  rose  ilie  slightest  flush  of 
womanly  shame,  the  knights  of  the  revel  shouted  applause,  and  pealed 
forth  their  praises  in  wildest  dithyrambies.  V/ith  .glowing  faces  and 
eyes  of  flame,  they  ate.  their  highly-spiced  viands  and  drank  their  fiery 
wines,  until  all  restraint  was  flung  aside,  and  madness  ruled  the  hour. 

The  lovely  Ferlina,  whom  Kaunitz  had  placed  next  to  himself,  was 
beautiful  as  Grecian  Phryne  ;  and  Sacco,  who  was  between  her  adorers, 
Harrach  and  Colloredo,  was  bold  and  bewitching  as  Lais. 

The  odor  of  flowers — the  sound  of  distant  music,  everything  that  could 
intoxicate  the  senses,  was  there.  .It  was.  one  of  those  orgies  which 
Kaunitz  alone  knew  how  to  devis6,  and  to  which  all  the  lesser  libertines 
of  Vienna  longed  to  be  initiated,  for  once  admitted  there,  they  were 
graduates  in  the  school  of  vice. 

The  guests  were  excited  beyond  control,  but  not  so  the  Jiost.     He  wha_ 
had  invoked  the  demon  that  possessed  the  rest,  sat  perfectly  collected. 
With  the  coolness  of  a  helmsman  he  steered,  the  flower-laden  bark  of 
voluptuousness  towards  j;he  breakers,  while  he  befooled  its  passengers' 
with  visions  of  fatal  beauty. 

The  feast  was  at  an  end,  and  as  Kaunitz  reviewed  the  faces  of  the  com- 
pany, and  saw  that  for  the  day,  their  passions  were  weary  from  indul- 
gence, he  said  to  himself,  with  diabolical  calmness,  "  Now  that  they  have 
exhausted  every  other  pleasure,  we  will  sharpen  the  blunted  edge  of  de- 
sire with  gambling  !  When  the  life  of  the  heart  is  burnt  to  ashes,  it 
will  still  revive  at  the  chink  of  gold." 

"To  the  gaming-table  friends,  to  the  gaming-table  !'^  cried  he.  And 
the  dull  eyes  grew  bright,  while  the  guests  followed  him  to  the  green- 
covered  table  that  stood  at  the  further  end  of  the  dining-room. 

Kaunitz  took  from  a  casket  a  heap  of  gold,-  while  La  Ferlina  gazed 
npon  it  with  longing  sighs.  Harrach  and  Colloredo  poured  bhowers 
from  their  purses,  and  Sacco  looked  from  one  to  the  other  with  her  most 
irtetTiible  smiles.  ,  Kaunitz  saw  it  all,  and  as  he  threw  the  dice  into  the 
.golden  dice-box  he  muttered,  "  Miserable  worms,  ye  thinic  yours&lves 
gods,  and  are  the  slaves  of  a  little  fiend,  whose  name  is  clold  !" 

As  he  raised  the  dice-box,  the  door  opened,  and  his  first  valet  appeared 
on  the  threshold. 

"Pardon  me,  your  Excellency,  that* I  presume  to  enter^  the  room. 
But  there  is  a  messenger  from  the  Empress,  and  she  begs  your  Exccl- 
lep.cy's  immediate  attendance," 


MAKiA  TJiijtKbA.  ;^y 

With  an  air  of  consummate  indifierence,  Kannitz  replacfd  the  dice  on 
the  table.  "  My  can  iagoi,"  was  his  reply  to  the  valet ;  and  to  his  jiuests, 
Nviih  a  graceful  iiwiiiuition,  he  8uid,  ,"  Do  not  let  this  interrupt  you. 
Count  Harrach  will  be  my  banker.  In  this  casket  are  ttn  thou^nd  ilu- 
rins — I. go  halves  with  the  charming  Ferlina." 

Sigrtora  Ferlina  could  not  contain  herself  for  joy,  and  in  the  exuber- 
ance of  her  gratitude,  she  disturbed  some  of  the  folds  of  Kaunitz's  lace 
ruff!  Kaunitz  was  furious  ;  but,  without  changing  a  muscle,  he  went  on. 
•'Farewell, my  lords — farewell,  ladies  !  1  must  away  to  the  post  of 
duty."  X 

Another  bend  of  the  head,  and  he  disappeared.  The  vnlots  and  hair- 
dresser were  already  buzzing  around  his  dressing-room,  with  court-dress 
and  red-stocking,  but  Kaunitz  waved  them  all  away,  and  called  Ilippo- 
lyte  to  arrange  a  curl  of  his  hair  that  v'as  displaced. 

The  chief  valet  who  had  been  petrified  with  astonishment,  now  came 
to  life,  and  advanced,  holding  in  his  hand  the  rich  court-dress. 

"  Pardon,  your  Hxcellency,  but  my  lord,  the  Count,  is  about  to  have 
an  audience  with  her  imperial  Majesty  1" 

"I  am,"  was  the  curt  reply. 

"Then,  your  Excellency  must  comply  with  the  etiquette  of  the  Em- 
press's^  court,  which  requires  the  full  Spanish  dress,  dagger  and  red 
stockings." 

*'  Must,"  said  Kaunitz  contemptuously.  "  Fool !  From  this  day,  no 
one  shall  say  to  Count  Kaunitz,  '  Must.'  Bear  that  in  mind.  Hand  me 
my  muft'." 

"  Mutr,  my  lord  ?"  echoed  the  valet. 

"Yes,  fool,  my  hands  are-cold," 

The  valet  looked  out  of  the  window,  where  flamed  the  radiance  of  a 
June  sun,  and  with  a  deep  sigh  for  the  waywardness  of  his  master,  han- 
ded the  muff. 

Kaunitz  thrust  in  his  hands,  and  slowly  left  the  room,  followed  by  the 
dog,  the  valets  and  the  hair-dresser.  Every  time  his  Excellency  went 
out,  this  procession  came  after  as  far  as  the  carriage-door,  to  see  that  no- 
thing remaine(J*imperfect  in  his  toilet.  With  the  mulfhcld  close  to  his 
mouth,  for  foar  a  breath  of  air  should  enter  it,  Kaunitz  passed  through 
the  lofty  corVidors  of  his  house  to  his  state-carriage.  The  dog  wished  to 
get  in,  but  he  waved  her  gently  back,  saying 

"  No,  Phoedra,  not  to-day.     I  dare  not  take  you  there." 

The  carriage  rolled  ofl'and  the  servants  looked  after  in  dumb  conster- 
natiou.     At  last  the  first  valet,  with  a  malicious  smile,  said  to  the  others, 

"  I  stick  to  my  opinion— 'he  is  crazy.  Who  but  a  madman  would 
hope  to  be  admitted  to  her  imperial  Majesty's  presence  without  red 
stockings  and  a  dagger  !" 

E[ippolyte  shook  his  head.  "  No,  no,  he  is  no  madman  ;  he  is  only  a 
singular  genius,  who  knows  the  world,  and  snaps  his  fmgers  at  it." 

The  valet  was  not  far  from  right.  The  simple  dress  white  stockinga, 
and  the  absence  of  the  dagger,  raised  a  coi^imotion  in  the  palace. 


.4^)  JOSEi'tl  THE  SECOND. 

The  pnge  in  the  entrance-hall  v?as  afiaid  to  announce  the  Count,  and 
he  rushed  into  ihe  ante-room  to  consult  the  marshal  of  the  iu:)perial 
koisehold.  The  latter,  with  his  sweetest  smile,  hastened  to  meet  the 
indignant  Count. 

"  Have  the  goodness,  my  lord,"  said  Kaunitz  imperiously,  "not  to' 
detain  me  any  longer.  The  Empress  has  called  me  to  her  presence ;  say 
tkat  I  am  here." 

"  But,  Count,"  cried  the  horror-stricken  Marshal,  "you  cannot  serious- 
ly mean  to  present  yourself  iu  such  a  garb.  Doubtless,  you  have  for- 
gotten, from  absence  of  mind,  to  array  yourself  as  court-etiquette  exacts 
of  her  Majesty's  servants.  If  you  will  do  me  the  tavor  to  accompany 
me  to  my  ovp'n  apartments,  I  will  with  great  pleasure  supply  the  red 
stockings  and  dagger." 

Count  Kaunitz  shrugged  Ip's-  shoulders  disdainfully.  "  Her  Majesty 
sent  for  me,  not  for  my  red  stockings  ;  therefore,  please  to  announce  me." 

The  Marshal  retreated  in  his  surprise,  several  steps.  "  Never,"  cried 
he  indignantly,  "never  would  I  presume  to  do  so  unheard  of  a  thing  ! 
Such  a  transgression  of  her  Majesty's  orders  is  inadmissible." 

"  Very  well,"  replied  Kaunitz  coolly,  "I  shall  then  have  the  pleasure 
of  announcing  myself." 

He  passed  by  the  Marshal  and  dismayed  page,  and  was  advancing  to 
the  door  that  led  to  the  imperial  apartments. 

"  Hold  !  hold  !"  groaned  the  Marshal,  whose  consternation  was  how 
at  its  height.  "  That  were  too  pi^suming  !  Since  her  Majesty  has  com- 
manded  your  attendance,  I  will  do  my  duty.  I  leave  it  to  yourself,  my 
lord,  to  excuse  your  owr^  boldness,  if  you  can  carry  it  so  far  as  to  attempt 
a  justification  of  your  conduct. 

He  bowed,  and  passed  into  the  next  room  ;  thence  into  the  cabinet  of 
the  Empress,  whence  he  returned  with  word  for  Count  Kaunitz  to  enter. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

NEW  AUSTRIA. 

The  Empress  received  the  Count  with  a  most  gracious  sraile.  "You 
are  late,"  she  said,  reaching  out  her  hand  for  him  to  kiss. 

"  I  came  very  near  not  reaching  your  Majesty's  presence  at  all,  for 
those  two  wiseacres  in  the  ante-room  refused  me  entrance,  because  I  had 
neither  red  stockings  nor  a  dagger." 

The  Empress  then  perceived  the  omission,  and  she  frowned.  "Why 
did  you  present  yourself  here,  witliout  them'?"  asked  she. 


MARIA  THEHESA.  4 1 

"  Because,  yoiii^Injesty,  I  detest  red  stockings  ;  and  I  re.illy  cannot 
see  why  I  should  be  compelled  to  wear  anything  that  is  so  distasteful  to 
me." 

Maria  Theresa  was  so  surprised,  that  she  scarcely  know  what  reply  to 
make  to  the  argument ;  so  Kaunitz  continued  : 

"And  as  for  the  dagger,  that  is  no  emblem  of  my  craft.  I  am  not  aP 
soldier,  but  a  statesman  ;  my  implement  is  the  crow-quill^*' 

"And  the  tongue,"'  replied  the  Empress,  "  for  you  certainly  know  how 
to  use  it.  Let  us  dismiss  the  dagger  and  red  stockings  then,  and  speak 
of  your  pen  and  your  tongue,  for  I  need  thenil'both.  I  have  well-weigh- 
ed the  matters  under  consideration,  and  have  taken  counsel  of  Heaven 
und  of  my  own  conscience.     I  hope  that  my  decision  will  be  for  the  best." 

Count  Kaunitz,  courtier  though  he  was,  could  not  repress  a  slight 
shiver,  nor  could  he  master  the  paleness  that  overspread  his  anxious  face. 

The  Empress  went  on:  "I- have  irrevocably  decided.  I  abide  b}"- 
what  1  said  in  council.  A  new  day  shall  dawn  upon  Austria-r-God  grant 
that  it  prove  a  happy  one!  Away  then  with  the  old  alliance;  we  offer 
our  hand  to  France,  and  you  shall  conduct  the  negotiations.  I  appoint 
you  Lord-High-Chancellor  in  the  place  of  Count  Ijhlfeld.  And  you  owe 
me  some  thanks,  for  I  assure  you  that  to  carry  out  my  opposition  to  my 
Ministers,  I  have  striven  with  countless,  difficulties." 

"I  thank  your  Majesty  for  resolving  upon  an  alliance  with  France," 
said  Kaunitz  earnestly,  "for  I  do  believe  that  it  will  conduce  to  Aus- 
tria's welfare." 

"And  do  you  not  thank  me  for  making  you  Prime  Minister?  Or  is 
the  appointment  unwelcome  ?" 

"  I  shall  be  the  happiest  of  mortals  if  I  can  accept ;  but  that  question 
is  for  your  Majesty  to  decide." 

The  Empress  colored,  and  looked  displeased,  while  Kaunitz  "  hihiself 
again  "  stood  composed  and  collected  before  her.  * 

"  Ah,"  said  she  quickly,  "  you  wish  me  to  beg  you  to  accept  the  high- 
est office  in  Austria  !  Do  you  think  it  a  favor  you  do  me  to  become 
my  Prime  Minister,  Kaunitz "?" 

"  Your  Majesty,"  replied  Kaunitz  in  his  soft,  calm  tones,  "  I  think  not 
of  myself,  but  of  Austria  that  I  love,  and  of  you,  my  honored  Empress, 
whom  I  would  die  to  serve.  But  I  must  know  whether  it  will  be  allow- 
ed mo  to  serve  my  Empress  and  my  fatherland  as  I  can  and  will  serve 
them  both." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?     Explain  yourself." 

"  If  I  am  to  labor  in  your  behalf,  my  Empress,  I  must  hfive  free  hands, 
without  colleagues  by  my  side,  to  discuss  my  plans,  and  plot  against 
them."   ' 

— "Ah !"  said  the  Empress  smiling,  "  I  understand.  You  mean  Bar- 
tenstein,  and  Counts  Harrach  and  CoUoredo.  True — they  are  your  ri- 
vals." 1 

— "  Oh,  your  Majesty,  not  my  rivals  I  hope." 

"  Well,  then,  your  enemies,  if  you  like  that  better,'"  said  the  Empress, 


42  JOSEPUTIIE  SECOND 

"  I  shall  not  ehain'you  together  then.  1  Aviiriind  ofher  places  where- 
with to  compensate  them  for  their  past  fcervioes,  and  you- may  find  other 
colleagues."  ■  ■         '    '  , 

'•I  desire  no  colleagues,  your  Majesty,""  replied  Kaunitz,  "I  wif^h  to  be 
prime  afid  only  Minister.  Then  together  we  will  wield  Austria''s  many 
tlependencies  into  one  great  empire,  and  unite  its  governments  under 
one  head."  '  , • 

"  Yours,  Count  ?"  asked  Maria  Theresa  ironically. 

— "  Yours,  my  Sovereign !     Whatever  you  may  think,  up  to  this  mo- 
ment you  have  not  reigned  supreme  in   Austria,     By  your  side,  have 
Bartenstein  and  Uhlfeid  reigned  like  lesser  Emperors.     Is  not  Lombardy 
governed  by  its  own  princes,  and  does  not  the  Viceroy  of  Hungary  make 
■  laws  and  edicts,  which  every  day  are  brought  to  you  for  signature"?'' 

— "  Yes,  i  am  truly  hemmed  in  on  every  side.  But  I  see  no  remedy 
for  the  evil — I  cannot  govern  every  where.  Hungary  and  Lombardy 
have  their  own  constitutions  and  must  have  their  own  separate  govern- 
ments." 

"So  long  as  that  state  of  things  lasts,  neither  Hungary  nor  Lombar- 
dy v{\\\  be  portions  of  the  Austrian  empire,"  said  Kaunitz.* 

"  There  is  no  remedy,  Kaunitz,"  returned  Maria  Theresa  ;   "  I  have 
thought  these  difficulties  over  and  over.     My  arm  is  too  short  to  reach 
\to  the  furthest  ends  of  my  realms,  and  I  must  be  content  to  delegate 
some  of  my  power.     One  hand  cannot  navigate  the  ship  of  state." 

— "  But  one  head  can  steer  it,  your  Majesty,  and  one  head  can  direct 
the  hands  that  work  it." 

— "  And  will  the  Coant  be  one  of  my  hands'?" 

— "  Yes  indeed,  your  Majesty.  But  the  fingers  must  be  subject  to 
this  hand,  and  the  hand  will  then  carry  out,  in  all  security,  the  plans  of 
Hs  august  head,  the  Empress." 

"  You  mean  to  say  that  you  wish  to  be  alone  as  my  Minister." 

j  "  {f  I  am  truly  to  serve  your  Majesty,  it  must  be  so.     Let  not  the 

sovereignty  of  Austria  be  frittered  away  in   multitudinous   rivulets  ; 

gather  it  all  in  one  full,  fertilizing  stream.     One  head  ami  one  hand  over 

Austria's  destiny,  and  then  will  she  grow  independent,  and  all-powerful." 

"  But,  man,"  cried  the  Empress,  "  you  cannot  sustain  the  burthen  you 
covec!" 

"  1  will  have  ample  help,  your  Majesty.  I  will  seek  ready  hands  and  . 
willing  hearts  tnat  believe  in  nie,  and  will  do  my  behests.  These  must 
not  be  my  coadjutors  but  my  subalterns,  who  think  through  7ne,an4 
'v/os'k  for  me.  If  your  Majesty  will  grant  me  this  privilege,,  then  I  can 
serve  Austria.  I  know  that  I  am  asking  for  high  prerogatives ;  but  for  x\ns- 
tria's  sake,  Maria  Theresa  will  dare  everything;  and  together  we  will 
'accomplish  the  consolidation  ofher  ^disjecta  membra'  into  one  great 
empire.  The  policy  which  conducts  our  financial  affairs  must  emanate 
from  yourself,  and  our  foreign  policy  must  be  bold  and  frank,  that  friends 
ivnd  foes  may  both  know. what  we  mean.  We  must  coffin  and  bury  old. 
Austria  vflth  the  dead  that.slfeep  on  the  battle  grounds  of  lost  Silesia; 


MAlilA  IHKKESA.  43 

and  fioTii  her  ashes  wo  must  build  a  new  empire  of  which  Hungary  and 
Lombardy  shall  be  integral  parts.  Hand  in  hand  with  France,  we  will 
be  the  law-givers  of  all  Europe;  and  when,  thanks  to  4ur  thrift  and  iho 
rich  tribute  of  cur  provinces,  we  pay  our  national  debt,  tlieu  we  may 
hiugh  ac  English  subsidies  and  Dutch  commerce.  And  lastly,  we  will 
cast  our  eyes  once  more  upon  Silesia,  and  inethinks  if  France  and  Aus- 
tria together  should  demand  restitution  of  King  Frederic,  he  will  scarce- 
ly be  so  rash  as  to  snj- — nay.  The  ministers  of  Louis  XV.  who  were 
adverse  to  our  alliance  are  about  to  retire,  and  the  Duke  of  Choiseul, 
our  firm  friend  and  the  favorite  of  Mme.  de  Pompadour,  will  replace 
Kichelieui  Choiseul  seeks  our  fiientlship  and  the  flav  of  <>ur  triumph  is 
dawning.  Such,  your  Majesty,  are  my  dreams  for  Austria;  it  rests 
with  you  to  make  them  realities !" 

The  Empress  had  listened  with  incraasing  interest  to  every  word  that 
Kaunitz  had  spoken.  She  had  risen  from  her  seat,  and  was  pacing  the 
room  in  a  state  of  high  excitement.  As  he  ceased,  she  stopped  in  front 
of  him,  and  her  large,  sparkling  orbs  of  blue,  glowed  with  an  expression 
of  happiness  and  hope. 

"1  believe  that  you  are  the  man  for  Austria,"  said  she.  "I  believe 
that  together  we  can  carry  out  our  plans  and  projects.  God  grant  that 
they  be  righteous  and  just  in  His  sight!  You  have  read  my  heart,  and 
you  know  that  I  can  never  reconcile  myself  to  the  loss  of  Silesia.  You 
know  that  between  me  and  Frederic  no  harmony  con  ever  exist ;  no 
treaty  can  ever  be  signed  to  which  he  is  a  party.*  I  will  take  the  hand 
of  France,  not  so  much  for  love  of  herself  as  for  her  enmity  to  Prussia. 
Will  you  work  with  me  to  make  war  on  Frederic  if  I  appoint  yon  grde 
^Minister,  Kaunitz  !  For  I  tell  you  that  I  burn  to  renew  roy  Sirife  with 
the  King  of  Prussia,  and  I  would  rather  give  him  'battlfc  to-day  than  to- 
morrow.f 

"  I  comprehend  your  Majesty's  feelings,  and  fully  share  them.  As  soon 
as  France  and  ourselves  uuderstanQ  one  another,  we  will  make  a  league 
against  Frederic,  and  may  easily  make  him  strike  the  (irst  blow,  fur 
«ven  now,  he  is  longing  to  appropriate  another  Silesia."  ^ 

''  Aijid  I  am  longing  to  cross  swords  with  him  for  the  Cne  he  lias  stdren 
from  me.  I  cannot  bear  to  think  of  going  to  my  fathers,  with  a  dimin- 
ished inherit;ance  ;  I  cannot  brook  the  thorght  that  my  woinan's  hands 
have  not  been  strong  enough  to  preserve  my  rights,  for  1  feel  that  if  1 
have  the  heart  of  a  woman,  I  have  the  head  of  a  man.  To  see  Austrta 
great  and  powerful,  to  see  her  men  noble  and  her  women  virtuous,  that 
is  my  dream,  my  hope,  my  aim  in  life!  You  are  the  one  to  perfect 
what  I  have  conceived,  Kaunitz ;  will  you  give  me  your  hand  to  this 
great  work?"  V 

— "  1  will,  your  Majesty,  so  help  me  God." 

— "  Will  you  hav^  Austria's  good  alone  in  view,  ii>all  that  you  coun- 
sel as  my  Minister'?"  / 

.  f — ■ . « ' ;   •  ■ 

•  Maria  ThercFa's  own  word?. 

t  Maria  Theresa's  words.     Coxe.  * 


44      ■  .H)?^Bi»H  THE  SECOND.      , 

— "  1  will,  so  help  me  God  !" 

"  Will  you  take  counsel  with  me  hvAV  we  rary  justly  and  righteously 
govern  Austria,  without  prejudice,  without  self-love,  without  thought  of 
worldly  fame,  not  from  love  or  fear  of  man,  but  for  the  sake  of  God 
from  whose  hands  we  hojd  oiir  empire,*?" 

T— "  1  will,  so  help  me  God." 

"  Then,"  said  Maria  Therej:a  after  a  pause,  "  you  are  my  sole  Minis- 
ter,'and  I  empower  you  to  preside  over  the  affiiifs  of  state,  in  the  man- 
ner you  may  judge  fittest  for  the  welfare  ofthe  Austrian  people." 

Kaunitz  was  as  self  possessed  a  worldling,  as  ever  sought  to  hide  his - 
emotions  ;  but  he  could  not  suppress  an  exclamation  of  rapture,  nor  an 
expression  of  triumph  that  lit  up  his  face,  as  nothing  had  ever  illumined 
it  before.-' 

"Your  Majesty,"  said  he,  whep  he  found  words,  "I  accept  the  trust, 
and  as  there  is  a  God  above  to  judge  me,  I  will  hold  it  faithfully.  My 
days  and  nights,  my  youth  and  age,  with  their  thoughts,  their  will,  their 
every  fiicuUy,  shall  be  laid  upon  the  shrine  of  Austria's  greatness,  and 
if  fur  one  moment  I  ever  sacrifice  your  Majesty  to  any  interest  of  mine, 
may  I  die  a  death  of  torture  and  disgrace!" 

■  — "  I  believe  you  ;  your  countenance  reflects  your  heart,  and  Almighty 
God  has  heard  your  words.  One  thing  remember — that  Marja  Theresa 
suffers  no  Minister  to  dictate  to  her.  She  is  the  reigning  Sovereign  of 
her  people,  and  will  not  suffer  a  finger  to  be  laid  upon  her  imperial 
rights.  Were  he  a  thousand  times  Prime  Minister,  the  man  that  pre- 
sumed too  far  with  me,  I  would  hurl  from  his  eminence  to  the  lowest 
depths  of  (disgrace.  And  how  that  we  understand  one  another,  we  will 
clasp  hands  like  men,  who  are  pledged  before  God  to  do  their  duty." 

She  extended  her  hand  to  Kaunitz,  who  grasped  it  in  his  own.  "  I 
swear,"  said  he  solemnly,  "  to  do  my  duty,  and  never  can  I  forget  this 
hour!  I  swear  to  my  Sovereig 71,  Maria  Theresa,  loyalty  unto  death; 
and  before  my  Empress,  I  bow  my  knfee,  and  so  do  homage  to  the  great- 
est woman  of  her  age." 

"The  Empress  smiled,  while  Kaunitz  knelt,  and  kissed  her  fair  and 
jeN^lled  hand."  "^ay-God  grant  that  you  speak  truth,  Kaunitz,  and 
may  my  posterity  not  have' to  blush  for  me.  'Everything  for  Austria,' 
shall  be  your  motto  and  mine ;  and  this  flaming  device  shall  light  us  on  ' 
our  way  through  life.  Now  go.  Lord  High  Chancellor,  and  see  that  the 
world  finds  a  phcenix  in  the  ashes  of  the  old  regime  which  to-day  we  have 
consigned  to  the  dust  !"* 

*  From  this  time,  Kaunitz  wasiiole  Minister  of  the  Empress;  and  he  kiept  hii  promise  to  Binder, 
who  became  State-Referendarius  iu  the  place  of  the  once  powerful  Bartenstein, 


15ABELL.V.  45 


ISABELLA. 

■  »  . 

CHAPTER  X. 

THE  YOUXO   SOLDIER. 

Kaunitz's  prophcpy  ha*!  been  fulfilled.  No  sooner  was  it  known  that 
Austria  and  France  were  allies,  than  Frederic  of  Prussia,  with  all  haste, 
made  treaties  with  England.  These  opposite  alliances  were  the  signal 
for  war.  For  seven  years,  this  war  held  its  blood-stained  lash  over  Aus- 
tria, and  every  nation  in  Europe,  suffered  more  or  less  from  its  effects, 
^laria  Theresa  began  it  wilh  sharp  words,  to  which  Frederic  had  ret^on- 
ded  wilh  his  sharper  sword. 

The  King,  through  his  Ambassador,  asked  the  meaning  of  her  extensive 
military  preparations  throughout  Aiistria,  to  which  the  PZmpress,  nettled 
by  the  arrogance  of  the  demand,  had  replied  that  she  believed  she  had  a 
right  to  mass  troops  for  the  protectic>n  of  herself  and  her  allies,  without 
rendering  account  of  her  acts  to  foreign  kings.  Upon  the  receipt  of  this 
reply,  Frederic  marcl  ed  his  trOops  into  Saxony,  and  so  began  the 
"seven  years'  war;"  a  war  that  was  prosecuted  on  both  sides  with  bitter 
vindictiveness. 

Throughout  Austria  the  wildest  enthusiasm  prevailed.  Rich  and  poor, 
young  and  old,  all  rushed  to  the  fight..  The  warlike  spirit  that  pervaded 
iier  people  made  its  way  to  the  heart  of  the  Empress's  eldest  son.  The 
Archduke  Joseph  had  for  some  time  been  entreating  his  mother  to  ab 
low  him  to  join  the  army;  and  at  last,  thougli  much  against  her  will,  she 
had  yielded  to  his  urgent  desire.  On  the  day  when  the  ngws  of  a  vic- 
tory, near  Kunersdorf,  over  Frederic,  reached  the  palace,  the  Empress  . 
had  given  her  consent,  and  her  son  was  to  be  allowed  to  go  in  search  of 
laurel  wreaths  wherewith  to  deck  his  imperial  brow. 

This  permission  to  enter  the  army  was  the  first  great  joy  of  Joseph's 
life.  His  heart,  at  last  freed  from  its  weight  of  conventional  duties,  and 
forced  submission  to  the.  requirements  of  Court  etiquette,  soared  high 
into  regions  of  exultant  happiness.  His  countenance  once  so  cold  and 
impassible,  was  now  full  of  joyous  changes;  his  eyes,  once  so  dull  and 
weary,  glowed  with  the  fir©  of  awakened  enthusiasm,  and  they  looked  so 
brilliant  a  blue,  that  it  seemed  as  if  some  little  ray  from  Ileaven  had 
found  its  way  into  their  clear,  bright  depths.  The  poor  boy  was  an  al- 
tered creature.  He  was  frolicksome  with  his  friends;  and  as  for  those 
whom  he  considered  his  enemies,  he  cared  nothing  for  their  likes  or  dis- 
likes   He  had  nothing  to  lose  or  gain  from  them  ;  ho  was  to  leave  the 


46  *         JOSEPH  THE  SECOND. 

Court,  leave  Vienna,  leave  every  troublesome  remenibrance  behind,  and 
go  far  from  all  tormentors  to  the  Array ! 

The  preparations  were  at  an  end;  the  Archduke  had  taken  f^vmal 
leave  of  his  mother's  Court;  this  evening  he  was  to  spend  in  the  impe- 
rial family  circle ;  and  early  on  the  iic^it  morning  his  journey  would, be- 
gin He  had  just  written  a  last  note  of  farewell  to  a  friend.  Alone  in 
his  room,  he  stood  before  a  mirror,  contemplating  with  a  smile  his  own 
image.  He  was  not  looking  at  his  own  handsome  face,  though  happi-* 
ness  was  lending  it  exqui.site  beauty;  the  object  of  his  rapturous  admi- 
ration was  the  white  uniform  which,  for  the  first  time,  he'wore  in  place 
ofhis  Courc  dress.  He  was  no  longer  the  descendant  of  Charles  the 
Pifth,  no  longer  the  son  of  the  Empress,  he  was  a  Soldierl  A  freej  self- 
sustaining  man,  whose  destiny  lay  in  his  own  hands,  and  whose  future 
deeds  would  prove  him  worthy  to  be  the  son  ofhis  great  ancestor. 

As,  almost  intoxicated  with  excess' of  joy,  he  stood  before  the  glass,  the 
dCTor  opened  gently,  fjnd  a  youth  of  about  his  own  age,  entered'the  room. 

"PartJon  me,  your  Highness,  said  the  youth,  bowing,  if  I  enter  with-  ' 
out-permission.     Doubtless  your  Highness  did  not  hear  me  knock,  and 
I  found  no  one  i]i  your  ante-room  to  announce  me." 

The  Prince  turned  around  and  reached  out  his  hand,  saying,  with  a 
laugh,  No  !  no !  you  fo'und  nobody.  |  have  discharged  old  dame  Eti- 
quette from  my  service,  and  you  see  before  you,  not  nis  imperial  high- 
ness, the  Archduke  Joseph,  crown-prince  of  Austria,  but  a  young  soldier 
brimful  of  happiness,  master  of  nothing  but  his  own  s\^ord,  with  which 
he  means  ta  carve  out  his  fortunes  on  the  battle-field.  Oh !  Dominick  ! 
1  have  dropped  the  rosar}',  and  taken  up  the  sabre,  and  I  mean  to  twist 
such  a  forest  pf  laurels  about  my  head,,  that  it  will  be  impossible  for  me 
ever  to  wear  a  night-cap  again,  were  it  even  sent  me  as  a  present  from 
the  Pope  himself." 

"Do  not  talk  so  loud,  your  Plighness,  you  will  frighten  the  Proprie- 
ties out  of  their  wits." 

Joseph  laughed.  "Dominick  Kaunitz,"  said  he,  "you  are  the  son  of 
your  respected  lather,  no  doubt  of  it ;  for  you  behave  prettily  before  the 
bare  walls  themselves,  for  fear  they  might  tell  of  your  indiscretions*. 
But  fear  not,  son  of  the  mighty  Prime  Minister,  my  walls  are  dumb, 
and  nobody  is  near  to  tell  tales.  We  are  alone,  for  I  have  dismissed  all 
my  attendants;  and  here  I  may  give  loud  vent  to  my  hallelujahs,  which 
I  now  proceed  to  do  by  singing  you  a  song  which  I  learned  not  long  ago, 
from  an  invalided  soldier  in  the  street." 

And  the  Prince  b^gan  in  a  sonorous  ba^s  voice  to  sing : 

O  the  young  oannon  is  my  bride; 
Her  orange  wreath  is  twined  with  bay, 
And  on  the  blood-red  battle  field 
"We'll  celebrate  our  wedding-day. 

Traral  Trar;;"  ' 

No  pi'iest  is  there 

To  bless  the  rites, 
No ^ 


ISABELLA.  47 

Here  young  Kaunitz,  all  eliquette  despising,  pnt  his  hands  before  the 
month  of  the  Prince,  and  while  tht5»],itter  strove,  in  spite  of  him,  \o  go 
oil  with  his  song,  he  said  in  low,  but  anxious  tones, 

"  For  iieaven's  sake,  your  Highness,  listen  to  me.  You  plunge  your- 
self wantonly  into  danger.  Do  you  suppose  that  your  powerful,  voice 
does  not  resound  through  the  corridors  of  (he  palace  V 

"Well,  if  it  is  heard,  Doininick,  what  of  it?  I  bid  farewell  to  my 
enemies,  and  this  is  my  '  Ilosanna.'  You  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yOup- 
selfto  stop  me.  My  tormentors  you  think  have  heard  the  beginnin^r  of 
my  song;  well — the  devil  take  it,  but  they  shall  have  the  end-!" 

Once  more  the  Archduke  begun  to  sfng ;  but  Dominick  caught  his 
arm.  "Do- you  wish"  said  he,  "to  have  the  Empress  revoke  hot  per- 
mission?" 

The  Archduke  laughed.  "  Why,  Dominick,  you  are  crazed  with  grief 
for  my  loss,  I  do  believe;  the  Empress  revoke  her  imperial  word,  now, 
when  all  my  preparations  are  made,  and  I  go  to-morrow  !"  '        ■ 

"Empresses  do  revoke  their  words,  and  preparations  are  often  made, 
to  be  followed  by — nothing,"  replied  Dominick. 

The  Prmce  looked  in  consternation  at  his  young  friend.  ^^  ^re  you 
in  earnest,  dear  Dominick  ?"  asked  he.  "  Do  you  indeed  thirtJc  it  pos- 
sible that  1  could  bo  hindered  from  going  to  the  army,  on  the  very  eve 
of  my  departure  1" 

— "  I  do,  your  Highness." 

The  Archduke  grew  pale,  and  in  a  tremulous  voice  said,  "  upon  what 
do  you  found  your  supposition,  my  friend  V 

"  O,  my  dear  Lord)  replied  Dominick,  "  it  is  no  supposition,  I  fear  it 
is  a  fact;  and  1  fear,  too,  that  it  is  your  own  fault,  if  this  disappoint- 
ment awaits  you." 

'•  Good  Heavens  !"  exclaimed  the  Prince  in  tones  of  anguish,  "whati 
can  I  have  done  to  deserve  such  fearful  chastisement?" 

"Yon  have  displeased  the  Empress  by  neglect  of  your  relfgious -du- 
ties. For  more  thantwo  weeks,  you  h.nve  not  entered  a  place  of  wor- 
ship; and  yesterday  when  the  Countess  Fuchs  remonstrated  with  your 
Highness,  you  replied  with  an  unseemly  jest.  You  said,  '  dearest  Count- 
ess, 1  hope  to  prove  to  yon  that  although  I  neglect  my  Mass,  I  can  be 
pious  on  the  battle-field.  There  on  the  altar  of  my  country  I  mo/m  to 
sacrifice  countless  enemies,  and  that  will  be. an  offering  quite  as  pleasing 
in  the  sight  of  God.'     Were  those  not  your  words,  Prince  ?" 

"Yes,  yes,  they  were — but  I  meant  no  impiety.  My  heart  was  so 
full  of  joy  that  it  effervesced  in  wild  words,  but  surely  my  mother  can- 
not niean,  for  such  a  harmless  jest,  to  dash  iv>y  every  hope  to  the  cnrth!"^ 

— "  Oh,  your  Highness,  this  is  only  one  offence  out  of  many  of  which 
you  are  a^ccused.  I  have  no  time  to  repeat  them  now,  for  my  errand 
here  is  important  and  pressing." 

"  Where  learned  you  all  thisl"  asked  the  poor  Archduke, 

— "  Bend  down  your  ear,  and  I  will  tell  yoir.  My  father  told  me 
every  word  of  it," 


4S  JOSM^H  THE  SECOND. 

—"  The  Lord  High  ChanceHor !     Impossible  !" 

— "  Yes,  it  would  seem  impossible  that  he  should  repeat  anything^ 
and  therefore  you  may  know  how  seriously  the  matter  affects  your 
Highness  when  I  tell  you  that  he  sent  me  to  warn  you." 

A  quick,  loud  knock  at  the  door,  interrupted  him,  and  before  the 
Archduke  could  say,  "  come  in,"  the  Emperor  Francis  was  in  the  room. 
His  face  looked  care-worn,  and  he  cast  a  glance  of  tender  compassion 
upon  his  son. 

"  My  child,"  said  he,  "  I  come  to  speak  with  you  in  private,  a  thing 
I  cannot  compass  in  my  own  apartments." 

Dominick  bowed  to  take  leave,  but  the  Emperor  withheld  him. 
"  Stay,"  said  he,  "for  you  may  serve  us,  i)ominick.  I  know  you  to  be 
Joseph's  best  friend,  and  you  will  not  betray  him.  But  I  have  no  time 
for  words.  Tell  me  quickly,  Joseph,  is  there  any  secret  outlet  tothese 
apartments'?  Do  you  know  of  any  hidden  stair-way  by  which  you  could 
escape  from  the  palace?" 

"  I,  father,  I  have  secret  doors  in  ray  apartments  !  Is  this  some  new 
device  of  my  enemies  to  injure  me  in  the  eyes  of  jthe  Empress?" 

"  Hush,  hush,  Joseph.  How  like  he  is  in  temperament  to  his  moth- 
er! Answer  me  at  once;  there  is  no  question  of  enemies,  but  of  your- 
self." 

"  What  would  you  have  me  do  with  secret  doors  and  stairways'?" 
asked  Joseph. 

The  Emperor  came  close  to  his  son,  and  in  low,  cautious  tones,  whis- 
pered, "I  would  have  you  this  very  hour  leave  the  palace  privately, 
mount  your  horse,  and  spee(i  away  from  Vienna."  ' 

■     "  Fly,  my  dear  father,"  cried  Joseph.     "  Has  it  come  to  this,  that  tho 
son  must  fly  from  the  face  of  his  own  mother!     Am  I  a  crimirtal,  who 
must  not  be  told  of  what  crime  I  am  accused  !     No,   your.  Majesty  ;  if* 
death   or  imprisonment  for  life   were  here  to  threaten  me,   I  would 
not  fly."   • 

"  Nor  would  I  counsel  flight,  my  son,  were  you  accused  ei-wrong. 
But  this  is  not  a  question  of  crime  ;  of  prisoned  beaker,  or  of  castle-dun- 
geon— it  is  simply  this.  Do  you  wish  to  join  the  army^  or  are  you 
ready  to  give  up  your  commission  and  stay  at  home  ?" 

"  b|i,  my  father,"  cried  Joseph,  "you  well  know  that  I  have  but  one 
desire  on  earth — and  that  is,  to  go." 

"  Then,  hear  me.  It  has  been  represented  to  the  Empress  that  your 
lust  for  war'  has  made  you  so  reckless,  so  blood-thirsty,  and  so  impious, 
that  camp-life  will  prove  your  ruin.  In  her  excess  of  maternal  love,  she 
has  taken  the  alarm,  and  has  resolved  to  shield  you  from  danger,  by 
withdrawing  her  consent  to  your  departure." 

The  Archduke's  eyes  filled  with  tears.  The  Emperor  laid  his  hand 
sympathizingly  upon  his  shoulder. 

'■  Do  not  despair,  dear  child,"  said  he  tenderly,  "perhaps  all  is  not  . 
lost,  and  I  may  be  able  to  assist  you.  I  can  comprehend  the  nature  of  • 
your  sorro\y^  for.  I  have  suffered  tho  same  bitter  disappointment.    If  in- 


ISABELLA.  49 

stead  of  leading  a  useless  life,  a  mere  appanage  of  the  Empress,  I  had 
been  permitted   to   follow   the    dictates  of  my   heart,  and  command 

her  armies,  I  might  have but  why  speak  of  my  waning^  career?    You 

are  young,  and  I  do  not  wish  to  see  your  life  darkened  by  such  early 
disappointment.  Therefore  list«i  to  me.  You  know  nothing  of  the 
change  in  your  prospects  ;  you  have  as  yet  received  no  orders  to  remain. 
Write  to  your  mother,  that  preferring  to  go  without  the  grief  of  taking 
leave,  you  have  presumed  to  start  to-night  without  her  knowledge,  ho- 
ping soon  to  embrace  her  again,  and  lay  your  first-earned  laurels  at  her 
feet." 

The  Archduke  hastened  to  obey  his  father,  and  Fat  down  to  write. 
The  Emperor,  meanwhile,  signed  to  young  Kaunitz,  who  had  kept  him- 
self respectfully  aloof. 

"  Have  you  a  courser,"  asked  he,  "  to  sell  to  Joseph,  and  two  good 
servants  that  can  accompany  him  until  his  own  attendants  can  be  sent 
after  him  ?"  •  '  ^ 

"  I  came  hither,  your  Majesty,  prepared  to  make  the  same  proposi- 
tion, with  the  fleetest  horse  in  my  father's  stables,  and  two  trusty  ser- 
vants, well-mounted,  all  of  which  await  his  Highness  at  the  postern  gate." 

— "  Your  father's  best  horse  ?     Then  he  knows  of  this  aflair  ?" 

— *|  It  was  he,  who  sent  me  to  the  Archduke's  assistance.  He  told 
me,  in  case  of  necessity,  to  propose  flight,  and  to  be  ready  for  itP 

"The  letter  is  ready,"  said  the  Archduke,  coming  forward. 

"  I  myself  will  hand  it  to  the  Empress,"  said  his  fother,  taking  it,  "and 
I  will  tell  her,  that  I  counselled  to  you  to  go  as  you  did." 

— "But,  dear  father,  the  Empress  will  be  angry." 

"  Well,  my  son,"  said  the  Emperor,  with  a  peculiar  smile,  "  I  have 
survived  So  many  little  passing  storms,  that  I  will  doubtless  survive  this 
one.  The  Empress  has  the  best  and  noblest  heart  in  the  world,  and  its 
sunshine  is  always  brightest  after  a  storm.  Go  then,  my  child,  I  will 
answer  for  your  sin  and  mine.  The  Empress  had  said  nothing  to  me  of 
her  change  of  purpose;  she  looks  upon  it  as  a  state  affair,  and  with  her 
state  affairs  I  am  never  made  acquainted.  Since  accident  has  betrayed 
it  to  me,  I  have  a  right  to  use  my  knowledge  in  your  behalf,  and  I  un- 
dertake to  appease  your  mother.  Here  is  a  purse  with  two  thousand 
louis  d'ors ;  it  is  enough  for  a  few  days  of  Incognito.  Throw  your  mili- 
tilry  cloak  about  you,  and  away  !" 

Young  Kaunitz  laid  the  cloak  upon  the  shoulders  of  the  Archduke 
^hose  eyes  beamed  forth  the  gratitude  that  filled  his  heart. 

"  Oh  my  father  and  my  sovereign,"  said  he  in  a  voice  thSt  trembled 
with  emotion.  "My  whole  life  will  not  be  long  enough  to  thank  you 
for  what  you  are  doing  for  me  in  this  critical  Hour.  Till  now  I  have 
loved  you  indeed  as  my  father,  but  henceforth  I  must  look  upon  you  as 
my  benefactor  also,  as  my  dearest  and  best  friend.  My  heart  and  my 
soul  are  yours,  dear  father ;  may  I  be  worthy  of  your  love  and'of  the 
sacrifice  you  are  making  for  me  to-day." 

The  Emperor  folded  his  son  to  his  heart,  and  kissed  his  fair  forehead. 


50       ,  JOSEPH  THE  SECOND 

"Farewell,  dear  boy,"  whispered  he,  "return  to  me  a  victor  aad  a  hero. 
May  you  earn  for  your  father  on  the  battle-field  all  the  laurels  which  he. 
has  seen  in  dreams  only  !     God  bless  you  !" 

They  then  left  the  room,  Cotint  Kaunitz  leading  the  way,  to  see  If  the 
passage  was  clear.  ^ 

" !  will  go  -with  you  as  far  as  the  stair  case,"  continued  the  Emperor, 
*=and  then "  * 

At  tiiat  moment  Dominick,  who  had  gone  forward  into  the  corridor, 
rushed  back  intA  the  room  pale  and  trembling,  "  It  is  too  late !"  ex- 
claimed he  m  a  stifled  voice,  "  there  comes  a  messenger  from  the  Em- 
press!" 


CHAPTER  XI. 

THE    EMPRESS    AITD   HEU    SOK. 

The  young  Count  was  not  mistaken.  It  "wasundced  a  mc3s3jQ:.o  from 
the  Empress.  '  It  was  the  Marshal  of  the  Household,  followed  by  fom- 
pages,  who  came  to  command  the  presence  of  the  Archduke,  to  whom 
her  Llajesty  wished  to  impart  something  of  importance.  '' 

A  deadly  paleness  overspread  the  face  of  the  young  Prince,  and  his 
whole  frame  shivered.  The  Emperor  felt  the  .shudder,  au'd  di-ew  his 
son's  arm  closer  to  his  heart.  "Courage,  ray  son,  courage!"  whispered 
he':  then  turning  towards  the  imperial  embassy,  be  said  aloud,  "An- 
nounce to  her, Majesty  that  I  will  accompany  the  Archdui<6  in  a  few  mo- 
ments." And  as  the  Marshal  stood  irresolute  and  confused,  the  Empe- 
ror smiling,  said,  "  OK,  I  see  that  you  have  been  ordered  to  accompany 
the  Prince  yourselves.  Come  then,  my  son,  we  will  e'en  go  along  with 
the  messengers." 

I'.faria  Theresa  was  pacing  the  floor  of  her  apartment  in  great  excite- 
ment. Her  large,  flashing  eyes,  now  and  then  turned  towards  the  door, 
and  whenever  she  fancied  that  footsteps  approached,  she  stopped,  and 
seemed  almost  to  gasp  with  anxiety. 

Suddenly  s^e  turned  towards  Father  Porhammer,  who  with  the  Count- 
ess Fuchs,  stood  by  the  side  of  the  sofa  from  which  she  had  risen. 
"  Father,"  said  she,  in  a  tremulous  voice,  "  I  cannot  tell  why  it  is  that 
as  I  await  my  son's  presence  here,  my  heart  is  overwhelmed  with  an- 
guish. I  feel  as  if  I  wero  about  to  do4iim  an  injustice,  and  for  all  the 
kingdoms  of  the  world  I  would  not  do  him  wrong." 

"  Nay,"  replied  the  Father,  "  your  Majesty  is  about  to  rescue  that  be- 
loved son  from  destruction ;  but  as  your  Mfycety  is  a  loving  mother,  it 


I-ABELLA.  r  , 


GodV,„ke,  „i,,  soon  be  hTaX  mUl^'^.^y'TJ^'  ''"  ''""'  "" 

1-Je  was  so  happy  to  become  a  soldier '"  miirmnrori  Ih    v 
had- resumed  her  agitated  walk-  "h  .  Iv..  wl    T  k  •  t^  Empress,  who 
ing  was  so  full  of  joy  and  nr  de  '     Mvl     ^       ^?  ^'J§^*'  ^"^  ^'^  ^'^'■ 
del-  father,  that  ni/^^  ^^^   '^'li:::;:^'^^^^  .^tif,,^''^ 

to  my  heirt  once  moroY  D  i  d^r  ho^  "  !!  Ttl^  "^^  T^^^  ^'''' 
,  rudely  from  your  first  dream  of  km  b  [ion  '-Ct  H  "  ""'u  ^'""  ''' 
'  evil,  in  the  lawless  life  of  the  Camn  rjn  l'  fJ  ^  u-  ,°  '""^"^^  *^°^^^  ^^ 
for  the  f.ght  as  Don  John  of  W^'  fJ^'T'^  ^"^'  ^"^.^^  ^'  ''  ^^^ 
would  scfk  death  in  his  firs  bat  1  .  Oh  roould'not"'  ''"  ''''"  '  '' 
heart  would  break  if  I  should  have  to  nL  Z  'l^' J^^-^'y^  't;  "W 
my  children  lie  in  the  vauUsof  srsLTeL  ^F  "'^  '7'"^"'"  .  ^^^"^  ^^^ 
se^h  !     Countess,"  she  said   tu  nt  3  7!'^  ^^>3^  Jo- 

it  not  true  that  Joseph  told  you  he  thnnX  ^W  ^'^^  ""l  ^'°''^'"'      '^ 

fleld  and  the  sacrifice  of  his  e^mies  was?!!!!''  '  '^'  '^"^^  "^  '^^  ^'''^^- 

.»r,d  knowing  thM  ,ou  oouTd  havr„o  S  wiS  1^'  ^^""'i?.^'''"'. 

pr:;^LtSLfr^f,™fsCi"r 

surveying  Ihe  uniform  .hich,  nevertheless    she  So^ledled Tn^h^. 
hem  was  beyond  e,;pre3sio„  becoming  to  him        "•='"'°"'<=<'S'<1  "i  '>«'■ 

form  rndln  wa'Zo'^etv^  """'"  ''"  '""'  ''''  "-"^  ^™''  -  '"^  '""" 
fora'ehangeinm^^rt^.^""'^""""""^  "  °'"="'  "■"« '''"'^  "»  "»- 

«;S{fiSo'^»i„^^^^^^^^^^^^  Our 

the  lf,7e;;d%'"h?r  h'u'slan^f"'   •"' °';'"'°"'  ''^^^^''•'  ^™^   ^«  --'■ 


52  JOSEPH  THE  SECUiS'D. 

"You  held  it  th6n  as  a  fact»  my  son,  that  you  were  a  soldier,"  said 
she,  catching  her  breath  with  anxiety. 

Joseph  raised  his  fine  eyes,  with  an  imploring  expression,  to  the  face 
of  his  mother.  "Your  Majesty  had  promised  me  that  I  should  be  a  sol- 
dier^" replied  he  firmly,  "and  I  have  never  yet  known  my  mother  to 
break  her  imperial  word  to  the  least  of  her  subjects." 

"Plearhim!"  cried  the  Empress,  with  a  laugh  of  derision,  "he  al- 
mosts  threatens  me!  This  young  sir  will  try  to  make  it  a  point  of  ho- 
nor with  me  to  keep  my  word." 

"Pardon  me,  your  Majesty,"  replied  Joseph  caln:ily,  "I  have  never 
allowed  myself  to  doubt  your  imperial  word  for  one  moment  of  my  life." 
"  Well  then,  your  Highness  has  my  imperial  permission  to  doubt  it 
now,"  cried  the  Empress,  severely  humiliated  by  the  implied  rebuke, 
"  I  allow  you  to  doubt  whether  I  will  ever  hold  my  promises,  when  they 
have  been  rashly  and  injudiciously  made." 

"Why,  your  Majesty,"  cried  the  Emperor,  "surely  you  will  not  re- 
tract your  word  in  the  face  of  the  whole  world,  that  knows  of  Joseph's 
appointment !" 

"  What  to  me  is  the  opinion  of  the  world  ?"  returned  the  haughty 
Empress.     "  To  God  and  my  conscience  alone  I  am  responsible  for  my 
acts,  and  to  thera  I  will  answer  it,  that  I  take  back  my  promise,  and  de-. 
clare  that  Joseph  shall  not  go  into  the  Army  !" 

Joseph  uttered  a  cry  of  anguish.  "  Mother !  mother !"  sobbed  the 
unhappy  boy,  "  it  cannot  be !" 

"  Why  can  it  not  be?"  said  the  Empress,  haughtily. 
"  Because  it  would  be  a  cruel  and  heartless  deed,"  cried  the  Arch- 
duke, losing  all  control  over  himself,  "so  to  make  sport  of  my  holiest 
and  purest  hopes  in  life ;  and  because  I  never,  never  can  believe  that  my 
own  mother  would  seek  to  break  my  heart." 

The  Empress  was  about  to  return  a  scathing  reply,  when  the  Emperor 
laid  his  gentle  hand  upon  her  shoulder,  and  the  words  died  upon  her  lips. 
"  I  beseech  of  you,  my  wife,"  said  he  "  to  remember  that  we  are  not 
alone.  Joseph  is  no  child ;  and  it  ill  becomes  any  but  his  parents  to 
witness  his  humiliation.  Have  the  goodness  then  to  dismiss  your  atten- 
dants, and  let  us  deal  with  our  son,  alone." 

"  Why  shall  I  dismiss  them "?"  cried  the  Empress,  "  they  are  my  trusty 
confidants ;  and  they  have  a  right  to  hear,  all  that  the  future.  Emperor  of 
Austria  presumes  to  say  to  his  mother!" 

"Pardon  me,"  replied  the  Emperor,  "I  differ  with  you,  and  desire 
that  they  should  not  hear  our  family  discussions.  In  these  things,  I  too 
have  my  right ;  and  if  your  Majesty  does  not  command  them  to  leave 
the  roomn  I  do." 

Maria  Theresa  looked  aghast  at  the  countenance  of  her  husband,  which 
was  firm  and  resolved  in  its  expression.  In  her  confusion,  she  could 
find  no  retort.  The  Emperor  waited  awhile,  and  seeing  that  she  did  not 
speak,  he  turned  towards  the  two  followers,  who  stood,  without  moving, 
at  their  posts. 


"  I  request  the  Cogntess  Fuchs  and  Father  Porhamnier  to  leave  the 
room,"  said  he,  with  dignity.  "Family  concerns  are  discussed  in  pri- 
vate." 

The  pair  did  not  go.  Fatlier  Porhammer  interrogated  the  face  of  the 
Empress,  and  the  Countess,  indignant  that  her  curiosity  -was  to  be  frus- 
trated,  looked  defiant. 

This  bold  disregard  of  her  husband's  command  was  irritating  to  the 
feelings  of  the  Empress.  She  thought  that  his  orders  should  have  out- 
weiglied  her  mere  remonstrance,  and  she  now  felt  it  her  duty  to  signify 
as  much.  .  • 

"  Countess  Fuchs  "  said  she,  "  doubtless  the  Emperot  has  not  spoken 
loud  enough  fur  you  to  hear  the  command  he  has  just  given  you.  You 
have  not  understood  his  words  and  I  will  take  the  trouble  to  repeat 
them".  The  Emperor  said,  'I  request  the  Countess  Fuchs  and  Father 
Porhammer  to  leave  the  room.  Our  family  concerns,  we  will  discuss 
in  private.' " 

The  lady  of  honor  colored,  and  with  deep  inclinations,  Father  Por- 
hammer and  herself  left  the  room. 

Maria  Tiieresa  looked  after  them  until  the  door  was  shut,  then  she 
smilingly  reached  her  hand  to  the  Emperor,  who  thanked  her  with  a 
pressure,  and  a  look  of  deepest  affection.  The  Archduke  had  retired  to 
the  embrasure  of  a  window,  perhaps  to  seek  composure,  perhaps  to  hide 
his  tears. 

"  Now,"  said  Maria  Theresa  sternly,  while  her  fiery  eyes  sought  the 
figure  of  her  son,  "now,  we  are  alone,  and  Joseph  is  at  liberty  to  speak. 
I  beg  him  to  remember  that  in  the  person  of  his  mother,  he  also  sees 
his  Sovereign,  and  that  the  Empress  will  resent  every  word  of  disloyalty 
spoken  to  the  parent.  And  I  hold  it  to  be  highly  disloyal  for  my  son  to 
accuse  me  of  making  sport  of  his  hopes.  1  have  not  come  to  my  latest 
determination  from  cruelty  or  caprice ;  I  have  made  it  in  the  strength 
of  my  maternal  love  to  shield  my  child  from  sin,  and  in  the  rectitude  of 
my  imperial  responsibility  to  my  people,  who  have  a  right  to  claim 
from  me  that  I  bestow  upon  them  a  monarch  who  is  worthy  to  reign 
over  Austria.  Therefore,  my  son,  as  Empress  and  mother,  I  say  that 
you  shall  remain.  That  is  now  my  unalterable  will.  If  this  decision 
grieves  you,  be  humble  and  Submissive ;  and  remember  that  it  is  your  du- 
ty, as  son  and  subject,  to  obey  without  demurring.  Then  shall  we  be 
good  friends  and  greet  one  another  heartily,  as  though  you  had  at  this 
moment  returned  from  the  victorious  battle-field.  There  is  my  hand. 
Be  welcome,  my  dear,  and  much  beloved  child  !" 

The  heart  of  the  Empress  had  gradually  softened,  and  as  she  smiled 
and  extended  her  hand,  her  beautiful  eyes  were  filled  to  overflowing, 
with  tears.  But  Joseph,  deathly-pale,  crossed  his  arms,  and  returned  her 
glances  of  love  with  a  haughty,  defiant  look,  that  almost'approachcd  to 
dislike. 

"  My  son,"  said  the  Emperor,  "  do  you  not  see  your  dear  mother's 
hand  extended  to  meet  yours  ?" 


54  JOSEPil  THE  SECOND. 

"I  see  it,  J  see  it,"  cried  Joseph  passionately ;  *' bftt  I  cflnnot  fake  ifc 
— I  cannot  play  my. part  in  this  mocliery  of  a  return.  No  mother,  no, 
I  canuofc  kiss  ihe  hand  that  has  so  cruelly  dashed  my  hopes  to  earth ! 
And  you  wish  to  carry  ^your  tyranny  so  far  as  to  exact  that  I  receive  it 
\vith  a  smile? — Oh,  mother !  my  heart  is  breaking,  Have  pity  on  me, 
'  and  take  back  those  cruel  words  ;  let  me  go,  let  me  go.  Do  not  mate 
me  a  by-word  for  the  world,  that  hereafter  will  refuse  me  its  respect. 
Let  me  go,  if  but  for  a  few  wrecks,  and  on  the  day  when  you  command 
ray  returp,  I  will  come  homo  !  Oh,  my  heart  was  too  small  to  hold  the 
love  I  boH^  you  for  your  consent  to  juy  departure  !  It  seemed  to  mei 
that  I  had  just  b(»gun  to  live ;.  the  world  was  full  of  beauty,  and  I  forgot 
all  the  trials  of  my  childhood  !  For  one  week,  I  have  been  young,  dear 
mother ;  hurl  me  not  back  again  into  that  dark  dungeon  of  solitude 
v/here  so  much  of  my  short  life  has  been  spent !  Do  not  condemn  me 
to  live  as  I  haye  hitherto  lived  ;  give  me  freedom,  give  me  my  man- 
hood's rights  !" 

".  No  !  no  !  a  thousand  times  no  !"  crifed  the  exasperated  Empress  ;  **  I 
HQG  now  that  I  am  right  to  keep  such  an  unfeeling  and  ungrateful  son  at 
home.  He  talks  of  his  sufferings  forsooth  !  AVhat  has  he  ever^suiFKrcd 
at  my  hands  1" 

"  What  I  hav&'suffered  !"  exclaimed  Joseph,  whose  teeth  chattered  as 
if  he  were  having  a  chill,  and  who  was  no  longer  in  a  state  to  suppress 
the  terrible  eruption  of  his  heart's  agony.  •  "  What  have  I  suffered,  ask 
you  1  I  will  tell  you  what,  Empress-mother,  I  have  suffered  since  first 
i  could  love,  or  think,  or  endure.  As  a  child  I  have  felt  that  my  moth- 
ei*  loved  another  son  more  than  she  loved  me  !  When  my  longing  eyes 
sought  hers,  they  were  rivetted  upon  another  face.  When  my  brother 
and  I  have  sinned  together,  he  has  been  forgiven,  when  1  have  been  pun- 
ished. Sorrow  and  jealousy  were  in  my  heart,  and  no  one  cared  enough 
for  me  to  ask  v/hy  I  wept.  1  was  left  to  sulier  without  one  word  of 
kindness ;  and  you  wondered  that  I  was  taciturn,  and  mocked  at  my 
slighted  longings  for  love,  and  called  them  by  hard  names.  And  then 
you  pointed  to  my  caressed  and  indulged  brother,  and  bade  me  be  gay 
like  him !. 

"  My  son,  my  son !"  cried  the  Etnpevor,  "  control  yourself,  you  know 
not  what  you  say." 

"  Let  him  go  on,  Eraneis,"  said  the  pale  mother ;  "  it  is  well  that  I 
should  know  his  heart  at  last." 

"  Yes,"  continued  the  maddened  Archduke,  "  let  me  go  on,  for  in  my 
heart  is  nothing  but  misery  and  slighted  affection. — Ob,  mother,  moth- 
er,", exclaimed  he,  suddenly  changing  from  defiance  to  the  most  pathetic 
entreaty,  "  on  my  knees,  1  implore  you  to  let  me  go  ;  have  mercy,  have 
mercy  upon  your  wretched  son  !" 

And  the  young  Prince,  with  outstretched  hands,  threw  himself  Upon 
his  knees  before  his  mother.  The  long-suppressed  tears  gushed  forth, 
the  wild.tempest  of  his  ungovernable  fury  \\?as  spent,  and  now  he  sobbed 
^  if  indeed  his  young  heart  wafi- breaking. 


iSAi^hLLA.  ;").!> 

The  Emperor  could  softrryly  rrsfrnin  the  impuJee  kd  So\i  to  \r«ep  witk 
his  son  ;  but  be  came  and  laid  liis  hand  upon  thy  poor  boy's  head,  inid 
looked  with  passionate  entreaty  at  the  Empress. 

"  Dear  There9a,^aid  ?ie,  "  be  compassionate  and  forgiving.  Pardon 
him,  beloved,  the  Mrd  and  unjust  words  which  in  the  bitterness  of  a  tirst 
sorrow,  he  has  spoken  to  the  best  cf  mothers.  Raise  hiui  up  froin  the 
depths  of  his  despair,  and  grant  the  boon  for  which,  I  am  sure,  he  will 
love  you  beyond  boundfl." 

"  I  wish  that  I  dared  to  grant  it  to  yourself,  Francis,"  replied  the  Em- 
press sadly  and  tearfully,  *'  but  you  see  that  he  has  made  it  impossible. 
I  dure  not  do  it;  the  mother  has  no  right  to  plead  with  the  Enlp^^ss  for 
her  rebelliouH  son.  What  he  has  said,  1  freely  forgive — God  grant  that 
I  may  forget  It !  Well  do  I  know,  how  stormy  is  youth,  and  I  remem- 
ber that  Joseph  is  my  son.  It  is  the  wild  Spanish  blood  of  my  anccilry 
that  boils  in  his  veins — and,  therefore,  I  forgive  him  with  all  my  heart. 
But  revoke  my  last  sentence,  that  I  cannot  do ! — To  do  so,  would  be  to 
confirm  him  in  wrong; — Rise,  ray  sou  Joseph,  I  forgive  all  your  cruel 
words,  but  wliat  I  have  said,  I  havo  said.     You  remain  at  homo  !'' 

Joseph  rose  slovvly  from  his  knees.  The  tears  inhiseyeswcre  dried  ; 
his  lips  were  compressed,  and  once  biore  ho  wore  the  old  look  of  cold 
and  sullen  indifTerenco,  He  made  a  profound  inclination  before  hi» 
mother.  "  I  have  heard  the  Empress's  commands,"  said  ho  in  a  huaise 
and  unnatural  voice,  "it  is  my  duty  to  obey.  Allow  me  to  go  to  my 
prison,  that  1  may  doff  this  manly  garb,  which  no  longer,  is  suitable  to 
ray  blasted  career." 

Without  awaiting  the  answer,  he  turned  away,  and  with  hasty  strides  • 
left  the  room. 

The  Empress  watched  him  in  speechless  anxiety.  As  the  door  closed 
upon  him,  her  features  assumed  an  expression  of  the  deepest  tendemc  .s», 
and  she  said,  "  Go,  <}uickly,  Franz,  go  after  him.  Try  to  comfort  and 
sustain  him.     I  do  not  know  wlyr,  but  1  foel  unsasy " 

At  that  moment,  a  cry  was  heard  in  the  ante-room,  and  the  fall  of  a 
heavy  body  to  the  floor.  ,^ 

"  God  help  me,  it  is  Joseph !"  shrieked  the  Empress,  and  forgetting 
all  cevcmotiy,  she  darted  from  the  room,  and  rashed  by  her  dijimaycd. 
attendants  through  the  anic-roora,  out  into  the  corridor.  Stretched  on 
the  floor,  insensible  and  lifeless,  lay  her  son. 

Without  a  word,  the  Empress  waved  off  the  crowd  that  vvas  as- 
sembled arour^d  his  body.  The  might  of  ber  love  gave  hor  supernatural 
strength;  and  folding  her  arms  around  her  child,  she  covered  his  pale 
face  with  kisses,  and  from  the  very  midst  of  the  frightened  attendants, 
she  bore  him  herself  to  hor  room,  vrhere  she  softly  laid  him  upon  her 
own  bed. 

No  one  except  the  Emperor  had  ventured  to  follow ;  he  stood  near, 
and  reached  the  salts,  to  which  the  Empress  had  silently  pointed.  Sho 
rubbed  her  son's  tcinn]cs,  hold  the  salts  to  his  nostrils,  and  at  la^t  -vvUen 
he  gavo  si^ns  of  life,  she  turned  to  the  Emperor  and  bur»t  into  t«:ir8. 


56  JO.SEPH  niJi  .-SJiCUNU 

"  Oh,  Frnnz,"  said  she,  "  I  almost  wish  that  he  were  sick,  that  day  and 
night  I  might  watch  by  his  bedside,  and  his  poor  heart  might  feel  the  full 
extent  of  a  mother's  love  for  her  first-born  child." 

Perhaps  God  granted  her  prayer,  that  these  two  noble  hearts  might 
no  longer  be  estranged,  but  that  each  might  at  las^j^ieet  the  other  in  the 
fullest  confidence  of  mutual  love. 

A  violent  attack  of  fever  followed  the  swoon  of  the  Archduke.  The 
Empress  never  left  his  side.  He  slept  in  her  own  room,  and  she  watch- 
ed over  him  with  gentlest  and  most  afi^ectionate  care. 

Whenever  Joseph  awaked  from  his  fever-dreams,  and  unclosed  his- 
eyes,  there,  close  to  his  bedside,  he  saw  the  Empress,  who  greeted  him 
with  loving  words,  and  softest  caresses.  Whenever,  in  his  fever-thirst, 
he  called  for  drink,  her  hand  held  the  cup  to  his  parched  lips ;  and  when- 
ever that  soft  cool  hand  was  laid  upon  his  hot  brow,  he  felt  as  if  its 
touch  chased  away  all  pain,  and  soothed  all  sorrow. 

When  he  had  recovered  enough  to  sit  up,  still  his  mother  would  not 
consent  for  him  to  leave  her  room  for  his  own.  As  long  as  he  was  an 
invalid,  he  should  be  hers  alone.  In  her  room,  and  through  her  loving 
care,  should  he  find  returning  health.  His  sisters  and  brothers  assem- 
bled there  to  cheer  him  with  their  childish  mirth,  and  his  young  friend, 
Dominick  Kaunitz,  came  daily  to  entertain  him  with  his  lively  gossip. 
Altogether,  the  Archduke  was  happy.  If  he  had  lost  Fame,  he  had 
found  Love. 

One  day,  when  cushioned  in  his  great  soft  arm-chair,  he  was  chatting 
with  his  favorite  tutor.  Count  Bathiany,  the  Empress  entered  the  room, 
her  face  lit  up  with  a  happy  smile,  whije  in  her  hands  she  held  an  etui 
of  red  morocco. 

"  What  think  you  Ihave  in  this  etui,  dear  V  said  she,  coming  forward 
and  bending  over  her  son  to  bestow  a  kiss. 

— "  I  do  not  know  ;  but  I  guess  it  is  some  new  gift  of  love  from  my 
mother's  dear  hand." 

"Yes,  rightly  guessed.  Tt  is  a  genuine  gift  of  love  and  with  God's 
grace,  it  may  prove  the  brightest  jewel  in  your  future  crown.  Since  I 
would  not  let  you  leave  my  house,  my  son,  I  feel  it  my  duty,  at  least, 
to  do  my  best  to  make  your  home  a  happy  one.  I  also  wish  to  show 
you  that  in  my  sight,  you  are  no  longer  a  boy,  but  a  man  worthy  to. 
govern  your  own  household.  Look  at  the  picture  in  this  case,  and  if  it 
pleases  you,  my  darling  son,  I  give  you  not  only  the  portrait,  but  the 
original  also." 

She  handed  him  the  case,  in  which  lay  the  minature  of  a  young  girl  of 
surpassing  beauty,  whose  large,  dark  eyes  seemed  to  gaze  upon  him  with 
a  look  of  melancholy  entreaty. 

The  Archduke  contemplated  the  picture  for  some  time,  and  gradually 
over  his  pale  face,  then  stole  a  flush  of  vague  delight. 

"  Well !"  asked  the  Empress,  "  does  the  maiden  please  you  ?" 

"  Please  me !  echoed  the  Archduke,  without  withdrawing  his  eyes  from 
the  picture.     "  Tis  the  image  of  an  angel  J    There  is  something  in  her 


1«ABEJJ.A.  57 

look  so  beseeching,  something  in  her  smile  so  sad,  that  I  feel  as  if  I  would 
fall  at  her  feet  and  weep,  and  yet  mother " 

"  Hear  him,  Franz  "  cried  Maria  Theresa  to  the  Emperor,  who  had 
entered  the  room  ftnobserved  by  his  son.  "  Hear  our  own  child  !  Love 
in  his  heart  will  be  a  sentiment  as  holy,  as  faithful,  and  as  profound  as 
it  has  been  with  us  for  many  happy  years  !  Will  you  have  the  angel 
for  your  wife,  Joseph  ?" 

The  Archduke  raised  his  expressive  eyes  to  the  face  of  his  mother. 
*'  If  I  will  have  her!"  murnuired  he,  sadly.  "  Dear  mother,  would  she 
deign  to  look  upon  me  !  Will  she  not  rather  turn  away  fiom  him,  to 
whom  the  whole  world  is  indifferent !" 

"  My  precious  child,  she  will  love  and  honor  you,  as  the  world  will 
do  when  it  comes  to  know  your  noble  heart."  And  once  more  the  Em- 
press bent  over  her  son,  and  imprinted  a  kiss  upon  his  pale  brow.  "It 
is  settled  then,  my  son,  that  you  shall  offer  your  hand  to  this  beautiful 
girl.  In  one  week  you  will  have  attained  your  nineteenth  birth-day,  and 
you  shall  give  a  good  example  to  your  sisters.    Do  you  like  the  prospect  ?" 

— "  Yes,  dear  mother,  I  am  perfectly  satisfied." 

— "  And  you  do  not  ask  her  name  or  rank  ?" 

— "  You  have  chosen  her  for  me  ;  and  1  take  her  without  name  or 
rank  from  your  hand." 

"  Well,  then,"  cried  the  delighted  Empress,  "  Count  Bathiany,  you 
have  ever  been  the  favorite  preceptor  of  the  Archduke.  Upon  you,  then, 
shall  this  honorable  mission  devolve.  To-morrow,  aa  Ambassador  Ex- 
traordinary from  our  Court,  you  shall  go  in  state  to  ask  of  Don  Philip 
of  Parma,  the  hand  of  his  daughter,  Isabel,  for  his  imperial  Highness, 
the  crown-prince  of  Austria  !" 


CHAPTER  XII. 

AN  ITALIAN  NIGHT. 

The  moon  is  up,  but  she  is  hidden  behind  he,avy  masses  of  clouds — 
"welcome  clouds  that  shelter  lovers'  secrets.  The  fountains,  whose  sil- 
very showers  keep  such  sweet  time  to  the  murmurings  of  love,  plash 
gently  on,  hushing  the  sound  of  lovers'  voices  ;  on  the  bosom  of  yonder 
marble-cinctured  lake,  two  snow-white  swans  are  floating  silently  ;  and 
far  amid  groves  of  myrtle  and  olive,  the  nightingale  warbles  her  notes 
of  love.  Not  a  step  echoes  through  the  long  avenues  of  the  ducal  park, 
not  a  light  glimmers  from  the  windows  of  the  ducal  palace.  'Tis  the 
hour  of  midnight,  and  gentle  sleep  hath  come  to  all.  ' 


58  JOSKPH  THE  SECOND. 

To  fllJ,  save  two.  Sttiy  yet  awhile  behind  the  cloud,  oh  tell-tale 
rrioon  !  for  there — there  are  the  Ibvers.  See  where  fair  Juliet  leans 
from  the  raarble  Lalcouy,  while  Romeo  below  whispers  of  plighted  vows 
that;  naught  shall  cancel  save — death. 

"  To-morrow,  beloved,  to-morrow,  thou  wilt  be  mine  forever  V 

— "  I  will  be  thiue  in  the  face  of  the  whole  world.*' 

"  And*wi[t  thou  never  repent  1  Hast  thou  strength  to  brave  the 
world's  scorn  for  my  sake?" 

"  Do  I  need  strength  to  stretch  forth  my.  hand  for  that  which  is  dear- 
er to  me  than  all  the  -^orld  beside  !  Oh,  there  is  selfishness  in  my  love, 
Riccardo,  for  it  loses  sight  of  the  dangers  that  threaten  thee,  on  the  day 
when  thou  callest  me  wife !" 

— "  There  is  but  one  danger,  dearest — that  of  loving  thee !  I  know 
no  other." 

"  Still,  be  cautious  for  my  sake.  .Remember,  we  live  on  Spanish  soil, 
though  Italy's  skies  are  over'  head  ;  and  Spanish  vengeance  is  sharp  and 
swift.  Betray  not  thy  hopes  by  smile  or  glance— In  a  few  days  we  will 
be  far  away  in  the  Paradise  where  our  happiness  shall  be  hidden  from 
all  eyes,  save  those  of  angels.  Be  guarded,  therefore,  dear  one,  for  see  ! 
Even  now  the  moon  is  forth  again  in  all  her  splendor ;  and  were  my  fa- 
ther's spies  to  track  thee ! — Gracious  Heaven,  go  !  Think  of  Spanish 
daggers,  and  let  us  part  for  a  few  short  hours." 

■  "  Well,  I  will  go,  strengthened  U)  turn  my  eyes  from  thy  beauty,  by 
thoughts  of  to-morrow's  bliss !     In  the  ehapal  I  await  thee." 

"  1  will  be  there.     The  priest  will  not  butray  us  1" 

— *'  He  was  the  friend  of  my  childhood — we  may  trust  him,  Isabel." 

"  Then,  Heaven  bless  thee,  good  night.  Hark  ! — did  I  not  hear  some- 
thing rustle  in  the  thicket  1" 

— "  The  wind  sighing  through  the  pine-trees,  love." 

— "  TIku,  adieu,  till  morning." 

-^"  Adieu,  sweet  one." 

The  moon  burst  forth  in'full  radiance,  and  revealed  the  manly  form 
that  hurried  through  the  avenue ;  while  clear  as  in  noon-day  could  be 
seen  the  slender  white  figure  on  the  balcony  that  watched  his  retreathig 
steps. 

He  is  hidden  now,  but  she  still  lingers,  listening  enraptured  to  tho 
fountain's  murmur  and  the  nightingale's  song ;  looking  upward  at  tho 
moon  as  she  wandered  through  Heaven's  pathless  way,  and  thinking  that 
never  had  earth  or  sky  seemed  so  lovely  before — ■ 

But  hark  !  What  sounds  are  those  1  A  cry,  a  fearful  cry  rends  tho 
air;  and  it  comes  from  the  thicket  where,  a  moment  before,  he  disap- 
peared from  her  sight.  s 

She  started — then,  breathless  as  a  statue,  she  listened,  in  deadly  sus- 
pense. Again  that  cry,  that  dreadful  cry  pierces  througb  the  stillness 
of  the  night,  freezing  her  young  heart  with  horror  ! 

"  His  death-wail !"  cried  the  vretched  girl;  and  careless  of  danger, 
Bcsxoe  knowing  what  »ho  did,  h«©d»ng  fiotbi.ng  }»\t  the  smind  of  her  Va-- 


cr's  voice,  slie  sprang  from  the  balcony,  and  «s  thmjgh  moon-b^ams  hsfl 
<]rawii  hor  thilhcr,  siie  swmig  her?elf  to  tlie  gr^uiii.i.  l*'or  one  mcrin'nr, 
her  slight  form  wavered,  rheii  she  dnrled  forvvfird  nud  flow  liirouph'  tho 
avenue  to  the  thicket.  Away  she  sped,  though  the  moon  shone  so  bright 
that  she  could  be  distinctly'seeD,  her  own  shadow  following  like  a  dusky 
phuiit^m  behind.  ■  " 

Bo  friendly,  now,  fair  moon,  and  light  her  to  her  lover,  that  she  may 
look  into  his  eyes  once  more,  before  they  close  forever ! 

She  has  reached  the  spot,  and,  with  a  low  cry,  she  throws  herself  by  the 
side  of  the  tall  figure  that  lies  fitretched  at  its  length  upon  the  green 
sward. 

,  Yes — it  is  he!  He  whom  she  loves  ;  the  soul  of  her  soul,  the  life  of 
her  life  !  And  he  lies  cold  and  motionless,  his  eyes  staring  blindly  up- 
on tho  heavens,  his  purple  lips  unclosing  to  exhale  his  last  sighs,  while, 
from  two  hideous  wounds  in  his  side,  the  blood  streams  over  the  white 
dress  of  his  betrothed.     But  he  is  not  dead,  his  blood  is  still  warm. 

She  bends  over,  and  kisses  his  cold  lips  ;  she  tears  her  lace  mantle 
from  her  shoulders,  and,  pressing  it  to  his  wound?,  tries  to  staunch  the 
life-blood  welling  from  his  side.  Tho  mantle  grows  scarlet  with  his  gore, 
but  the  lips  are  whiter  and  colder  with  each  kiss.  She  knows,  alas  !  that 
there  is  one  nearer  to' him  now  than  sb© — Azrael  is  between  hor  and  her 
lover.     Ho  grows  colder — stiffor,  tod  oh  God — tho  death-rattle ! 

"  Take  me  with  thee !  Take  mc,  take  me  1"  screamed  tho  despairing 
girl;  and  her  arms  clasped  frantically  around  tho  body,  until  they  seem- 
ed as  if  they  were  indeed  stiffening  into  one  eternal  embrace. 

"Have  pity,  Riccardo  !  My  life,  my  soul,  le£\vQ  mo  not  here  without 
thee !     One  word — one  loAk,  beloved  !" 

She  stared  at  him  in  wild  despair,  and  seeing  that  he  made  no  sign  of 
response  to  her  passionafre  appeal,  she  raised  her  hands  to  Heaven,  and 
kneeling  by  his  side,  she  prayed. 

"  Oh,  God,  merciful  God,  take  not  his  fleeting  life  until  he  has' given, 
me  one  last  word — until  he  has  told  me  how  long  we  shall  be  parted !" 

Her  arms  sank  heavily  down,  and  she  sought  the  face  of  the  dying 
man,  whispering,  oh,  how  tenderly !  "  Hear  me,  my  ov.'u  ;  tell  me 
when  1  shall  follow  thee  to  Heaven  !" 

She  ceased — for  suddenly  she  felt  him  tremble — his  eyes  moved  until 
they  met  hers,  and  once  more  a  smile  flitted  across  those  blanched  lips. 
He  raised  his  head,  arid  slowly  his  body  moved,  until,  supported  in  her 
arms,  he  sat  erect.  Enraptured,  she  laid  her  cheek  to  his,  and  waited  ; 
for  love  had  called  him  back  to  life,  and  he  would  spaak. 

"  We  shall  meet  again  in  three " 

lie  fell  back,  and  with  a  last  cry,  expired.  Love  had  struggled  hard 
with  death;  but  death  had  won  the  victory. 

Isabel  shed  no  tears.  She  closed  her  lover's  eyes  ;  gave  him  one  long 
last  kiss  ;  and,  as  she  bent  Qver  him,  her  hair  was  soaked  in  his  blood. 
Siie  took  the  ^antle,  wet  with  gore,  and  pressed  it  to  her  heart.  "  Pn"!- 
cious  mantle  V  ?flid  she,  '■  we  noed  not  pftrt— in  throe  dajre,  or — ^p^rchancA 


Hi)  JUSEi'H  THE  SECOND. 

he  said  three  hours,  we  shall  lie  together  in  the  coffin.     Until  then,  Rie- 

cardo,  farewell !"  ^ 

Slowly  she  turned,  and  left  the  horrible  place.  Without  faltering,  she 
came  up  the  long  moon-lit  avenue,  her  head  thrown  back,  and  her  large 
lustrous  eyes  fixed  upon  Heaven,  as  though  she  sought  to  find  her  lover's 
soul  somewhere  among  die  floating  clouds. 

The  moon  flung  its  radiance  around  her  path;  and  ever,  as  she  walked, 
it  grew  brighter,, until  the  poor  stricken  child  of  ei^rth  looked  like  a  glo- 
rified saint.  "  God  grant  that  it  be  three  hours,"  murmured  she,  <'three 
days  were  an  eternity  !'' 

She  reached  the  palace,  without  having  thought  that  there  was  no  door ' 
open  by  which  she  could  enter,  when  suddenly  a  form  emerged  from  the 
shadowed  wall,  and  a  woman's  voice  whispered ; 

"  Quick,  for  Heaven's  sake,  the  side-door  is  open,  and  all  in  the  palace 
sleep." 

"  I  too,  in  three  hours,  shall  sleep,"  cried  Isabel  triumphantly,  and  with 
these  words  she  fell  to  the  ground  in  a  swoon.* 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

ISABELLA  OF  PARMA. 

The  Princess  Isabella  slept  unusually  late  the  next  morning.  Her 
little  bell,  that  summoned  the  ladies  of  honor,  had  not  yet  rung,  and  the 
day  was  far  advanced.  The  first  Cameriera  seemed  troubled,  and  whis- 
pered her  apprehensions  that  the  Princess  was  sick ;  for  she  had  obser- 
ved, for  some  days,  she  said,  that  her  Highness  had  looked  pale. 

"But  we  must  go  into  her  room,  ladies,"  added  she,  "for  it  is  almost 
time  for  her  Highness  to  visit  the  Duke,  and  he  never  forgives  an  omis- 
sion of  ceremonial.  Follow  me  then,  /  will  undertake  to  awaken  the 
Princess." 

She  opened  the  door  softly,  and  entered  the  sleeping-room  of  iha 
Princess,  followed  by  the  other  maids  of  honor. 

"She  sleeps  yet,"  said  the  Cameriera,  but  I  must  waken  her,"  mur- 
mured she  to  herself,  "it  is  my  duty."  / 

She  advanced,  and  drew  aside  the  heavy  folds  of*  the  pink  silk  curtains 
that  hung  around  the  bed. 

"Pardon  me,  your  Highness,"  she  whispered,  *'but" — 

She  stopped,  for  to  her  great  surprise,  the  Princess  was  awake.  She 
lay  in  her  long  white  night-dress,  with  her  hands  crossed  over  her  breast, 
♦  Caroline  Pichler.    Memoirg  of  ray  Life,    Pait  ] ,  page  189. 


ISABELLA.  61 

and  her  head  cushioned  on  the  rose-colored  pillow  thnt  contrasted  painfull v 
with  the  pallor  of  her  marble-white  face.  Her  large  eyes  were  disteii- 
.ded,  and  fixed  upon  a  picture  of  the  blessed  Virgin  that  hung  at  the  foot 
of  the  bed.  Slowly  her  looks  turned  upon  her  attendants  who,  breath- 
less and  frightened,  gazed  upon  the  rosy  pillow,  and  the  pallid  face  that 
lay  in  its  midst,^azzling  their  eyes  with  its  whitenesa. 

"  Pardon  me,"  again  whispered  the  Cameriera,  "  it  is  almost  noon- 
day." 

"What  hour?"  murmured  the  Princess. 

"It  is  ten  o'clock,  your  Highness." 

The  Princess  shivered,  and  exclaimed,  "  For  three  days  then  !"  And 
turning  away  she  began  to  pray  in  a  low  voice,  and  none  but  God  knew 
the  meaning  of  that  whispered  prayer. 

,  Her  prayer  over,  she  passed  her  little  white  hand  over  the  dark  locks 
that  fell  around  her  face  and  made  an  effort  to  rise. 

Her  maids  of  honor  saw  that  she  was  ill,  and  hastened  to  assist  her. 
The  hour  of  the  Princess's  toilet  was  to  her  attendants  the  most  delight- 
ful hour  of  the  day.  From  her  bedchamber,  all  ceremonial  was  banish- 
ed, and  there,  with  her  young  companions,  Isabella  was  accustomed'  to 
laugh,  jest,  sing,  and  be  as  merry  and  as  free  from  care  as  the  least  of 
ber  father's  subjects. 

Philip  of  Parma  was  by  birth  a  Spaniard,  one  of  the  sons  of  Philip 
the  Fifth.  After  the  vicissitudes  of  war  which  wrested  Naples  and  Par- 
ma from  the  hands  of  Austria,  Don  Carlos  of  Spain  became  King  of  Na- 
ples, and  Don  Philip  duke  of  Parma.  Isabella,  then  a  child  of  seven 
years,  had  been  allowed  the  privilege  of  taking  with  her  to  Italy,  her 
young  playmates  who,  for  form's  sake,  as  she  grew  older,  became  her 
maids  of  honor.  Dut  they  were  her  dear  and  chosen  friends,  and  with 
them  she  was  accustomed  to  speak  the  Spanish  language  only. 

Her  mother,  a  daughter  of  Louis  Fifteenth,  had  introduced  French 
I  customs  into  the  Court  of  Parma,  and  during  her  life  the  gayety  and 
grace  of  French  manners  had  rendered  that  Court  one  of  the'most  at- 
tractive in  Europe.  But  the  lovely  Duchess  of  Parma  died,  and  with 
her  died  all  that  made  Court  life  endurable.  The  French  language  was 
forbidden^  and  French  customs  were  banished.  Some  said  that  the  Duke 
had  loved  his  wife  so  deeply,  that  in  his  grief  he  had  excluded  from  his 
Court  everything  suggestive  of  his  .past  happiness.  Others  contended 
that  he  had  made  her  life  so  wretched  by  his  jealous  and  tyrannical  con- 
duct, that  remorse  had  driven  him  to  banish,  if  possible,  every  reminder 
of  the  woman  whom  he  had  almost  murdered. 

In  the  hearts  of  her  children,  the  mother's  memory  was  enshrined; 
and  the  brother  and  sister  were  accustomed  for  her  sake,  in  their  private 
intercourse,  to  speak  her  language  altogether. 

At  court,  they  spoke  the  language  of  the  country  ;  and  Isabella,  who 
with  her  friends,  sang  Boleros  and  danced  the  Cac'huca  ;  with  her  broth- 
er, read  Racine  afid  Corneille;  was  equally  happy  while  she  hung  en- 
raptured upon  the  strains  of  Pcrgolese's  music,  or  gazed  entranced  upon 


62  JOSEFS  THE  SECOI^D 

the  pictures  of  Corregio  and  Veronese.  The  Priticess  herself  was  both  » 
painter  and  musician,  and  no  one,  more  than  she,  loved  Italy,  and  Ital- 
ian art.^.,  I 

Such,  until  this  wretched  morning,  had  been  the  life  of  young  Isabella. 
What  was -she  now?  'A  cold,  white  image,  in  whose  staring  eyes  the 
light  was  quenched — from  whoso  blanched  Ups  the  smile«had  fled  forever  J 

Her  grieved  attendants  could  scarcely  suppress  their  tears,  as  .sa^ly 
and  silently  they  arrayed  her  in  her  rich  robes  ;  while  she,  not  seeming- 
to  know  where  she  was,  gazed  at  her  own  reflected  imnge,  with  a  look 
of  stupid  horror.  They  dressed  her  beautiful  hair,  and  bound  it  up  in 
massy  braids.  They  smoothed  it  over  her  death-cold  forehead,  and 
shuddered  to  see  how  like  a  corpse  she  looked.  At  last,  the  task  was 
at  an  end,  a\id  the  Cameriera  coming  towards  her,  offered  the  cup  of 
chocolate,  which  she  was  accnstomed  to  drink  at  that  hour.  Tenderly 
she  besought  the  unhappy  girl  to  partake  of  it,  but  Isabella  waved  away 
the  cup,  saying, 

"  Dear  friend,  offer  me  no  earthly  food.  I  pine  for  the  banq^iet  of  an- 
gels. Let  the  chaplain  be  called  to  bring  th\3  Viaticum.  I  wish  to'  re- 
ceive the  last  Sacraments  of  the  dying." 

A  cry  of  horror  burst  from  the  lips  of  the  maids  of  honor. 

"  The  chaplain  !  The  last  sacraments !  For  you,  my  beloved  child  ?"» 
asked  the  sobbing  Caraeriera. 

"  For  me,"  replied  Isabella. 

"  Heavenly  father !"  exclaimed  the  Aja.     "  Have  you  then  presumed 
to  anticipate  the  will  of  God,  and  to  go  before  his  presence,  uncalled?" 
-    — "  No,  no,  death  will  come  to  me,  I  will  not  seek  it.     I  will  endure 
life  a.<5  long  as  God  wills,  but,  in  three  days,  he  calls  me  hence." 

The  young  girls  crowded  around  her,  weeping,  and  imploring  her  not 
to  leave  them. 

Isabella's  white  lips  parted  with  a  strange  smile.  '*  You  tell  me  not 
to  die,  dear  friends,  do  you  not  see  that  I  am  already  dead  ?  My  heart 
is  bleeding  by " 


The  hand  of  the  Cameriera  was  laid  upon  her  arm,  and  she  whispered, 
'•  My  child,  be  siient.  you  know  not  what  you  say." 

Isabella  bowed  her  head,  and  then  looking  around  tenderly  at  her  kneels 
ing  companions,  she  said,  "  Rise  and  sit  by  me,  dear  girls,  and  listen  to 
what  I  am -about  to  say,  for  we  speak  together  for  the  last  time  on  earth." 

The  maidens  arose,  and  obeyed,  while  Isabella  leaned  her  head  for  a 
few  moments  upon  the  bosom  of  her  mother's  friend,  the  Cameriera. 
There  was  a  pause,  during  which  the  poor  girl  seemed  to  hav(\  received' 
some  comfort  in  those  friendly  arms ;  for  she  final|y  sighed,  and,  raising 
her  head  again,  she  spoke  solemnly,  liut  not  unnaturally. 

"I  had  last  night  a  singular  vision,"  she  said.  The  spirit  of  my 
mother  appeared  to  me,  and  said  that  in  three  days  I  was  to  die.  I  be- 
lieve in  this  vision.  Do  not  weep,  dear  sisters ;  I  go  to  eternal  rest. 
Life  is  hitter,  death  is  sweet.  Pray  for  me,  tlmt  my  mother's  prophetic 
^vorda  be  verified  ;  and  you,  beloTed  fViend  of  that  mother,"  added  she, 


ISABELLA.  63 

kissing  the  Canieriera's  cheok,  "you  who  know  the  depths  of  my  heart, 
and  its  secret,  silent  agony,  pray  for  your  child,  aud  prating,  ask  of  her 
Heavenly  Father — death. 

The  Aja  made  no  reply,  sh©  \Ta3  weeping  with  the  others. 

Isabella  contemplated  the  group  for  a  moment,  while  a  ray  of  life  lib 
up  her  eyes,  showing  that,  even  now,  it  was  sad  to  part  from  her  friends 
forever.  But  the  e.\pression  was  momentary.  Her  face  returned  to  its 
deadly  paleness,  as  gasping  for  breath,  she  stammered,  "  Now — now — r 
for — my  father  !  Estrella,  go  to  the  apartments  of  the  Duke,  and  say 
that  I  desire  an  interview  with  his  royal  Ilifjhness. 

The  young  girl  returned  in  a  few  iftoments  with  an  answer.  His  roy- 
al Highness  had  that  morning  gone  some  distance  in  tho  country  on  jv 
hunting  excursion,  and  would  be  absent  for  several  days. 

Isabella  looked  at  tho  Camericra,  who  still  stood  beside  her,  and  her 
pale  lips  quivered.  *'  Did  1  not  know  itt"  whispered  she  ;  "I  told  you 
truly,  iijs  did  it!     God,  forgive hira,  I  cannot. " 

"  And,  now,"  continued  she  aloud,  "  now  to  my  last  earthly  affairs." 
So  saying,  she  called  for  her  caskets  of  jewels  and  divided  th-^m  between 
the  young  maids  of  honor  ;  and  cutting  from  her  hair  one  rich  massy 
lock,  she  placed  it  in  Estrella's  hand,  saying,  "  Share  it  among  you  all." 
To  the  Camcriera,  she  gave  a  sealed  packet,  and  then  bade  them  loavo 
her  io  herself;  for  the  ringing,  of  tho  chapel-bell  annoimced  the  depar- 
ture of  the  priest  from  thencn,  with  the  blessed  sacrament. 

The  sacred  rites  v/ei>e  ended.  On  her  knees,  the  Princess  Isabella  had 
made  her  confession,  and  had  revealed  to  tho  shuddering  priest,  the  hor- 
rible secrets  of  the  preceding  night.  She  had  received  abiution,  and'had 
partaken  of  tho  holy  communion. 

"  Now,  my  child,"  said  the  priest,  in  a  voice  tremulous  with  sympa- 
thy, "you  have  received  the  blessiag  of  God,  and  you  are  prepared  for 
his  coming.  May  he  bo  merciful  to  you,  and  grant  your  prayer  for  re- 
lease from  this  earth.     I,  too,  will  pray  that,  your  martyrdom  be  short." 

"Amen,"  softly  murmured  Isabella. 

"But  the  ways  of  the  Lord  are  inscrutable,  and  it  may  be  that  ho 
willed  it  otherwise.  If  in  His  incomprehensible  wisdom,  He  should  de- 
clare that  your  days  shall  be  long  on  this  earth,  promise  me  to  endure 
Avith  resignation  your  lot,  nor  seek  to  hasten  what  Ho  has  deemed  it  best 
to  delay." 

"  I  promise,  holy  father," 

"Make  a  vow  then  to  the  Lord,  that  by  the  memory  of  your  mother 
3'ou  will  fulfd  every  duty  that  presents  itself  to  you  in  life, 'until  God 
has  spoken  the  word  that  will  call  you  to  himself." 

"I  swear,  by  tlic  memory  of  my  mother,  that  I  will  live  a  life  of  re* 
signation  and  of  usefulness  until  God,  in  hie  mercy,  shall  free  me  from  my 
prison." 

"  Right,  dear  unhappy  child,"  said  the  Father,  smoothing  with  bis 
trembling  hands  the  soft  hair  that  lay  on. either  side  of  her  forehead, 
"may  God  reward  thee  and  In  kis  infinite  mercy  shortcu  thy  sufferings." 


{)4  JOSEPH  THE  SECOND. 

He  stooped,  and  kissing  her  pale  brow,  made  the  sicfn  of  the  cross 
above  her  kneeling  figure.  Then,  with  eyes  blinded  by  tears,  he  slowly- 
retreated  to  his  own  room,  where  he  threw  himself  upon  his  knees  and 
prayed  tliat  God  would  give  strength  to  them  both  to  bear  the  cross  of 
that  dreadful  secret. 

Isabella,  too,  remained  alone.  In  feverish  longing  for  death,  she  sat 
neither  hearing  the  voices  of  her  friends  who  begged  for  admission,  nor 
the  pleadings  of  her  brother,  who  besought  her  to  see  him  and  give  him 
one  last  embrace.  Through  the  long  night  that  followed,  still  kneeling, 
she  prayed.  When  the  sun  rose,  she  murmured  "to-morrow!"  and 
through  the  day  her  fancy  wandered  to  the  verge  of  madness.  Some- 
times visions  of  beckoning  angels  swarmed  around  her;  then  they  fled, 
and  in  their  place  stood  a  hideous  skeleton  that,  with  a  ghastly  smile, 
held  out  his  fleshless  hand,  and  strove  to  clasp  hers. 

Again  the  night  set  in,  and  the  next  morning,  at  break  of  day,  Isabel- 
la rose  from  her  knees,  and,  hailing  the  rising  sun,  she  cried  exultingly, 
"  To-day !" 

Exhausted  from  fasting  and  such  long  vigils,  her  head  reeled,  and  she 
staggered  to  her  couch.  A  cold  shudder  crept  over  her  limbs  ;  all  was 
dark  as  night  about  her ;  she  tried  to  clasp  her  hands  in  prayer,  and' 
could  not,  for  they  were  numb  and  powerless.  "  This  is  welcome  death !" 
thought  she,  and  her  lips  parted  with  a  happy  smile.  Her  head  fell 
backward  on  the  pillow,  and  her  senses  fled. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

THE   AMBASSADOR  EXTRAORDINARY. 

The  Princess  Isabella  opened  her  eyes,  and  in,  their  dark  and  lustrous 
depths,  shone  returning  reason;  they  glared  no  more  with  fever-mad- 
uess,  but  were  sadder  and  sweeter  than  ever. 

She  gazed  at  the  forms  that  surrounded  her  bedside ;  at  the  priest, 
who,  with  folded  hands,  was  praying  at  her  head  ;  at  the  Cameriera,  who 
knelt  beside  him  ;  at  the  young  girls,  who  gathered  in  a  lovely  group  at 
her  feet,  smiled  and  wept  by  turns  as  she  looked  upon  them  ;  and  lastly, 
she  felt  a  kiss  upon  her  hand,  and,  looking  there,  she  beheld  her  brother, 
who  wept  with  joy.    ■ 

"  Where  am  1?"  asked  she  feebly. 

"  You  are  with  those  who  love  you  best,  darling,"  said  Fernando  joy- 
fully, "  with  us,  who  have  prayed  so  long,  that  the  good  God  has  heard, 
and  restored  you  to  life." 


ISABELLA.  65 

"  1  still  live,  then,"  said  she  sadly.  "  And  how  long  have  f  lain  her«, 
friends  ?"  , 

The  priest  .idvauced,  and  blessing  her,  took  her  by  the  hand.  "  For 
four  weeks,  daughter,  you  have  been  unconscious  of  every  thing  that 
passed  around  you.  You  see,  therefore,  that  your  Heavenly  Father  bids 
you  live." 

"  Four  weeks,"  whispered  the  poor  girl.  *'  Then  in  three  months  -we 
shall  meet  again." 

She  closed  her  eyes,  and  lay  silent  for  a  while.  At  length,  the  priett 
bending  close  to  her  car,  whispered,  "  Think,  daughter,  of  the  vows  you 
have  made  to  God  by  the  memory  of  your  mother!" 

"I  will  remember  them,"  murmured  she,  sadly. 

And  from  this  day  she  mended,  until  life  and  strength  were  restored  to  her, 
even  as  before.  Sh'e  thought  of  her  vow,  and  made  no  resistance  to  the 
will  of  Heaven,  but  she  hoped  for  death,  and  awaited  her  three  months ! 

Sustained  by  these  hopes,  she  recover6(W  But  her  heart  was  wounded 
past  all  cure;  gone  were  her  smiles  and  her  songs.  Quietly,  sadly,  and 
solemnly,  glided  away  the  new  life  to  which  she  had  been  born  through 
death. 

The  first  day  on  which  she  felt  able  to  leave  her  room,  she  sent  to 
crave  an  audience  of  her  father.  She  had  been  told  that,  during  her  de- 
lirium, he  had  often  visited  her  chamber;  but,  since  her  convalescence, 
he  had  not  sent  so  much  as  an  enquiry  after  her  health. 

He  did  not,  however,  deny  the  interview  she  sought.  He  awaited  his 
daughter,  said  the  messenger,  in  his  own  apartments. 

The  Princess  shuddered,  and  a  deadly  faintness  came  over  her.  *'My 
God!  my  God !  will  I  ever  be  able  to  go  through  this  bitter  hour! 
Must  I  indeed  look  upon  him  who " 

She  closed  her  eyes  to  shut  out  the  frightful  remembrance.  Then 
gathering  all  her  strength  for  the  trial,  she  rose  to  seek  her  father,  and 
make  one  last  request  of  him. 

"With  her  head  thrown  proudly  back,  and  her  dark  eyes  flashing  with 
resolve,  she  entered  his  cabinet. 

The  Duke  was  entirely  alone.  He  had  dismissed  his  attendants,  and 
now  he  stood  in  the  centre  of  the  room  awaiting  his  daughter  in  gloomy 
silence.  His  cold,  stern  features,  had  grown  more  repulsive  than  ever 
to  the  unhappy  girl ;  his  piercing  eyes  more  revengeful ;  his  thin,  pale 
lips,  more  cruel.  He  seemed  to  her  a  pitiless  stranger,  and  she  could 
not  advance  to  meet  him.  Powerless  and  faint,  she  stood  at  the  door, 
all  her  strength  gone. 

A  few  moments  of  anguish  went  by,  and  then  the  Duke,  extending, 
his-hand,  said  in  a  tone  of  command,  "  come  hither,  Isabella." 

She  stepped  forward  and  almost  touched  his  hand  when',  shuddering, 
her  arm  dropped  heavily  down,  and  forgetting  all  caution,  she  murmur- 
ed, in  tones  of  deepest  agony,   "  I  cannot !  I  cannot?" 

The  Duke's  eyes  shot  fire,  as  he  too  dropped  his  extended  hand,  and 
deep,  angry  folds  wrinkled  his  forehead. 


66  JOSEPH  THE  SECOND 

"  Why  have  you  desired  this  interview  ?"   asked  he. 

"  I  have  a  request  to  prefer,  my  father,"  replied  Isabella. 

He  bent  his  head.     "Speak,"  said  he — 

— "  I  come  to  entreat  of  my  father  permission  to  take  the  veil." 

"And  wherefore,  I  should  like  to  know  ?"  said  the  Duke,  carelessly. 

— "That  I  may  dedicate  ray  few  remaining  days  to  the  service  of  the 
Lord." 

"Girlish  folly,"  said  he,  with  a  contemptuous  laugh,  while  he  paced 
up  and  down  the  room. 

Isabella  made  no  reply,  but  'stood  awaiting  a  more  direct  answer  to 
her  petition.     Suddenly,  he  came  up  to  her  and  spoke. 

"  I  fcanuot  grant  your  request,"  said  he.  "  I  have  other  plans  for  you. 
The  grandchild  of  the  King  of  Spain  cannot  be  permitted  to  die  a  peni- 
tent in  a  cloister ;  if  she  has  atonement  to  make  for  crime,  let  her  make 
it,  not  under  the  serge  of  the  nun,  but  under  the  purple  of  the  Empress." 

"  I  have  no  ambition,"  sal8  Isabella,  trembling.  "Allow  me,  I  en- 
treat  you,  to  enter  a  Convent." 

— "  I  repeat  that  I  have  other  plans  for  you.     I  too,  have  no  ambition 
for  you^''  said  the  father,  coldly,  "but  I  am  ambitious  for  my  house,  and  . 
through  you  I  shall  attain  ray  end.     One  of  the  greatest  monarchs'  of 
Europe  has  sought  your  hand  for  the  heir  of  her  throne,  and  I  have  re- 
solved that  you  shall  become  his  wife." 

— "  Fate  will  refuse  it  to  him  ;  fate,  more  merciful  than  my  father. 
I  have  but  a  few  weeks  to  live;  before  a  month  has  elapsed,  I  shall  be 
in  my  grave." 

"Go  there,  if  it  please  you,"^  cried  the  Duke,  "but  die  with  royal 
robes  ;ibout  you  !     You  shall  not  die  a  nun.'' 

"  No  one  on  earth,  my  father,  has  a  right  to  detain  me.  1  f  your  High- 
ness refuse  your  consent,  I  will  fly  to  a  convent,  without  your  permissiou. 
And  princely  though  you  be,  you  shall  not  drag  from  the  altar  the  bride 
of  the  Lord." 

"  Ah,  you  rebel  against  my  authority !"  cried  the  Duke,  with  a  look 
that  sent  a  deadly  pang  to  the  heart  of  his  daughter.  Know  that  I  have 
power  to  judge  you  for  such  treason,  and  lay  your  defiant  head  upon  the 
bloctl" 

"I  do  not  fear  death,"  replied  Isabella,  "I  await  it  with  impatience." 

— -"  Ah  !  You  are  possessed  with  a  love-sick  desire  to  die ! — But  hear 
■what  I  have  to  say,  and  mark  it  well.  1  will  relate  to  you  an  affair  that 
took  place — whilst  you  were  ill.  The  only  son  of  one  of  the  noblest 
families  in  Parma,  the  pride  of  his  race,  and  the  idol  of  his  parents,  con- 
ceived a  plot  against  my  house,  whose  treason  was  equal  to  parracide. 
I  learned  his  designs  ;  and  with  my  own  eyes,  and  my  own  ears,  I  veri- 
fied his  guilt.  He|was  an  arch-traitor,  he  had  deserved  to  die  on  the 
scaffold ;  but  I  had  pity  on  his  family,  and  spared  them  the  disgrace  of 
a  public  execution.  I  look  his  life  secretly,  and  his  parents  are  spared 
the  shame  of  knowing  how  he  died.  Shall  I  tell  you  the  name  (k  thisi 
dead  traitor  1" 


ISABELLA.  (J7 

—  Isabella  raised  her  hand,  and  parting  her  blanched  lips,  she  said 
hoarsely,  "No — no — in  mercy,  no !" 

"  Very  well,  then  I  proceed.  This  traitor  whom  I  judged,  and  to  whQm 
I  dealt  his  death-stab,  had  an  accomplice.     Do  you  listen  f 

Isabella's  head  sank  down,  like  a  broken  lily,  upon  her  breast. 

"  Ah  !  You  listen.  The  accomplice  is  placed  in  a  position  which 
makes  it— inexpedient  for  me  to  punish  her  in  her  own  person.  But 
should  she  thwart  me,  should  she  not  fidly  and  cheerfully  comply  with 
my  demands  upon  her  loyalty,  I  will  see  that  she  suffers  more  than  death 
Jn  the  family  of  her  accomplice.  I  will  publish  the  guilt  of  the  dead 
criminal  to  the  whole  world  ;  I  will  disgrace  and  dishonor  his  whole  race 
and  his  young  sister  with  her  parents,  shall  be  driven  penniless  from  my 
realms,  to  beg  or  starve  in  a  stranger  land." 

"  Father,  hold !"  cried  the  wretched  girl,  while  her  every  limb  qui- 
vered  with  the  torture  he  inflicted.  "1  am  ready  to  do  your  will.  I 
will  marry  whom  you  choose,  and  so  long  as  God  condemns  me  to 
earth,  I  will  obey  you  in  all  things.     But  you  shall  promise  me  on  your 

princely  honor  to  shield  from  all  shame  or  harm,  the  family  of-r-of 

the  deceased ;  to  befriend  his  sister,  and  if  she  should  ever  wish  to  mar- 
ry, to  hoflor  and  favor  her  choice.  Promise  me  this,  and  as  long  as  I 
live  I  submit  to  your  will." 

— "  1  promise,  on  my  honor,  to  do  all  this,  and  to  forget,  for  their 
sakes,  the  crime  of  their  son." 

"  I  promise  also,  on  my  safcred  honor,  to  accept  the  husband  you  have 
chosen  for  me.     But  I  will  not  suffer  long,  for  my  life  is  almost  spent." 

The  Duke  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"Your  Highness,"  continued  his  daughter,  "will  inform  me  on  what 
day  I  am  to  be  affianced.  I  await  your  commands,  and  beg  your  High- 
,ness's  permission  to  withdraw  to  my  apafrtments." 

"  Have  you  nothing  more  to  say  to  your  father,  Isabella  ?"  asked  he 
in  a  faltering  voice.  .  . 

"  Nothin!5  more  to  say  to  your  royal  Highness."  She  curtsied  deep- 
]y,  and  without  a  glance  at  her  father,  left  tjje  room. 

The  Duke  looked  after  her  with  an  expression  of  sorrow.  "I  have 
lost  her  forever !"  said  he.  "  When  I  struck  him,  I  pierced  her  heart 
also.  Well!  so  let  it  be!  Better  a  dead  child  than  a  dishonored 
house !" 

He  then  rang  a  little  golden  bell,  and  (Ordered  preparations  to  be 
made  for  another  grand  hunt  on  the  morrow. 

Isabella  accepted  her  destiny  nobly.  She  resolved  to  fulfill  her  pro- 
mises strictly ;  but  she  hoped  that  God  would  be  satisfied  with  the  sa- 
crifice,  and  release  her  before  the  day  of  her  nuptials. 

Finally  came  the  day  on  which,  for  the  third  time,  she  had  hoped  to 
die.  She  felt  a  solemn  joy  steal  over  her  heart,  and  she  desired  her 
maids  of  honor  to  deck  her  in  bridal  white.  Her  dark  hair  was  wreath- 
ed with  orange-blossoms,  and  in  her  bosom  she'  wore  an  orange-bud. 
She  was  lovely  beyond  expression,  and  her  attendants  whispered  among 


68  JOSEPH  THE  SECOND  , 

rtiemselves,  though  Isabella  neither  saw  nor  heard  them.  She  who 
awaited  death,  took  no  heed  of  what  was  going  on  around  her  in  the 
palace. 

And  yet  her  stake  in  that  palace  was  great.  On  the  day  before,  the 
Embassy  had  arrived  which  was  to  change  her  fate,  and  open  to  her  a 
new  life  at  the  Court  of  the  Austrian  Empress. 

The  Duke  had  received  his  guests  with  royal  courtesy.  But  he  had 
besought  the  Count  to  postpone  his  interview  with  the  ^Princess  until 
the  morrow;  for  with  cruel  mockery  of  his  child's  sorrow,  Philip  of 
Parma  had  contrived  that  the  day  on  which  she  had  hoped  to  meet  her 
dead  lover,  should  be  the  day  of  her  betrothal  to  the  Archduke  of  Aus- 
tria. 

Isabella  was  the  only  person  in  the  palace  who  had  not  heard  of  the 
arrival.  She  had  withdrawn  into  her  private  cabinet,  and  there  she 
counted  every  pulsation  of  her  heart.  She  dared  not  hope  to  die  a  na- 
tural death;  she  was  looking  forward  to  some  accident  -that  was  to  re- 
lease her  from  life ;  something  direct  from  the  hand  of  God  she  thought 
would,  on  that  day,  make  good  the  prophecy  of  her  lover. 
'i  She  hoped,  watched,  prayed.  She  was  startled  from  her  solitude  by 
a  knocking  at  the  door,  and  her  father's  voice  called  for  admission. 

The  Princess,  obedient  to  her  promise,  rose  and  opened  the  door. 
Her  father  surveyed  her  with  a  smile  of  derision.  "  You  have  done 
well,"  said  he,  "  to  deck  yourself  as  a  bride ;  not  as  the  bride  of  Death, 
"Kut  as  the  affiance  wife  of  the  livincf  lover  who  will  one  day  make  you 
Empress  of  Austria.  His  Ambassador  awaits  us  now  in  the  great  Hall 
of  State.  Follow  me  into  the  next  room,  where  your  maids  of  honor 
are  assembled  to  attend  you.  Mark  me,  Isabella!  When  we  arrive 
in  the  hall,  the  Ambassador  will  advance,  and  in  terms  befitting  the  ho- 
nor conferred,  he  will  request  your  acceptance  of  the  Archduke's  hand. 
I  leave  it  to  your  tact  and  discretion  to  answer  him  as  becomes  the 
Princess  of  a  great  and  royal  house." 

"And  will, your  Highness  perform  your  promise  to  meT'  asked  Isa- 
bella calmly.  "  Shall  his  parents  live  secure  in  possession  of  their  noble 
name  and  estates ;  and  shall  his  sister  be  the  special  object  of  your  High- 
ness's  protection  and  favor  ?" 

"  I  will  do  all  this,  provided  you  give  me  satisfaction  as  relates  to 
your  marriage." 

Isabella  bowed.  "  Then  I  am  ready  to  accompany  your  royal  High- 
ness to  the  hall  of  state,  and  to  accept  with  courtesy  the  offer  of  the 
Austrian  Ambassador." 

Forth  went  the  beautiful  martyr  and  her  train  through  the  gorgeous 
apartments  of  the  palace,  until  they  reached  the  hall  of  the  throne. 

In  the  centre  of  the  hall,  the  Duke  left  his  daughter  and  her  attend- 
ants, while  he  mounted  the  throne  and  took  his  seat  upon  the  ducal  chair. 

And  now  advanced  Count  Bathiany.  Withrall  the  fervor  which  her 
matchless  beauty  inspired,  he  begged  of  the  Princess  her  fair  hand  for 
his  future  Sovereign,  the  Archduke  of  Austria.    As  the  Count  ceased, 


ISABELLA,  69 

every  eyo,  turned  towards  the  Inf»nta.  She  had  listened  with  calm  <^ig- 
iiiiy  to  the  words  of  the  Aml)asisador,  and  her  large,  melancholy  ey^s 
had  been  rivetted  upon  his  flice,  while  he  delivered  his  errand.  There 
was  a  pause — a  few  moments  were  needed  by  that  broken  heart  to  hush 
its  meanings,  and  bare  itself  for  the  sacrifice.  The  brow  of  the  Duke 
darkened,  and  he  was  about  to  interpose,  when  he  saw  his  dau^htei*  bow 
her  head.  Then  she  spoke  ;  and  every  one  bent  forward  to  listen  to 
the  silvery  tones  of  her  voice. 

"  I  feel  deeply  honored,"  said  she,  "  by  the  preference  of  her  Imperial 
Majesty  of  Austria ;  an  alliance  with  her  eldest  son  is  above  my  de- 
serts ;  but  since  it  is  their  desire,  I  accept  the  great  honor  conferred  up- 
on me.  I  regret,  however,  that  their  Majesties  should  have  directed 
their  choice  towards  me;  for  I  am  convinced  that  I  shall  not  live  long 
enough  to  fulfill  the  destiny  to  which  this  marriage  calls  me."* 

When  at  last  the  ceremonies  of  this  day  of  agony  were  ended;  when 
the  Infanta  had  dismissed  her  ladies  of  honor,  and  was  once  more  alone 
— alone  with  God  and  with  the  past,  she  threw  herself  upon  her  couch> 
and,  with  her  hands  meekly  folded  across  her  breast,  she  lay,  looking  up, 
far  beyond  the  palace-dome  to  Heaven. 

There  she  prayed  until  midnight,  and  when  the  clock  had  told  the  hour, 
she  arose  to  the  new  life  that  awaited  her,  with  its  new  promises,  new 
expectations,  new  ties — but  no  new  hopes. 

"  Heavenly  Father,"  exclaimed  she,  "it  has  begun,  and  I  will  bear  it 
to  the  bitter  end  !  I  am  now  the  betrothed,  and  soon  will  be  the  wife 
of  another.  If  I  have  sinned  in  my  consent  to  marry  one  whom  I  can 
nover  love,  pardon  me,  oh  Lord  !  and  hear  me  vow  that  I  will  faithfully 
fulfill  my  duty  towards  him.  I  am  the  affianced  of  another  !  Farewell, 
my  beloved,  farewell,  fou  tureb  long  years! 


CHAPTER  XV. 

THE  DREAM  OF  LOVE. 

^  Thr  wedding-festival  was  over,  and  Vienna  was  resting  from  the  fa- 
tigue of  the  brilliant  entertainments  by  which  the  marriage  of  the  Arch- 
duke had  been  followed,  both  in  court  and  city.  And  indeed  the  rejoic- 
ings had  been  conducted  with  imperial  magnificence.  For  eight  dayg, 
the  people  of  Vienna,  without  respect  of  rank,  had  been  admitted  to  the 
palace,  to  witness  the  court  festivities ;  while  in  the  city  and  at  Schon- 

*  The  Infanta'8  ovn  words ;  m  rerltal.ly  hustorical  a«  Is  tlilg  whol«  relation  af  her  d«ath-i)roi>he- 
ey  and  It*  unhappy  folDllraent.    See  Wraxall,  Mf  raoir*  of  th*  Courts,  Ac,  and  Caroltae  Pichler. 


70  JOSEPJJ  THE  SECON]). 

brunn,  nightly  balls  were  given  at  the  expense  of  the  Empress,  where 
the  happy  Viennese  danced  and  feasted  to  their  heart's  coiitent." 

They  had  returned  the  bounty  of  their  Sovereign  by  erecting  triumph- 
al arches,  strewing  the  ground  with  flowers,  and  rending  the  air  with 
shouts,  whenever  the  young  Archduchess  had  appeared  in  the  streets. 

The  great  maestro  Gluck  had  composed  an  Opera  for  the  occasion  ; 
and  when,  on  the  night  of  its  representation,  the  Empress  made  her  ap- 
pearance in  the  imperial  fo^e,  followed  by  the  Archduke  and  his  bride, 
the  enthusiasm  of  the  people  was  so  great  that  Gluck  waited  a  quarter 
of  an  hour,  baton  in  hand,  before  he  could  begin  his  overture. 

But  now  the  jubilee  was  over,  tlie  shouts  were  hushed,  the  people  had 
returned  to  their  accustomed  routine  of  life,  and  the  exchequer  of  the 
Empress  was  minus — one  million  of  florins  ! 

The  Court  had. withdrawn  to  the  palace  of  Schonbrunn,  there  to  enjoy 
in  privacy  the  last  golden  days  of  autumn,  as  well  as  to  afford  to  the 
newly-married  pair  a  taste  of  that  retirement  so  congenial  to  lovers. 

Maria  Theresa,  always  munificent,  had  devoted  one  wing  of  the  palace 
to  the  exclusive  use  of  her  young  daughter-in-law;  and  her  apartments 
were  fitted  up  with  the  last  degree  of  splendor.  Elegant  mirrors,  buhl 
and  gilded  furniture,  costly  turkey  carpets  and  exquisite  paintings, 
adorned  this  princely  hoine;  and  as  the  Princess  was  known  to  be  skill- 
ed both  as  a  painter  and  musician,  one  room  was  fitted  up  for  her  as  a 
studio,  and  another  as  a  music-hall. 

From  the  music-room,  a  glass  door  led  to  a  balcony  filled  with  rare 
and  beautiful  flowers.  This  balcony  overlooked  the  park,  and  beyond 
was  seen  the  city,  made  lovely  by  the  soft  grey  veil  of  distance,  which 
lends  such  beauty  to  a  landscape. 

On  this  perfumed  balcony  sat  the  youthful  pair.  Isabella  reclined  in 
an  arm-chair;  and  at  her  feet  on  a  low  ottoman  sat  Joseph,  looking  up 
into  her  face,  his  eyes  beaming  with  happiness.  It  wa^  a  lovely  sight- 
that  of  these  two  young  creatures,  who,  in  the  sweet,  still  evening,  sat 
together,  unveiling  to  one  another,  the  secrets  of  two  blameless  hearts, 
and  forgetting  rank,  station  and  the  world,  were  tasting  the  pure  joys  of 
happily  wedded  love. 

The  evening  breeze  whispered  Nature's  soft  low  greeting  to  them  both ; 
and  through  the  myrtle  branches  that,  hanging  over  the  balcony,  clus- 
tered around  Isabella's  head,  the  setting  sun  flung  showers  of  gold  that 
lit  up  her  face  with  the  glory  of  an  angel.  Bfight  as  an  angel  seemed 
she  to  her  husband,  who  sitting  at  her  feet  gazed  enraptured  upon  her. 
How  graceful  he  thought  the  contour  of  her  oval  face ;  how  rich  the 
scarlet  of  her  lovely  mouth;  what  noble  thoughts  were  written  on  her 
pale  and  lofty  brow,  and  how  glossy  were  the  masses  of  her  raven  black 
hair.  And  those  wondrous  eyes !  Dark  and  light,  lustrous  and  dim,  at 
one  moment  they  flashed  with  intellect,  at  another  they  glittered  with 
unshed  tears.  Her  form,  too,  w^as  slender  and  graceful,  for  nature  had 
denied  her  nothing ;  and  the  charm  of  her  appearance,  (above  all  to  an 
eye  weary  of  splendor,)  was  made  complete  by  the  vapory  muslin  dress 


ISABELLA.  •      71 

that  fell  around  her  perfect  figure  like  a  silver-white  cloud.  The  only 
ornament  that  flecked  its  snow,  was  a  bunch  of  pink  roses,  which  the 
Archduke,  with  his  own  hand,  had  culled  for  his  wife  that  morning.  She 
wore  them  in  her  bosom,  and  they  were  the  crowning  beauty  of  that  sim- 
ple, elegant  dress.  ^ 

Isabella's  head  rested  among  the  myrtle  branches ;  her  eyes-  were 
fixed  with  a  look  of  ineflable  sadness  upon  the  heaven?,  and  gradnally 
the  smile  had  died  from  her  lips.  Her  countenance  contrasted  singular- 
ly with  that  of  the  Archduke.  Since  his  marriage  he  had  grown  hand- 
somer than  ever;  and  from  his  bright  expressive  face  beamed  the  silent 
eloquence  of  a  young  and  joyful  existence. 

In  his  joy,  he  did  not  see  the  painful  shadows  that  were  darkening  his 
^vife's  pale  beauty.  For  a  while,  a  deep  stillness  was  about  them — 
flooded  by  the  gold  of  the  setting  sun,  lay  the  park  at  their  feet ;  farther 
off  glimmered  ihe  domes  of  St.  Stephens,  at  Vienna,  and  faint  over  the 
evening  air  came  the  soothing  tones  of  the  ve?per-bell. 

"  How  beautiful  is  the  world,"  said  Joseph  at  length ;  and  at  the 
sound  of  his  voice,  breaking  suddenly  the  stillness  that  had  been  so  con- 
genial to  her  reveries,  Isabella  started.  A  slight  shiver  ran  through  her 
frame,  and  her  eyes  unwillingly  came  back  to  earth.  He  did  not  bee  it. 
"Oh  how  lovely  is  life,  my  Isabella,  now  that  the  music  of  thy  heart  Re- 
plies to  mine.  Never  has  earth  seemed  to  me  so  full  of  beauty,  as  it 
does  now  that  I  call  thee  wife." 

Isabella  laid  her  soft  hand  upon  her  husband's  head,  and  looked  at  him 
for  a  VIuIq.  At  length  she  stifled  a  sigh,  and  said,  "are  you  then  hap- 
py?" 

He  drew  down  the  little  hand  that  was  resting  on  his  blond  curls,  and 
kissed  it  fervently.  "A  boon,  my  beloved.  When  we  are  alone,  let 
us  banish  Spanish  formality  from  our  intercourse.  Be  the  ftiture  Em- 
press before  the  world,  but  to  me  be  ray  wife,  and  call  me  'thou.'  " 

"I  will,"  replied  she,  blushing.  "And  I  repeat  my  question, art  thou 
happy,  my  husband." 

"  I  will  tell  thee,  dearest.  There  seems  within  me  such  a  flood  of 
melody  seeking  voice,  that  sometimes,  for  very  ecstacy,  I  feel  as  if  I 
must  shout  aloud  all  the  pent-up  joy  that  other  men  have  frittered  away 
from  boyhood,  and  I  have  garnered  up  for  this  hour.  Again  I  feel  in- 
toxicated with  happiness  and  fear  that  I  am  dreaming.  I  tremble  lest 
some  rude  hand  awake  me,  and  I  look  aronnd  for  proof  of  my  sober, 
waking  bliss.  I  find  it,  and  then  breaks  forth  my  soul  in  hosannas  to 
God.  And  when  mingling  among  nien,  I  see  a  face  that  looks  sad  or 
pale,  I  feel  such  sympathy  for  him  who  is  less  happy  than  I,  that  I  make 
vows,  when  I  am  Emperor,  to  heal  all  sorrow,  and  wipe  away  all  tears. 
Then  come  great  and  noble  aspirations,  and  I  long  to  give  back  to  my 
people  the  blessings  with  which  they  greeted  thee,  my  own  Isabella. 
This  is-not  one  feeling,  but  the  meeting  of  many.  Is  it  happiness,  dear- 
est?" 

"  I  cannot  tell,"  replied  she.     "  For  happiness  is  a  thing  so  heavenly 


72      *  JOSEPH  THE  SECOND. 

in  its  nature,  that  one  hardly  dares  to  give  it  a  name,  lest  it  take  fright, 
and  soar  back  to  its  home  above  the  skies.  Let  us  not  press  it  too 
closely,  lest  we  seek  it,  and  it  be  gone." 

"  We  shall  do  as  it  pieases  thee,"  said  Joseph,,  snatchinej  her  two 
hands,  and  pressing  them  to  his  heart.  "I  know  that  when  thou  art  by, 
happiness  is  here,  and  she  cannot  go  back  to  Heaven,  unless  she  take 
thee  too."  And  again  he  looked  at  his  wife,  as  if  he  would  fain  have 
blended  their  dual  being  into  one. 

"  I  wish  to  make  thee  a  confession,  Isabel,"  resumed  he.  "It  is  a  great 
crime,  dearest,  but  thou  wilt  give  me  absolution,  !•  know.  As  I  look 
back,  I  can  scarce  believe  it  myself,  but — hear.  When  the  Empress 
gave  me  thy  miniature,  beautiful  though  it  was,  I  gave  my  consent  to 
marry,  but  my  heart  was  untouched.  When  Count  Bathiauy  departed 
on  his  mission,  I  prayed  that  every  ^bstacle  might  encumber  his  ad- 
vance ;  and  oh  !  my  beloved  one !  when  I  heard  that  thou  wert  coming, 
I  almost  wished  thee  buried  under  Alpine  avalanches.  When  I  was  told 
of  thine  arrival,  I  longed  to  fly  away  from  Vienna,  from  rank  and  royal- 
ty, to  some  secluded  spot,  where  no  reasons  of  state  policy  would  force 
ine  to  give  my  hand  to  an  unknown  bride.  Was  1  not  a  barbarian, 
sweetest,  was  I  not  an  arch-traitor  1 

"  No,  thou  wert  only.a  boy-prince,  writhing  under  the  heavy  load  of 
thy  royalty." 

"  No,  I  was  a  criminal ;  but  oh,  how  I  have  expiated  my  sin  !  When 
I  saw  thee,  my  heart  leaped  into  life;  and  now  it  trembles  lest  thou  lovo 
not  me  !  But  thou  wilt  love  me,  wilt  thou  not  1  Thou  who  hast  made 
me  so  happy  that  I  wish  I  had  a  hundred  hearts ;  for  one  is  not  enough 
to  contain  the  love  I  feel  for  thee  !"* 

Isabella  was  gazing  at  him  with  a  melancholy  smile.  "  Dreamer !" 
said  she,  in  a  low  trembling  tone,  that  sounded  to  Joseph  like  heaven, 
ly  music.  "  Dreamer !  the  heart  that  througli  God's  goodness  is  filled 
with  love,  is  of  itself  supernaturally  magnified  ;  for  Love  is  a  revejation 
from  Heaven." 

"  Sweet  priestess  of  Love !  How  truly  thou  art  the  intorpretor  of  our 
passion  !  For  it  is  ottrs^  my  Isabella,  is  it  not  1  It  is  our  love  of  which 
we  speak,  not  mine  alone  !  I  have  confessed  to  thee  ;  now  do  the  same 
by  me.  Tell  me,  my  wife,  did'st  thou  hate  the  man  to  whom  thy  pas- 
sive hand  was  given,  without  one  thought  of  thee  or  of  thy  heart's  predi- 
lections ! 

How  little  he  guessed  what  torture  he  inflicted  !  He  looked  into  her 
eyes,  with  such  trusting  ftiith,  with  such  calm  security  of  happiness,  that 
her  sweet  face  beamed  with  tender  pity,  while  her  cheeks  deepened  into 
scarlet  blushes,  as  she  listened  to  his  passionate  declarations  of  love. 
Poor  Isabella ! 

"  No,"  said  she,  "  no,  I  never  hated  thee,  Joseph.  I  had^lready  heard 
enough  to  feel  esteem  for  my  future  husband  ,  and,  therefore,  I  did  not 

hate,  I  pitied  him. _ 

*  Theie  are  hi$  own  words.    Csroccioli,  Life  of  Joseph  II. 


— "  Pity  him,  my  own,  and  wherefore  ]" 

"  Because  witliout  consulting  hif^  heart,  he  was  affianced  to  an  unknown 
girl,  unworthy  to  be  the  partner  of  his  brilliant  destiny.  Poor  Isabella 
of  Parma  was  never  made  to  be  an  Emptees,  Joseph," 

— ■"  She  was,  she  was  !  She  is  fit  to  be.  Empress  of  the  world,  for  all 
poetry,  all  goodness,  all  intellect  and  beauty  look  out  from  the  depths  of 
her  lustrous  eyes!  O,  look  upon  me,  star  of  my  life,  and  promise  to 
guide  me  ever  vwth  thy  holy  light ! 

So  saying,  he  took  her  in  his  arms,  and  pressed  her  to  his  tender,  man- 
ly heart.  "  Promise  me,  beloved,"  whispered  ho,  "promise  never  to 
leave  me." 

•'  I  promise,"  said  the  pale  wife,  "  never  to  forsake  thee  until  God  calls 
me  hence  to " 

*'0h!  interrupted  Joseph,  "  may  that  hour  never  strike  till  I 'be  in 
Heaven  to  receive  thee;  for  love  is  selfish,  Isaliclla;  and  my  daily 
prayer  is  now,  that  thy  dear  hand  may  close  my  eyes !" 

"  God  will  not  hear  that  prayer,  Joseph,"  replied  Isabella;  and  as  she 
spoke,  her  head  s^ank  upon  his  shoulder  and  her  long  hair  fell  from  its 
fastening  and  like  a  heavy  mourning  veil  shrouded  them  both.  Her 
husband  held  her  close  to  his  heart,  and  as  he  kissed  her  she  felt  his  tears 
drop  upon  her  cheek. 

"  I  do  not  know,"  said  he,  *'  why  it  is,  but  I  feel  sometimes  as  if  a 
tempest  were  gathering  above  my  head.  And  yet,  the  heavens  are 
cloudless,  the  sun  has  set,  an(>  see !  the  moon  rises,  looking  in  her  palo 
beauty,  even  as  thou  dost,  my  love.  She  has  borrowed  loveliness  from 
thee  to-night,  for  surely  she  was  never  so  fair  before.  But  all  seems 
lovely  to  me  when  thou  art  near,  and  I  think  that  perchance — thoulovest 
me.     Tell  me,  Isabella,  tell  me,  dearest,  that  thou  dost  love  me." 

She  raised  her  head,  and  met  his  passionate  gaze  with  a  look  so  sad 
that' his  heart  grew  cold  with  apprehension.  Then  her  eyes  turned  heav- 
enwards, and  her  lips  moved.     He  knew  that  she  was  praying. 

But  why,  at  such  a  moment? 

"  Tell  me  the  truth,"  cried  he  vehemently,  **  tell  me  the  truth  !" 

"I  cannot  answer  thee  in  ^7ords,"  murmured  Isabella,  "but  thou  shalfc 
have  music — love's  own  interpretef.  Come,  let  us  go  into  the  music- 
room."  And  light  as  a  fairy,  she  tripped  before,  opening  herself  the 
door,  though  he  strove  to  prevent  her. 

— "  No,  this  is  my  temple,  and  my  hands  unclose  the  doors,"  said  she, 
once  more  self-possessed. 

Her  husband  followed  her,  enchanted.  She  looked  around  at  the  va- 
rious instruments,  and  struck  a  few  chords  on  the  piano. 

— "  No— this  is  too  earthly — my  own  favorite  instrument  shall  speak 
for  me." 

So  saying,  she  opened  a  case  that  lay  on  the  table,  and  took  from  it  a 
violin,  "This,"  said  she  to  her  husband,  "  is  the  violin  that  ca^ip  with 
me  from  Italy."  ^ 


74  JUSEPfl  THK  SECOND. 

"How,  Isabel,"  exclaimed  he,  "dost  thou  play  on  my  favorite  instru- 
ment'?"  *> 

"The  violin,  to  me,  is  dear  above  all  instruments,"  replied  she;  "it 
alone,  has  tones  that  respond  to  those  of  the  human  heart."* 

With  indescribable  grace, 'she  raised  the  violin  to  heT  shoulder,  and 
began  to  play.  At  first,  her  chords  were  light  and  airy  as  the  sounds 
fronx  an  iEolian  harp ;  then  tlie  melody  swelled  until  it  broke  into  a 
gush  of  harmony  that  vibrated  through  every  chord  of  iihe  Archduke's 
iK-ating  heart.  As  he  stood  breathless  and  entranced,  she  seemed  to  him 
like  that  picture,  by  Fiesole,  of  the  angel  that  comforts  the  dying.  This 
piciure  had  always  been,  above  all  others,  the  Archduke's  favorite,  and 
now  it  stood  embodied  before  him,  a  living,  breathing  divinity. 

The  music  died  away  to  his  ear,  though  still  s^e  played  ;  but  now,  it 
seemed  to  stream  from  her  eyes,  that  shone  me  luminous  stars,  and 
flow  from  her.  softly  moving  lips,  that  whispered  to  the  spiiits,  which 
now  low,  now  loud,  laughed,  sighed  or  sobbed  out  their  responses  from 
the  magic  violin. 

Isabella  was  no  longer  a  woman  and  his  wife.  She  was  a  glorified 
spirit ;  and  now  he  trembled  lest  his  angel  should  vanish,  and  leave  hirn 
nothing  but. the  memory  of  a  heavenly  vision.  His  eyes  filled  with 
tears  ;  a  convulsive  sigh  broke  from  his  breast,  and,  burying  his  face  iu 
his  hands;  he  sank  down  upon  the  sofa. 

A  light  shudder  run  through  Isabella's  f^ame ;  her  eyes,  which  had 
wandered  far,  far  beyond  the  portals  that  shut  us  out  from  Heaven,  look- 
ed wildly  around.  Her  husband's  sigh  had  awakened  her  from  a  bliss- 
ful dream,  and  once  more  her  weary  heart  sank  desolate  to  the  earth. 
But  with  an  expression  of  tenderest  pity,  she  turned  towards  him  and 
smiled.  Then  her'music  changed  ;  it  pealed  out  in  rich  harmotvy,  fit  for 
anortal  ears.  She  saw  her  complete  mastery  over  the  Archduke's  soul, 
his  eyes  grew  bright  and  joyful  once  more,  and  from  his  countenance 
beamed  the  light  of  peffect  contentment.  w 

"Our  Epitiialamium  !"  exclaimed  he,  overjoyed,  and  no  longer  able, 
to  control  his  exultation,  he  darted  from  his  seat,  and  clasped  the  dear 
musician  in  his  arms. 

"I  thank  thee,  my  Isabella,"  said  he,  with  a  voice  that  trembled  with 
excess  of  happiness.  "Yes,  this  is  the  voice  of  love  ;  thou  hast  answer- 
ed me  with  our  wedding-song.  In  this  melody  is  drowned  every  bitter 
remembrance  of  m.y  life  ;  the  discords  of  the  past  have  melted  into  rich- 
est harmony, — for  thou  return'st  my  love.  A  thousand  times,  I  thank 
thee;  this  hour  is  sacred  to  me  forever!"  ♦        ' 

"Thou  hast  said  that  thou  lovest  me."  continued  the  happy  husband, 
"  and  now  I  feel  the  power  and  strength  of  a  god.  I  am  ready  for  the 
battle  of  life." 

— "  But  I  think  that  I  saw  the  god  weep.  Poor  mortal  friend,  gods 
shed  no  tears;  tears  are  the  baptism  of  humanity."  _ 

*  The  Infanta,  who  played  on  several  instruments,  excelled  on  the  violin.    Wraxall,  II.  page  C90. 


ISABELLA.  75 

"  Oh,  gods  must  weep  for  joy,  Isabella,  else  they  could  not  feel  its 
perfection." 

"  May  Heaven  grant  that  thou  weep  no  other  tears,"  said  the  wife, 
solcnnnly.  "  But  hear,"  continued  slie,  raising  her  little  hand,  "  the  pal- 
aco-clock  strikes  eight,  and  we  promised  her  Majesty  to  spend  this  even- 
in'^  with  the  imperial  family-circle.  We  must  be  punctual,  and  I  have 
scarcely  time  to  dress." 

•  It  Why,  wilt  thou  change  that  sweet  simple  dress  1  Art  thou  not  al- 
ways the  pride  of  the  Court?  Come — thy  muslin  and  roses  will  shame 
all  the  silk  and  jewels  of  my  sisters.    Come  !" 

She  laid  her  hand  gently  upon  the  arra  that  drew  her  forward,  and 
curtsied  before  him  with  mock  ceremony. 

*'  My  lord  and  husband*,"  said  she,  laughing,  "  although  your  imperial 
Highness  has  banished  Madam  Etiquette  trom  our  balcony,  remember 
that  she  stands  grimly  awaiting  us  by  yonder  door,  and  we  must  take 
lier  with  us  into  the  presence  of  our  august  Empress,  ^fadam  Etiquette 
would  never  permit  me  to  pass  in  this  simple'drcss.  She  would  order 
me  indignantly  from  her  sight,  and  your  Highness  also.  Go.  therefore, 
and  don  your  richest  Spanish  habit.  In  fifteen  minutes;  I  await  your 
Highness  here." 

She  made  another  deep  curtsey.  The  Archduke  taking  up  the  jest, 
approached  her,  and  kissing  her  hand  replied — 

"  I  obey  your  iYnpcrial  Highness,  as,  your  loyal  husband  and  loving 
subject.  I  shall  deck  myself  with  stars  and  orders  ;  and  in  princely 
splendor  I  shall  return,  as  becomes  the  spouse  of  the  Archduchess  of 
Austria.     Your  Highness's  obedient  servant." 

And  in  true -Spanish  fashion,  he  bent  his  knee  and  kissed  the  hem  of 
her  robe.  Backing  out  of  her  presence,  he  bowed  agavii  as  he  reached 
the  door,  but  catching  her  laughing  eyes,  he  suddenly  dashed  right  over 
Madam  Etiquette,  and  catching  his  wife  in  his  arms,  he  gave  her  a  last 
and  a  right  burgher-like  kiss.  The  Archduke  was  very  happy,  and  the 
Archduchess well !     One  day  God  will  reward  her ! 

As  the  door  closed,  the  expression  of  her  face  changed.  ,  The  smile 
died  from  her  lips,  and  her  eyes  were  dim  with  tears. 

"  Poor  boy  !"  murmured  she,  he  loves  me,  and  I — I  suffer  him  to  be- 
•  lieve  that  I  return  his  love,  while . 

"  But  I  am  right,"  said  the  devoted  girl,  and  she  clasped  her  hands 
convulsively  together. 

"  O  my  Savior  !"  cried  she,  *'  in  mercy  give  me  grace,  while  I  live,  to 
be  true  to  the  vows  that  before  thine  altar  I  have  sworn  to  the  Arch- 
duke of  Austria  !  It  were  cruel  in  mc  to  wound  his  noble  heart,  cruel 
to  awake  him  from  his  dream  of  love!  Let  him  ^t  least,  be  happy, 
whilellivej  and  Lord  !  give  me  strength  that  I  faint  not  under  my 
burthen !" 


JOSEPH  THE  SECOND. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

'  GLUCK. 

TIio  sun  had  risen,  flooding  the  earth  with  light,  and  the  people  of 
Vienna  had  already  begun  their  labors  for  the  day.  .But  the  curtains 
had  not  yet  been  dra\yn  from  a  riclily  furnished  room,  wliose  walls  were 
lined  with  books  ;  and  in  whose  centre  stood  a  table  covered  with  pa- 
pers, whereon  the  lights  not  yet  extinguished  were  dropping  their  waxen 
tears  from  two  lofty  silver  candel-abra.  At  this  table  sat  a  man,  look- 
ing earnestly  at  a  paper,  covered  with  notes  of  music.  He  had  sat  there 
the  whole  hight  long,  and  his  countenance  gave  no  indication  of  the  ex-. 
liaustion  that  follows  upon  night-watching.  His  large  dark,  gray  eyes 
flashed,  whenever  he  raised  his  head  thoughtfully^  as  he  frequently  did; 
and  when  music  was  born  of  his  thoughts,  a  smile  illuminated  his  other- 
wise plain  face,  and  a  wonderful  light  played  about  his  magnificent  fore- 
head ;  the  glory  of  that  genius  which  had  made  it  her  dwelling-place. 

The  form  of  this  man  was  as  striking  as  his  face.  Tall  and  command- 
ing in  stature,  his  wide  shoulders  seemed  proudly  to  bear  the  weight  of 
the  head  that  towered  above  them,  and  in  his  lofty  bearing,  there  v/as  a 
dignity  that  betokened  either  rank  or  genius. 

He  had  both ;  for  this  man  was  Christopher  Von  Gluck,  son  of  a 
huntsman  of  Princo  Eugene,  who  was  born  1714  in  the  village  of 
"Weidenwang. 

This  son  of  the  poor  huntsman,  was  known  throughout  all  Europe ; 
and  in  Italy,  the  nobles  in  their  palaces,  and  the  people  on  the  streets 
sang  the  melodies  of  Phedia,*^  Antigone,  Scmiramede,  and  Telemacco.  hi 
Germany  he  was  less  known ;  and  in  Vienna  alone,  was  he  truly  appre- 
ciated.    -  , 

There  he  sat,  unconscious  of  th^  daylight.  On  a  chair  at  his  side,  lay 
a  violin  and  flute ;  near  them,  a  violincello  leaned  against  the  wall ;  and 
within  reach  of  his  hand,  stood  one  of  those  upright  pianos  just  then 
coming  into  fashion. 

At  one  moment  he  wrote  rapidly ;  at  another  he  hummed  a  melody ; 
again  halfdeclaiming,  half  singing,  he  read,  off"  a  Recitative;  and  then 
bent  over  and  wrote  with  all  his  might.  The  lights  began  to  smoke, 
and  the  wax  dropped  over  his  music,  but  he  saw  none  of  it;,  neither  saw 
he  the  day-light  that  had  replaced  his  candles.  He  was  so  absorbed  in 
his  work  as  not  to  hear  a  knock  at  his  door. 

But  now  the  knock  was  repeated  ;  and  this  time  so  distinctly  that  it 
waked  him  from  his  dream  of  harmony,  and  he  frowned.  He  rose,  and 
striding  to  the  door,  withdrew  the  ftolt. 


ISABELLA.  77 

Tho  door  opened,  and  a  tall,  elegant  woman,  in  a  tasteful  morning- 
dress,  came*  in.  Her  fine  regular  features  were  disturbed,  and  her  eyes 
were  red  with  weeping  or  watching.  When  she  saw  Gluck  looking  so 
fresh  and  vigorous,  she  smiled,  and  said,  '*  Heaven  be  praised,  you  arc 
alive  and  well ;  I  have  passed  a  night  of  anxious  terror  on  your  account." 

"  And  why,  Marianne  V  asked  he,  his  brow  unbent,  and  his  face  beam- 
ing with  tenderness;  for  Gluck  idolised  his  beautiful  wife. 

She  looked  at  his  quiet,  inquiring  face,  and  broke  into  a  merry  laugh. 
"  Oh,  the  barbarian  !"  cried  she,  "  not  to  know  of  what  he  has  been  guil- 
ty. Why  Christopher,  lock  at  those  burnt-out  wax-lights,  look  at  tho 
day-light  wondering  at  you  tluough  your  curtains.  Last  night  at  ten' 
o'clock,  I  lit  these  candles,  and  you  promised  to  work  for  only  two 
hours  more.     Look  at  them  now,  and  see  what  you  have  been  doing?" 

— "  Indeed,  I  do  believe  that  I  have  been  here  all  night,"  said  Gluck, 
with  naif  astonishmeni.  "But  I  assure  you,  Marianne,  that  I  fully  in- 
tended to  go  to  bed  at  the  end  of  two  hours.  Is  it  my  fault,  if  the  night 
has  seemed  so  short?     Twelve  hours  since  we  parted  !   ^  Can  it  be  !" 

lie  went  to  the  window,  and  drew  the  curtain.-?.  "  Day  !"  cried  he, 
"  and  the  sun  so  bright !"  He  looked  out  with  a  smile  ;  but  suddenly 
his  brow  grew  thoughtful,  and  he  said  in  a  low  voice, 

"Oh,  may  the  light  of  day  sliine  upon  me  also  !" 

His  wife  laid  her  hand  upon  his  arm.  "And  upon  whom  falls  the 
light  of  day  if  not  upon  you  ?"  asked  she,  reproacnfully.  "Look  baek 
upon  your  twenty  operas,  and  see  each  one  bearing  its  laurel-wreath 
angl  shouting  to  the  world  your  fame  !  And  now  look  into  the  future, 
and  see  their  unborn  sisters,  whose  lips  one  day  will  open  to  the  harmo- 
ny of  your  music,  and  will  teach  all  nations  to  love  your  memory  !  And 
I,  Christopher,  I  believe  more  in  your  future  than  in  your  past  successes. 
Ifl  did  not,  think  you  that  I  would  indulge  you  as  I  do  in  your  artistic 
eccentricities,  and  sit  like  a  love-lorn  maiden  outside  of  this)  door,  my 
ear  strained  to  listen  for  your  breathing :  dreaded  lest  some  sudden 
stroke  should  have  quenched  tho  light  of  that  genius  which  you  overtask  ^ 
yet  daring  not  to  ask  entrance,  lest  my  presence  should  affright  your 
other  loves — the  Muses  ?"  Yes,  my  dear  husband,  I  have  faith  in  the 
power  of  your  genius ;  and  for  you  has  risen  this  glorious  sun  to-day. 
Chase  away  those  clouds  from  the  heaven  of  jour  brow.  They  are  ill- 
timed." 

In  the  height  of  her  enthusiasm  she  spoke,  and  now,  her  two  arms 
around  his  neck,  she  rested  her  head  upon  Gluck's  bosom. 

He  bent  down,  and  kissed  her  forehead.  "  Then,  my  wife  has  faith, 
not  in  what  I  have  done,  but  in  what  I  can  do.     Is  it  so,  love  ?" 

— "It  is,  Christopher.     I  believe  in  the  power  of  your  genius." 

GIuqIv's  face  wore  an  expression  of  triumph  as  she  said  this,  and  ho 
smiled.  His  smile  was  very  beautiful,  and  ever,  when  she  saw  it,  his 
wife  felt  a  thrill  of  happiness.  Never  had  it  seemed  to  her  before  so 
full  of  heavenly  inspiration. 

"  Since  such  is  your  faith  in  me,  my  Egeria,  you  will  then  have  cour- 


78  JOSEPH  THE  SECOND. 

age  to  hear  what  I  have  to  tell.  Tear  away  the  laurel-wreaths  from  my 
past  works,  Marianne — burn  them  to  ashes.  They  are  dust,  and  to  dust 
they  will  surely  return.  Their  mirth  and  their  melody,  their  pomp  and 
their  pathos  are  all — lies.  They  are  not  the  true  children  of  inspiration, 
they  are  impostors.  They  are  the  offspring  of  our  affected  and  falsely-sen- 
timental times,  and  deserve  not  immortality.  Away  with  them  !  A  new 
day  shall  begin  for  me,  or  I  shall  hide  my  head  in  bitter  solitude,  despi- 
sing my  race,  who  applaud  the  juggler,  and  turn  away  in  coldness  from 
the  veritable  artist." 

"  What !"  exclaimed  Marianne,  "  those  far-fomed  operas  that  delight 
the  world,  arie  they  nothing  more  than  clever  deceptions  ?" 

"  Nothing  more,"  cried  Gluck.  "  They  did  not  gush  from  the  holy 
fount  of  inspiration,  tliey  were  composed  and  arranged  to  suit  the  taste 
of  the  pirblic  and  the  dexterity  of  the  singers,  who,  if  they  trill  and  jug- 
gle with  their  voices,  think  that  they  have  reached  the  summit  of  musi- 
cal perfection.  But  this  must  no  longer  be.  I  have  written  for  time, 
1  will  now  work  for  immortality.  Let  me  interpret  what  the  angels 
have  whispered,  and  then  you  shall  hear  the  language  of  the  soul,  which 
nothing  but  music  can  translate.  What  are  the  lame  efforts  of  speech 
by  the  side  of  its  thrilling  tones  1  Music  is  a  divine  revelation,  but  men 
have  not  yet  received  it  in  their  hearts.  /  have  been  made  its  messen- 
ger and  I  will  speak  the  message  faithfully. 

"Ah  Christopher  !"  interposed  Marianne,  "  I  fear  you  will  find  no  fol- 
lowers. If  the  message  be  to6  lofty  for  the  hearers,  the  messenger  will 
be  driven  away  in  disgrace." 

"Hear' the  coward  !"  cried  Gluck  vehemently  ;  "seb  the  woman's  na- 
ture shrinking  from  the  path  of  honor  because  it  is  beset  with  danger.  I 
did  well,  not  to  let  you  know  the  nature  of  my  last  labors,  for  with  your 
sighs  and  your  croakings  you  would  have  turned  me  back  again  into  the 
hi4hway  of  flilsehood.  But  you  are  too  late,  poltroon.  The  work  is 
done,  and  it  shall  see  light."  Gluck  looked  at  his  wife's  face,  and  the  ex- 
pression he  saw  there,  made  him  pause.  Already  he  w^s  sorry,  and 
ready  to  atone.  "No  !  no  !  I  wrong  you,  my  Egeria,  not  only  are  you 
the  wife  of  my  love,  but  the  friend  of  my  genius.  Come  dearest,  let  us 
brave  the  world  together ;  and  even  if  that  fail  us,  let  us  never  doubt  the 
might  of  truth  and  the  glory  of  its  interpreters." 

So  saying  Gluck  reached  out  his  hands ;  and  his  wife,  with  a  trusting 
smile  laid  both  hers  upon  them.  "How  can  you  doubt  me,  Christopher  ?" 
asked  she.  "  Look  back  into  the  past,  to  the  days  of  our  courtship,  and 
say  who  then  was  fainthearted  and  who  then  declared  that  his  little 
weight  of  grief  was  too  heavy  for  those  broad  shoulders  to  bear." 

"  I !  I !"  'confessed  Gluck,  "  but  I  was  in  love,  and  a  man  in  love  is 
always  a  craven." 

"  And  1  suppose,"  laughed  Marianne,  "  that  I  was  not  in  love,  which 
will  account  for  my  energy  and  patience  on  that  occasion.     To  think  that 

my  rich  father  thought  me  too  good  for  Gluck! Heaven  forgive  me, 

but  I  could  not  mourn  him  as  I  might  have  done,  had  his  death  not  left 


I5x\BELLA.  79 

mc  free  to  marry  you,  you  ill-natured  grant.  Yes  !  and  now  that  twelve 
years  have  gone  by,  1  love  you  twice  as  well  as  1  did  ;  and  God,  who 
knew  there  was  no  room  in  my  heart  for  other  loves,  has  given  me  no 
children,  for  I  loftg  for  none.     You  are  to  me  husband,  lover,  friend  and 

you  need  not  shake  your  head,  sir,  you  are  child,  too.     Then  why 

have  you  kept  your  secrets  from  mc,  tell  me,  traitor,  why  V 

"Not  because  you  were  faint-hearted,  my  beloved,''  said  Gluck  with 
emotion,  "  my  violent  temper  wronged  us  both,  when  it  provoked  me  to' 
utter  a  word  so  false.  But  jrenius  must  labor  in  secret  and  in  silence; 
its  works  are  like  those  enchanted  treasures  of  which  we  have  read  ; 
speak  of  their  existence,  and  lo  !  they  are  ashes.  Sometimes  genius 
holds  an  enchanted  treasure  before  the  eyes  of  the  artist,  who  in  holy 
meditation  must  earn  it  for  himself.  One  word  spoken,  breaketh  the 
spell,  and  therefore,  ,it  was,  Marianne,  that  I  spoke  not  the  word.  But 
the  treasure  is  mine,  I  have  earned  it,  and  first  at  my  wife's  feet  I  lay  it; 
perchance  that  she  may  stand  by  my  side,  while  the  world  rejects  it  as 
worthless,  and  heaps  obloquy  upon  my  head." 

"  His  will  be  a  bold  hand  that  casts  tfie  first  stone  at  the  giant,"  said 
Marianne,  looking  proudly  upon  the  tall  and  stalwart  figure  of  her  hus- 
band. 

"  You  call  me  giant,  and  that  recalls  to  me  a  fact  which  bears  upon 
the  subject  of  our  conversation  now,''  said  Gluck,  with  a  laugh.  "It 
was  the  fall  of  my  "  Giant "  that  first  showed  me  the  precipice  towards 
which  I  and  my  works,  with  allmy  musical  predecessors,  w^re  hastcninrr."' 

— "You  mean  your  '  Caduta  de  Giganti,^  which  you  tried  to  exhibit 
before  those  icy  English  people  V 

— "  Do  not  speak  .against  the  English,  !Marianne,  they  are  a  good  up- 
right nation.  It  is  not  their  fault  if  they  are  better  versed  in  book-keep- 
ing than  in  Music  ;  and  I  do  not  know  that  they  are  fi\r  wrong  when  they 
prefer  the  chink  of  gold,  to  the  strumming  and  piping,  which  until  now, 
the  world,  turning  up  the  whites  of  its  eyes,  has  called  music.  I  who 
had  been  piping  and  strumming  with  the  rest,  suddenly  rushed  out  of 
the  throng  and  thrusting  ray  master-piece  in  their  faces,  told  thorn  that 
it  was  music.  Was  it  their  fault  if  they  turned  their  backs  and  would 
not  believe  me  ?     I  think  not." 

— "Oh  !  you  need  not  excuse  the  English,  Christopher.  I  know  the 
history  of  the  ^  Caduta  de  Giganti,''  although  Master  Gluck  has  never 
told  it  me.  I  know  that  the  young  Artist  met  with  no  favor  at  English 
hands  ;  and  I  know  that  because  his  works  were  not  a  lame  repetition  of 
Italian  music  and  water,  the  discerning  Londoners  voted  it — worthless. 
I  know  too  that  Master  Gluck,  in  his  distress,  took  counsel  with  the  great 
Handel,  and  besought  him  to  point  out  the  opera's'defects.  Then  said 
Handel »  . 

— "  How,  dear  prattler,  you  know  what  Handel  said  ?" 

— "  I  do,  Master  Gluck.  Handel  said  :  You  have  given  yourself  too 
much  trouble,  man.  To  please  the  English  public,  you  must  make  a 
great  noise.    Give  them  plenty  of  brass  and  sheep-skin." 


80  JOSEPH  THE  SECONp. 

**  So  he  did,"  cried  Gluck,  convulsed  with  laughter.     "  1  followed  his 
advice.     I  spiiukled  the  choliisses  with  trumpet  and  driinrr,  and  the, 
second  time  the  opeM  came  out,  it  was  a  complete  success." 

3Iarianue  joined  in  the  mirth  of  her  husband. 

— "  But  now,  if  all  this  is  true,  why  do  you  like  the  English  f 

— "  Because  my  failure  in  England  taught  me  the  utter  worthlessness 
of  our  present  school  of  music,  and  inspired  me  with  the  desire  to  re- 
form it." 

He  drew  her  arm  within  his  and  seated  her  on  the  divan  by  his  side. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

THE  KEW  OPERA, 

"  Now  Marianne,"  said  he,  putting  his  arm  arouncl  her  w^alst,  "  hear 
the  secret  history  of  my  musical  career.  I  will  tell  you  of  the.  misfor- 
tunes that  my  genius  has  encountered  through  life.  I  begin  with  Eng- 
land. It  is  of  no  use  to  go  back  to  the  privations  of  my  boyhood,  though 
they  were  many ;  for  hunger  and  thirst  are  the  tribute  that  man  must 
pay  to  fate  for  that  capital  which  genius  gives  to  him,  and  which  he  must 
increase  with  all  his  might  and  all  his  strength.  Even  as  a  boy,  I  crav- 
ed less  for  bread  than  for  fame ;  and  I  consecrated  my  life  and  soul  to 
Art.  I  thought  that  I  was  in  the  right  way  ;  for  I  had  written  eight  op- 
eras which  the  Italians  lauded  to  the  skies.  But  the  '  Cacluta  di  Gi- 
^ara^i' was  a  failure,  and  '  Artamene  '  likewise.  This  double 7?asco  en- 
raged me,  (you  know  my  bad  temper,  Marianne.)  I  could  not  bear  to 
be  so  misconceived ! — I  was  determined  to  show  the  English  that,  in 
spite  of  them,  I  was  an  Artist.  I  longed  to  bring  them  to  my  feet,  as 
Jupiter  did  the  Titans,  So  I  ordered  from  one-of  those  poetastieS  to  be 
found  in  every  land,  a  sort  oi  libretto,  called  in  theatrical  parlance,  a  lyric 
drama ;  and  to  the  words  of  this  monstrosity  I  arranged  the  very  finest 
airs  of  my  several  operas.  When  I  had  completed  this  musical  kaleido- 
scope, I  called  it  Pyramus  and  Thisbe.  I  dished'  up  my  olla  podrida  ; 
and  set  it  before  the  hungry  English! ;  but  they  did  not  relish  it.  The 
public  remained  cold,  and — what  was  far  worse — I  remained  cold,  my- 
self. I  thought  over  this  singular  result,  and  wondered  how  it  was  that 
music  which,  as  a  part  of  the  operas  for  which  it  was  written,  had  seem- 
ed so  full  of  soul,  now  faded  into  insipidity  when  transplanted  to  the 
soil  of  other  dramatic  situations.  I  found  the  answer  in  the  question. 
It  was  because  I  had  transplanted  my  music  from  its  native  soil,  that  its 
beauty  had  flown.    Then  it  burst  upon  my  mind  that  the  Libretto  is  the   ^ 


ISABELLA.  8 1 

father  of  the  Opera,  the  Music,  its  mother;  and  so.  if  the  father  be  not 
strong  and  lusty,  the  mother  will  bring  forth  a  sickly  offspring,  which 
offspring  cannot  grow  up  to  perfection.  Now,  my  operas  are  sickly,  for 
they  arc  the  children  of  an  unsound  father,  who  is  no  true  poet." 

"  Still,  still,  rash  man,"  whispered  Marianne,  looking  around  as  though 
she  feared  listeners.  "  Do  you  forget  that  the  father  of  your  operas,  is 
Metastasio  ?" 

"  1  remember  it  too  well,  for  many  of  my  works  hare  perished  from 
their  union  with  his  weak  and  sentimental  verses.  Perished,  in  my  es- 
timation, I  mean  ;  for  to  make  my  operas  passable,  I  have  often  been  oblig- 
ed to  write  fiery  music  to  insipid  words;  and  introduce  _/fortfwrfl^  out  of 
place^that  the  nightingales  might  compensate  to  the  world  for  the  short- 
comings of  the  poet.  Well,  my  heart  has  bled  while  I  wrote  such  mu- 
sic, and  I  prayed  to  God  to  send  me  a  true  poet — one  who  could  writa 
of  something  else  besides  Love  ;  one  who  could  rise  to  the  height  of  my 
own  inspiration,  and  who  could  develop  a  genuine  lyric  drama,  with 
characters,  not  personages,  and  a  plot  whose  interest  should  increase  un- 
to its  end." 

"  And  have  you  found  him  1"  asked  Marianne  with  a  meanitig  smile. 

♦•  I  have.     It  is " 

*'  Calzabigi,"  interrupted  she. 

"How!"  cried  the  fiery  Gluck,  "  afler  promising ^ecresy,  has  h«  been 
unable  to  curb  his  tongue?" 

— '*  Nonsense,  Christopher,  he  has  not  said  a  "word  to  rac.  I  guessed 
this  long  ago." 

"  And  how  comes  it  that  you  never  hinted  a  word  of  it  to  me?^ 

"I  waited  for  the  hour  when  you  deemed  it  best  to  speak,  my  love; 
for  I  con^prehended  fully  the  reasons  for  your  silence.  Therefore  I  wai- 
ted until  Minerva  should  come  forth  full  armed,  to  challenge  Jove's  op- 
ponents to  the  strife.  Meanwhile  I  had  faith  in  God  and  thee,  Christo- 
pher, and  I  prayed  for  Heaven's  blessing  on  thy  genius." 

"  Heaven  will  hear  thy  prayer,  my  better  self,"  cried  Gluck,  drawing 
his  wife  close  to  his  heart.  Oh,  how  happy  I  feel  to  be  permitted  to 
speak  with  thee  of  my  past  labors.  How  gladly  shall  I  listen  to  thy 
criticisms  or  thine  approval ;  both,  more  to  me  than  those  of  all  the 
world  beside.     Come,  Marianne,  I  will  begin  now." 

He  sprang  up  from  the  divan,  and  would  have  hurried  to  the  piano, 
but  Marianne  held  him  back.  "  Maestro,"  said  she,  "  before  we  sacrifice 
to  Apollo,  let  us  give  to  life  and  mortality  their  rights.  Prose  awaits 
us  in  the  dining-room,  and  we  shall  give  her  audience  before  we  open 
the  pages  of  this  nameless  opera." 

"  You  shall  hear  its  name,  Marianne.     It  is " 

Marianne  put  her  arms  around  his  neek,  and  whispered,  "  Hash,  my 
Orpheus." 

*'  How !    You  know  that  alsol" 

.  She  raised  her  hand,  as  if  in  menace.     "  Know,  Christopher,  that  little 
Hymen  tolerates  no  man  who-  has  secrets  from  his  wife.     You  tried  to 

6 


82  JOSEPH  THE  SECOND. 

be  silent,  but  betrayed  yourself  in  your  sleep.  You  do  not  know  how 
often  in  the  night  you  called  Eurydice  in  tones  of  plaintive  music.  Nor 
do  you  know  how,  as  you  appealed  to  the  deities  of  the  infernal  regions, 
I  shuddered  at  the  power  of  your  weird  notes !" 

"  You  have  heard,  then,"  cried  Gluck  enchanted.     "  And  you-*—" 

"My  friend,  Prose,  Prose  calls  with  angry  voice.  Away  to  the 
dining-room  !  A  man  who  has  revelled  all  night  with  the  Muses,  needs 
refreshment  in  the  morning.  Nay — you  need  not  frown  like  Jupiter 
Tonans — you  must  go  with  me  to  eat  earthly  food,  before  I  taste  your 
nectar  and  ambrosia.  Come,  and  to  reward  your  industry  you  shall 
have  a  glass  of  Lacrimae  Christi  from  the  cellar  of  the  Duke  of  Bologna." 

She  drew  him  from  the  room,  and  succeeded  in  landing  him  ^t  the 
breakfast  table, 

"  Now,  I  will  not  hear  a  word  about  Art,"  said  Marianne,  when  tha 
servants  had  brought  in  the  breakfast,  '"'l  am  the  physician,  both  of 
body  and  mind,  and  I  condemn  you  to  a  silence  of  fifteen  minutes.  Then 
you  may  talk." 

"Of  my  opera,  CarissimaP 

"  Heaven  forbid !  Of  the  wind  and  weather — nothing  else.  Now  hush, 
and  drink  your  chocolate." 

So  Gluck,  obedient,  drank  his  chocolate,  and  ate  his  biscuit  and  part- 
ridge-wing in  silence. 

All  at  once,  the  comfortable  stillness  was  broken  by  a  loud  ringing  of 
the  door-bell,  and  a  servant  announced  Signor  Calzabigi. 

Gluck  darted  off  from  the  table,  but  Marianne,  laughing,  brought  him 
back  again.  "  First,  your  glass  of  Lacrimae  Christi,"  said  she.  Calza- 
bigi will  be  indulgent  and  wait  for  us  a  moment."  \ 

He  took  the  glass,  and  inclining  his  head,  drank  her  health. 

"  Marianne,"  said  he  cheerfully,  "I  have  been  amiable  and  tractable 
as  a  good  child.  Enough  of  Prose,  then — give  me  ray  freedom  now, 
will  you  f' 

"  Yes,  Mf^estro  ;  you  are  free ;  your  body  is  refreshed,  and  can  bear 
the  weight  of  that  strong  soul  that  has  no  infirmities  to  impede  its  flight. 
Fly  if  you  list — to  Calzabigi !" 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

RANIERO  VON  CALZABIGI. 


The  door  of  the  drawing  room  had  scarcely  opened  before  Calzabigi 
hastened  forward  to  meet  Gluck.  But,  seeing  his  wife,  he  stopped,  and 
made  a  profound  inclination. 

"  Speak  out,  friend  "  cried  Gluck  merrily.    "  She  knows  everything. 


nnd  think  what  a  treasure  of  a  wife  she  is.  She  has  knov\*n  it  ail  along, 
■without  betraying  herself  by  a  word." 

"  And  does  that  surprise  you,"  answered  Calzabipi,  "  It  does  not  me, 
for  well  I  know  that  the  Signora  is  an  angel  of  prudence  as  well  as  of 
goodness.  The  Signora  will  allow  me  to  ppeak  before  her  1  Well  then, 
Slaestro,  the  die  is  cast !  J  am  just  from  the  house  of  Count  Durazzo, 
to  whom,  at  your  request,  I  took  the  opera  yesterday.  The  Count  sat 
Tip  all  night  to  examine  it ;  and  this  morning,  when  I  was  ushered  into 
his  room,  I  found  him  still  in  his  evening  dress,  the  score  on  the  table, 
before  him." 

"  Hear,  Marianne,"  exclaimed  Gluck  triumphantly.  ■*'  It  is  not  only 
the  composer  who  forgets  to  sleep  for  the  sake  of  this  opera !  And 
what  said  the  theatfical  director,  Raniero?" 

"  He  said  that  no  intrigue  and  no  opposition  should  prevent  him  from 
,  representing  this  magnificent  opera.  He  says  that  ho  feels  proud  of  the 
privilege  of  introducing  this  chef-d'oeuvre  to  the  world.  He  has  already 
sent  for  the  transcribers  ;  he  has  chosen  the  performers,  and  begs  of  the 
author  to  distribute  the  parts.  But  everything  must  be  done  at  once  ; 
for  the  opera  comes  out  in  October,  to  celebrate  the  birth-day  of  the 
young  Archduchess  Isabella." 

"  That  is  impossible,"  cried  Gluck.  "We  are  in  July,  and  such  an 
opera  cannot  be  learned  in  three  months." 

"  With  good-will,  it  can  be  done,  Christopher,"  said  Marianne,  implo- 
ringly. "  Do  not  leave  your  enemies  time  to  cabal  against  you  ;  snatch 
the  victory  from  them,  before  they  have  time  for  strategy." 

"  You  do  not  know  what  you  require  at  my  hands,"  returned  he,  pas- 
sionately. "You  do  not  know  how  an  ill-timed  pause  or  a  slighted  rest 
would  mar  the  fair  face  of  my  god-like  music  and  travesty  its  beauty." 

"  Hear  how  he  defames  himself!"  laughied  Marianne;  "as  if  it  were 
so  easy  to  desecrate  Gluck's  master-piece  !" 

"It  is  precisely  because  it  is  ray  master-pieCe  that  it  is  easy  to  trav- 
esty," returned  Gluck  earnestly.  "The  lines  which  distinguish  the  hand 
of  a  Raphael  from  that  of  a  lesser  genius,  are  so  delicate  as  to  be  al- 
most imperceptible.  Slight  deviations  of  the  pencil  have  no  effect  upon 
a  caricature ;  but  you  well  know  how  completely  a  beautiful  face  may 
be  disfigured  by  a  few  unskilful  touches.  I  will  cite  as  an  example  the 
aria  of  Orpheus  ;  "  Che  faro  senza  Euridice."  Change  its  expression  by 
the  smallest  discrepancy  of  time  or  modulation  and  you  transform  it  into 
a  tune  for  a  puppet-show.  In  music  of  this  description,  a  misplaced  pia- 
no or  forte,  an  ill-judged  ^/?on7i/re,  an  error  of  movement,  either  one,  will 
alter  the  effect  of  the  whole  scene.  Ths  opera  must,  therefore,  be  rc- 
heansed  under  my  own  direction  ;  for  the  composer  is  the  soul  of  his 
opera,  and  his  presence  is  as  necessary  to  its  success  as  is  that  of  the  sun 
to  the  creation."* 

"  Well,  I  am  sure  you  can  manage  the  whole  troop  with  that  Stentor 

voice  of  yours,"  replied  Marianne. 

♦  The3«  are  Gluck's  orwn  wordE,    Anton  Scbiaid,  Llfo  of  ©luck ;  pus*  1&2. 


84  josaru  the  second. 

•'  If  jou  do  not  consent,  Gluck,"  intarpoRPil  Calzablgi,  "they  \¥ill  have 
to  rehearse  for  iho  birlh-day  ftlo  an  opera  of  Ilasso  and  MeUistasio," 

"  What !"  flhrieked  Gluck.  "  Lay  aside  my  Orpheus  for  one  of  Has- 
eo's  puny  operas  ?  Never  !  My  opera  is  almost  complete.  It  needs 
but  one  last  aria  to  stand  out  before  the  world  in  all  its  fullness  of  per- 
fection, and  I  shall  sutFer  it  to  be  laid  aside  to  give  place  to  one  of  Ila;*- 
so's  tooting,  jingling,  performances  !  No,  no;  my  Orpheus  shall  not 
retire  before  Ilasse's  pitiful  Jeremiads.  It  shall  be  forthcoming  on  the 
birth-day,  and  I  must  train  the  singers  by  day  and  by  night." 

"  Right!"  exclaimed  Marianne,  "and  we  ."hall  crown  you  \s\\.\\  new 
laurels,  Christopjier,  on  that  e%'entful  night." 

"  I  am  not  so  sure  of  that,  Marianne.  It  is  easier  to  criticise  than  to 
appreciate;  and  every  thing  original,  or  new,  prov(»kp8  the  opposition 
of  the  multitude.  In  our  caso,  they  have  double  provocation  ;  for  Cal- 
zabigi's  poem  is  as  original  as  my  music.  Wo  have  both  striven  for 
simplicity,  nature,  and  truth  ;  wo  have  both  discarded  clap-trap  of  eve- 
ry JJort.  Oh,  Calzabigi,  my  friend,  how  happy  for  me  that  I  h:^e  found 
such  a  poet !  If,  through  his  Orpheus,  Gluck  is  to  attain  fame,  he  well 
knows  how  much  of  it  is  duo  to  the  inspiration  of  your  noble  poem  !" 

"And  never,",  exclaimed  Calzabigi,  grasping  the  extended  hand  of  the 
composer,  "never  would  the  name  of  poor  Calzabigi  have  been  known 
had  Gluck  not  borno  it  along  upon  the  pinions  of  his  own  fame.  If  the 
•world  calls  me  Poet,  it  is  because  my  poem  has  borrowed  beauty  from 
Gluck's  celestial  music." 

"  Yes,"  said  Gluck,  laughing,  "and  if  your  poem  fails,  you  will  be 
equally  indebted  to  Gluck's  music  Those  half  learned  critirs,  so  numer- 
ous in  the  world,  who  are  far  more  injurious  to  Art  than  the  ignorant, 
will  ravo  against  our  opera.  Another  class  of  musical  pedants  will  be 
for  discovering  carelessness,  and  for  aught  we  know,  the  majority  of  the 
■world  may  follow  in  their  wake,  and  condemn  our  opera  as  barberous, 
discordant,  and  overstrained."- 

"  We  must  try  to  forestall  all  theso  prejudices  and  win  tho  critics  to 
the  side  of  Truth  and  real  Art,"  said  Marianne. 

"  The  Signora  is  right,"  said  Calzal)igi ;  "  it  is  not  so  much  for  our  own 
aake,  as  for  the  sake  of  Art,  that  we  should  strive  to  have  a  fair  hearing 
before  the  world.  Wo  have  the  powerful  party  of  Metastasio  and  Jlas- 
8c  to  gain.  But  I  will  deal  with  them  myself.  You,  Maestro,  speak  a 
word  of  encouragement  to  Ilasse,  and  ho  will  be  so  overjoyed  that  he 
will  laud  your  opera  to  the  skies.  And,  pray,  be  a  man  and  among 
men,  and  do  as  other  composers  have  done  before ;  pay  a  visit  to  the 
singers,  and  ask  them  to  bring  all  their  skill  to  the  representation  of 
your  great  work  ;  ask  them  to " 

Here  Gluck,  boiling  over  with  indignation,  broke  in  upon  Calzabigi^ 
BO  as  actually  to  make  tho  poet  start  back.  "What!"  cried  he,  in  a 
voice  of  thunder,  "shall  I  vi.sit  the  ladies'  mai<ls  also,  and  make  them 
declarations  of  love?  Shall  1  present  each  singer  with  a  golden  snuff- 
box, while  I  entertain  the  troop  at  a  supper,  where  champagne  shall  flew 


.       1SABEI.LA.  85 

like  water,  and  Indian  birds'  nests  shall  be  served  up  with  diamonds? 
Shall  I  present  myself  in  full  court  dress  at  the  ante-room  of  the  tenor, 
and  slipping  a  ducat  in  the  hand  of  his  valet,  solicit  the  honor  of  an  in- 
terview ?  Shall  I  then  bribe  the  maid  of  the  prima  donna  to  let  me  lay 
upon  her  mistress'  toilet-table,  a  poem,  a  dedication,  and  a  sot  of  jewels  ! 
Shame  upon  you,  cravens,  that  would  have  genius  beg  for  suffrages  from 
mediocrity  !  Rather  would  I  throw  my  Orpheus  behind  the  fire,  and 
let  every  opera  I  have  ever  written  follow  it  to  destruction  !  1  would 
bite  out  my  tongue  and  spit  it  in  Basse's  face,  sooner  than  go  before 
him  with  a  mouth  full  of  flattering  lies,  to  befool  him  with  praise  of  that 
patchwork  he  has  made  and  calls — an  Opkba  !  "When  I  was  obscure 
and  unknown,  1  scorned  these  tricks  of  trade;  and  think  you  that  today 
I  would  stoop  to  such  baseness  !  Eight  years  ago,  in  Rome,  a  cabal 
was  formed  against  me  to  cause  the  failure  of  my  '  Trion/o  de  Camiilo.^ 
Cardinal  Albini  came  to  assure  me  that  his  influence  should  put  down 
the  plots  of  my  enemies.  1  thanked  him,  but  refused  all  protection  for 
my  opera,  and  I  told  his  Erninence  that  my  works  must  depend  upon 
their  own  worth  alone  for  success  *  And  j-ou  dare,  at  this  time,  to  come 
with  such  proposals  to  me  !  You  are  not  worthy  of  my  friendship  ;  I 
will  have  nothing  further  to  say  to  either  of  you,  you  cringing  puppets!" 

So  saying,  wrth  his  dark  blue  dressing-gown  flying  out  like  an  angry 
cloud  behind  him,  Gluck  strode  across  the  l-oom,  and  sailed  off"  to  hia 
private  study. 

Marianne  smiling,  reached  out  her  hand  to  the  astounded  poet. 

*'  Forgive  his  stormy  temper,"  said  she  gently.  •'  He  can  no  more 
bear  contradiction  than  a  spoiled  child.  His  wrath  looks  formidable  ; 
but  though  there  is  much  thunder,  there  is  no  lightening  aboift  him. 
Wait  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  kind  friend,  and  he  will  be  back,  suing  for 
pardon,  and  imploring  us  to  take  his  hand,  just  like  a  naughty  child  that 
he  is.  Then  he  will  smile,  and  look  so  ashamed  that  you  will  never 
have  the  heart  to  feel  resentful." 

"  I  have  none  already,"  replied  Calzabigl,  "his  thunder  has  rolled 
grandly  over  our  heads,  and  right  noble  are  its  souuds;  but  the  lighten- 
ing has  spared  us  ;  we  are  safe,  and — unconvinced.  For  indeed,  Signo- 
ra,"  continued  Raniero  with  earnestness,  "  we  are  rigkt.  No  reliance  is 
ever  to  be  placed  upon  the  justice  or  good  taste  of  the  world  ;  and  since 
the  Maestro  refuses  to  propitiate  his  judges,  I  will  undertake  the  task 
myself.  I  will  go  at  once  to  Metastasio  :  and  after  that  I  thall  invite 
the  performet-s  to  a  supper." 

*TUalitni«.    Anton  Svkmld,  pBff*  48. 


86  ;os3;pH  aiifi  s£coi'i> 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

THE   BIRTH-DAY. 

It  was  the  birthday  fjf  the  Archduchess  Isabella,  and  all  Vienna  was 
alive  with  festivity.  The  passionate  love  of  the  Archduke  for  iiia  beau- 
tiful young  wife  was  well  linown,  and  the  people  hastened  to  offer  hom- 
age to  the  beloved  partner  of  their  future  Emperor. 

From  early  morning,  the  equipages  of  the  nobility  were  seen  hurrying 
to  the  palace,  where  the  Archduchess,  in  state,  surrounded  by  the  other 
members  of  the  imperial  family,  received  the  congratulations  of  the 
court.  In  an  adjoining  room,  on  a  table  of  white  marble,  were  exhibited 
the  rich  gifts  by  which  her  new  relatives  had  testified  their  affection ;  for 
Isabella  was  adored  by  her  husband's  family. 

The  Emperor  Francis,  usually  so  simple,  had  presented  her  with  a  set 
of  jewels,  worth  half  a  million  ;  and  the  Empx^ess,  whose  joy  in  the  hap- 
piness of  her  son's  wedded  life,  knew  no  bounds,  was  lavish  in  her 
demonstrations  of  love  to  the  woman  who  first  had  awakened  his  heart 
to  gentle  emotions. 

Not  only  had  every  variety  of  rich  costumes  been  ordered  for  Isabel- 
la from  Paris,  but  the  Empress"  had  gone  so  far  as  to  present  a  set  of 
bridal;^wels  to  her  little  grand  daughter,  a  child  scarcely  a  year  old. 
This  magnificent  jyarwre  of  diamonds,  sapphires  and  pearls,  was  the  ad- 
miration of  the  whole  court.  Around  it,  lay  the  offerings  of  the  young 
sisters-in-law,  all  of  whom,  with  oue  exception,  had  presented  something. 
The  Princess  Christina,  the  dearest  friend  of  Isabella,'  had  painted  her 
miniature,  and  this  beautiful  likeness  was  intended  as  a  present  to  the 
Archduke  Joseph.*  He  received  it  with  delight;  and  while  his  large 
blue  eyes  wandered  from  the  portrait  to  the  original,  he  testified  his 
pleasure  by  every  possible  expression  of  rapture  and  gratitude.  "And 
yet,"  said  he,  "  there  is  something  in  this  picture  which  I  have  never 
seen  in  your  countenance,  Isabella.  Your  eyes,  which  to  me  have  al- 
ways seemed  to  borrow  their  light  from  Heaven,  here  look  out  dark 
and  unfiithomable,  as  if  within  their  melancholy  depths  there  lay  a  se- 
cret full  of  untold  sorrow." 

Joseph  did  not  perceive  the  look  of  intelligence  that  passed  between 
his  wife  and  sister,  as  he  spoke  these  words ;  he  still  gazed  upon  the 
picture,  and  at  last  his  face,  that  had  before  been  lit  up  with  joy,  grew 
full  of  thought  and  sorrowful.  Suddenly  he  laid  the  miniature  down, 
and  placing  his  hands  upon  Isabella's  shoulders,  he  looked  searchingly 
at  her  pale  countenance.  ' 

*  Wraxollj  pa|e m' 


"  Look  at  me,  my  beloved,"  whispered  he,  tenderly,  "  let  me  see  your 
bewitching  smile,  that  it  may  give  the  lie  to  yonder  strange  imr.^'o  I 
see  lliere  your  beautiful  fealuns.  'mt  instead  of  my  loving  and  beU''  fd 
wife,  my  happy  smiling  Isabella,  i  see  an  angcl,  but  oh  !  I  see  a  niai  i}  r 
too,  dying  of  some  secret  sorrow.  That  is  not  your  face,  is  it  my  wife? 
You  have  never  looked  so  wretched,  so  heart-broken!  Speak  Isabella, 
you  are  happy,  are  you  not,  my  own  one?" 

"  Yes,  dear  husband,''  whispered  she,  scarcely  moving  her  blanched 
lips,  "I  am  happy  and  contented  in  your  happiness.  But  see,  the  Em- 
press beckons  to  you.  She  seems  about  to  present  some  stranger  to 
your  notice." 

The  Archduke  left  to  obey  the  summons,  andjsabella  and  Christina 
remained  together,  looking  vacantly  upon  the  birth-day  table  and  the 
splendid  gifts  that  lay  in  such  rich  profirsion  before  their  eyes. 

"  Poor  brother !"  murmured  Christina,  "  he  loves  as  few  have  ever 
loved  before.  And  you,  dear  sister,  can  you  not  kindle  one  spark  from 
the  embers  of  your  heart  to  warm "  , 

"Why  speak  of  my  dead  heart?"  said  Isabella  mournfully.  "Did  I 
not  long  ago  confide  to  you  its  terrible  secret?  You  my  trusted  and 
dearest  friend,  have  you  not  seen  how  I  pray  Heaven  for  strength  to  hold 
before  my  husband's  eyes  the  faint  ray  of  light  which  he  mistakes  for 
the  sunshine  of  love?  Dear  Joseph!  His  heart  is  so  noble  and  so 
rich  with  love  that  he  sees  not  the  poverty  of  mine.  May  God  be  mer- 
ciful that  his  delusion  last  at  least  as  long  as  my  life,  then  .will  I  die 
happy  ;  for  I  shall  have  don©  my  duty  in  the  face  of  a  sorrow  transcending 
all  other  sorrows." 

Christina  bent  her  head  over  the  glittering  heaps  before  her,  that  no 
one  might  see  her  tears.  But  Isabella  saw  them,  as  they  fell  upon  the 
bridal  gifts  of  her  little  daughter. 

She  pointed  to  the  jewels.  "  See  Christina,  your  tears  are  brighter 
than  our  dear  mother's  diamonds.  The  Emperor  tries  in  vain  to  fuse 
brilliants;  but  nature  has  bestowed  them  unasked  upon  us  women.  Now, 
were  he  here " 

*'  Heaven  forbid,"  said  Christina,  as  with  her  gossamer  handkerchief 
she  wiped  away  the  fallen  tear.  "  If  the  Empress  were  to  know  this,^ 
she  would  be  justly  displeased,  that,  on  such  a  day,  ray  tears  should  din?, 
the  splendor  of  your  little  daughter's  bridal  jewels." 

"Give  yourself  no  concern  for  ray  daughteV-'s  jewels,  Christina;  she 
will  never  see  her  bridal  day." 

"How?  do  you  expect  her  to  be  an  old  maid,  like  my  two  eldest  sis^ 
ters?"  asked  Christiha,  with  assumed  playfulness. 

Isabella  laid  her  hand  on  Christina's  shoulder.  "  I  believe,"  said  sh% 
solemnly,  "or  rather  I  know,  that  my  daughter  will  ere  long  be  an 
angel." 

"Oh,  Isabella!"  cried  Christina,  almost  impatiently,  "is  it  not  enough 
that  you  prophecy  your  own  death  to  make  me  wretched,  without  ad.^ 
ding  to  my  grief  by  predicting  th&t  of  your  child,  too  I" 


88  JOSEPH  THE  SECOND. 

"  I  cannot  leave  her  behind,  Christina ;  I  should  be  unhappy  withoufc 
her.  She  must  follow  me  ; — but  hush  !  Here  comes  the  Empress,  lot 
us  be  happy  for  her  sake." 

And  -with  a  sweet  smile,  Isabella  advanced  to  greet  her  mother-in- 
law.  TC 

"  My  dearest  daughter,"  said  the  Empress,  "  I  long  for  this  ceremo- 
nial to  end,  that  together  we  may  enjoy  our  bappiness  en  famille.  To- 
day we  must  dine  in  private,  unless  you  wish  it  otherwise,  for  to-day 
you  are  empressof  all  hearts,  and  your  wishes  are  commands." 

Isabella  raised  the  hand  of  the  Empress  to  her  lips.  "1  have  but  one 
wish  to-day,  your  Majesty,"  said  she,  "  it  is  that  you  love -me." 

"That  wish  was  granted  before  it  was  uttered,  my  beloved  child,"  re- 
plied the  Empress  tenderly,  "for  indeed  I  love  you  more  and  more 
each  day  of  my  life,  and  when  I  see  you  and  my  son  together,  you  hap- 
piness seems  like  the  old  melody  of  my  own  happy  bridal  so  many 
years  ago." 

"  And  yet,"  said  Isabella,  "your  Majesty  looks  so  young " 

"  No,  child,  i  am  a  grand  toother,"  replied  the  Empress  smiling  proud- 
ly, "  but  my  heart  is  as  young  as  ever,  and  it  leaps  with  joy  when  I  look 
upon  my  son  whom  you  have  made  so  happy.  Why,  his  heart  looks  out  of 
his  great  blue  eyes  with  such — —But  see  for  yourself,  here  he  comes.'* 

At  this  moment,  the  Archduke  entered  the  room  and  advanced  to- 
wards his  mother,  while  at  the  door,  apparently  awaiting  his  return, 
stood  the  Emperor  and  the  Lord  High  Chancellor,  Kaunitr. 

"  Pardon  me,  your  Majesty,  if  I  interrupt  you,"  said  the  Archduke. 
"I  hajve  just  learned  from  the  Marshal  of  the  imperial  household  that 
your  Majesty  has  declined  going  to  the  opera  to-night.  Can  this  be  pos- 
sible, when  Gluck's  new  opera  has  been  rehearsing  for  two  months  with 
especial  reference  to  this  occasion  V 

"  It  can,"  replied  the  Empress,  "  for  I  do  not  interdict  the  representa- 
tion, I  only  absent  myself  from  it." 

The  Archduke  crimsoned,  and  he  was  about  to  make  some  hasty  re- 
ply, when  he  felt  the  pressure  of  his  ^yife's  hand  upon  his  arm.  He 
smiled  and  controlled  himself  at  once. . 

"  Forgive  me,  if  I  venture  to  remonstrate  with  your  Majesty,"  replied 
he  goodhumoredly.  " This  new  opera  of  Gluck  is  a  musical  gem,  and 
is  well  worthy  of  your  Majesty's  notice." 

— "  I  have  been  told,  on  the  contrary,  that  it  is  very  tiresome,"  ex- 
claimed the  Empress  with  impatience.  "The  Libretto  is  heavy,  and  the 
music  also.  It  is  highly  probable  that  the  opera  will  fail,  and  it  would 
certainly  be  unfortunate  if,  on  this  day  of  rejoicing,  we  should  assemble 
there  to  witness  the  failure." 

"  But  your  Majesty  may  have  been  misinformed,"  persisted  Joseph. 
"Let  me  beg  of  you,  my  dear  mother,  for  the  sake  of  the  great  Maestro, 
who  would  take  your  absence  sorely  to  heart,  as  well  as  for  the  sake  of 
the  Director,  Count  Dqrazzo,  who  has  taken  such  pains  to  produce  this 
j)ew  master-piece — let  me  be^  you  to  reconsider  your  decision." 


SABELLA.  89 

"  And  allow  me  to  add  ray  entreaties  to  those  of  Jos^h,"  said  the 
Emperor,  entering  the  room.  "All  Vienna  awaits  the  new  representa- 
tion as  a  high  artistic  gratification.  Without  your  Majesty's  presence, 
the  triumph  of  the  Maestro  will  be 'incomplete." 

"  And  the  Emperor  too  opposes  me  ?"  said  Maria  Theresa.  "  Does 
he  too  desert  the  old  style,  to  follow  these  new-fangled  musical  eccen- 
tricities ?  Have  we  not  all  enjoyed  the  opera  as  it  exists  at  present? 
And  if  so,  why  shall  this  Master  Gluck  step  suddenly  forward  and  an- 
nounce to  us  that  we  know  nothing  of  music,  and  that  what  we  have 
hitherto  admired  as  such  was  nothing  more  than  trumpery.  Why  does 
he  disdain  the  poetry  of  Mefastasio,  to  adopt  that  of  a  man  whom  no- 
body knows?  1  will  not  lend  ray  hand  to  mortify  the  old  man  who  for 
thirty  years  has  been  our  court  poet.  I  owe  it  to  him,  at  least,  not  to 
appear  at  this  representation,  and  that  is  reason  enough  for  inc  to  refuse 
my  presence  there." 

"  But  Calzabigi's  poem  is  of  surpassing  beauty,"  remonstrated  the 
Emperor;  "for  Kaunitz  himself  has  seen  it,  and  is  in  raptures  with  it." 

"Ah,  Kaunitz  too  has  given  his  adherence  to  the  new  musical  caprice 
of  Master  Gluckf  said  the  Empress,  signing  to  the  Count  to  come  forward. 

"  Yes,  your  Majesty,"  said  Kaunitz  bowing,  "  I  also  am  for  the  new 
and  startling,  whether  in  politics  or  in  music.  I  have  learned  this  lesson 
from  my  imperial  mistress,  whose  new  line  of  policy  now  commands 
the  admiration  of  all  Europe." 

The  Empress  received  these  flattering  words  with  an  emotion  of  visi- 
ble pleasure;  for  it  was  seldom  that  Kaunitz  paid  compliments,  even  to 
sovereigns. 

'•  You  mean,  then,  that  Gluck  has  not  only  produced  something  new, 
but  something  of  worth  filso?" 

"Yes,  your  Majesty,  music  has  cut  oflf  her  cue,  and  really,  in  her  new 
coiffure,  she  is  divinely  beautiful.  Moreover,  your  Majesty  has  reward- 
ed the  seventy  years  of  Metastasio  with  a  rich  pension,  proof  enough  .to 
him  of  the  estimation  in  which  his  talents  are  held.  Metastasio  belongs 
to  the  old  regime  you  have  pensioned  it  off;  Calzabigi  and  Gluck  are 
children  of  our  new  Austria.  Your  Majesty's  self  has  created  this  Aus- 
tria, and  you  owe  to  her  children  your  imperial  countenance  and  favor." 

"  But  I  have  been  told  that  there  will  be  some  strife  to-night  between 
the  rival  parties,"  said  the  Empress. 

"  And  since  when  has  your  Majesty  shunned  the  battle-field  ?"  asked 
Kaunitz. 

"  But  the  defeat,  Count,  I  fear  the  defeat.     The  opera  is  sure  to  fail." 

"  No  one  knows  better  than  your  Majesty  how  to  console  the  van- 
quished. Your  Majesty  was  n^ver  greater  than  when  after  the  defeat  of 
jbieldmarshal  Daun,  you  went  forth  to  meet  him  with  all  the  honors 
which  you  would  have  awarded  to  a  victorious  general.''^  If  Gluck  fails 
to-day,  he  will  not  be  the  less  a  great  artist,  a;id  your  Majesty  will  sus- 
tain him  under  his  reverses."  - 

*  ARer  Hie  b»t««  of  Torgera  wMrtJ  Ihwn  Hk^. 
\ 


90  aOSEPIl  THE  SECOiSlji. 

The  Empress  laughed,  *'  It  is  dangerous  to  contend  with  Kaanitz,  for 
he  slays  me  with  my  own  weapons.  x\nd  you,  too^ my  husband,  would 
■have  me  abandon  Hasse  and  Metastasio,  who  are  so  pious  and  ?o  good, 
for  this  Gluck,  whom  I  have  never  met  inside  of  a  chiirch'?  Gluck  is 
not  even  a  christian." 

"  But  he  is  a  genius,"  cried  out  Joseph,  "  and  genius  is  pleasing  in  the 
sight  of  God.  Metastasio  and  Hasse  are  old,  and  having  nothing  better 
to  do,  they  go  to  church.  If  they  were  young,  your  Majesty  w^ould  nob 
meet  them  so  often,  I  fancy." 

Tlie  face  of  the  Empress  grew  scarlet  while  the  Archduke  poured 
forth  these  thoughtless  words,  and  all  present  felt  that  Gluck  and  his 
■caUsse  were  lost. 

But  Isabella  came  to  the  rescue.     Approaching  the  Empress,  and  kiss- ' 
ing  her  hand,  she  said  :  "  Your  Majesty  has  been  so  good  as  to  say  that 
today  you  would  refuse  me  nothing.     I  have  two  requests  to  make. 
May 'I  speak?" 

"Yes,  dear  child,  you  may,"  replied  the  Empress,  already  appeased 
by  the  gentle  voice  of  her  beloved  daughter-in-law.  "I  know  so  well 
that  you  will  ask  nothing  unseemly  that  I  do  not  fear  to  grant  your  re- 
•questri.     What  are-  they  '?" 

"First,  your  Majesty,  I  beg  that  my  husband  and  I  be  permitted  to 
.attend  the  Mass  that  is  to  be  celebrated  in  your  private  chapel,  that  by 
your  side  we  may  beg  of  God  to  give  peace  to  Austria,  and  to  bless  us, 
jour  Majesty's  own  family,  with  unity  and  love  among  ourselves.  Will 
you  permit  this?"  » 

The  Empress,  in  her  animated  way,  drew  the  Archduchess  towards 
her,  and  kissed  her  tenderly. 

"You  are  an  angel,  Isabella,"  said  she,  "and  discord  ceases  at  the 
vevy  sound  of  your  voice.  Yes,  dearest  child,  you  shall  come  with  Jo- 
seph ;  and,  side  by  side,  we  will  pray  for  peace  and  family  concord.  For 
the  second  boon,  I  guess  it.  Is  it  not  that  I  grant  your  husband's  peti- 
tion  V] 

Isabella  smiling,  bowed  her  head,  and  the  Empress  turned  towards 
the  Emperor. 

"  Well,  your  Majesty,"  continued  she,  "  since  my  presence  is  indis- 
pensable, I  bow  to  your  superior  judgment  in  Art,  and  the  Court  must 
attend  the  opera  to-night.  Are  you  satisfied,  my  son  ?"  asked  she  of  the 
Archduke,  "xlre  you  satisfied  now  that  I  have  sacrificed  my  prejudices 
to  give  you  pleasure?  And  on  some  future  occasion  will  you  do  as 
much  for  me,  should  I  require  it?" 

"  With  shame  I  shall  remember  your  Majesty's  goodness  in  pardon- 
ing my  ungracious  behaviour  to-day,"  replied  the  Archduke,  fervently- 
pressing  his  mother's  hands  to  his  lips. 

''  Let  us  forget  it  also,  my  son,"  said  Maria  Theresa,  with  one  of  her 
enchanting  smiles  ;  "  this  is  a  day  of  rejoicing,  and  no  clouds  shall  dark- 
en our  happiness.  Let  us  now  retire  .to  the  chapel,  for  believe  me, 
dear  son,  it  is  not  well  to  forget  our  Heavenly  Father  until  age  forces  us 


ISABELLA.  91 

to  remember  our  dependence.  A  great  and  brilllftnt  destiny  is  before 
you,  Joseph,  and  much  you  need  help  from  Heaven.  Watch  and  pray 
■while  you  are  young,  that  you  may  call  down  the  blessing  of  God  upon 
your  career." 


CHAPTER  XX. 

ORPHEUS  AND  EUBYDICK. 

On  that  night,  all  Vienna  sped  to  the  Imperial  Opera-house.  Not 
lords  and  ladies  alone,  but  commoners  and  artisans,  with  their  wives, 
thronged  to  hear  the  wonderful  music  which  for  three  weeks  had  divided 
the  Viennese  into  two  bitter  factions.  On  one  side  stood  Metastasio, 
the  venerable  court-poet,  whose  laurels  dated  from  the  reign  of  the  Em- 
press's father.  Linked  with  his  fame,  was  that  of  Hasse,  who  for  forty 
years  had  been  called  "i/  caro  Sassone.'^  Hasse,  who  had  composed  so 
many  operas,  was  often  heard  to  say,  that,  when  it  came  upon  him  un- 
awares, he  did  not  know  his  own  music. 

All  Italy  had  declared  for  Hasse  and  Metastasio,  and  in  scornful  secu- 
rity the  Italians  had  predicted  the  discomfiture  of  the  new  school  of 
music. 

On  the  other  hand  were  Gluck  and  his  friend  Calzabigi,  whose  parti- 
sans disdained  the  old  style,  and  lauded  the  new  one  to  the  skies.  Gluck 
was  perfectly  indifferent  to  all  this  strife  of  party.  Not  once,  since  the 
first  day  of  rehearsal,  had  his  countenance  lost  its  expression  of  calm 
and  lofty  security.  Resolved  to  conquer,  he  receded  before  no  obstacle. 
In  vain  had  the  prima  donna,  the  renowned  Gabrielle,  complained  of 
hoarseness  ;  Gluck  blandly  excused  her,  and  volunteered  to  send  for  her 
rival,  Tibaldi,  to  take  the  role  of  Eurydice.  This  threat  cured  the 
hoarseness,  and  Gabrielle  attended  the  rehearsals  punctually.  In  vain 
had  Guadagni  attempted,  by  a  few  Jioritures,  to  give  an  Italian  turn  to 
the  severe  simplicity  of  Orpheus'  air.  At  the  least  deviation  from  his 
text,  Gluck,  with  a  frown,  would  recall  the  ambitious  Tenor,  and  do  away 
vith  his  embellishments.  In  vain  had  the  chorus-singers  complained  of 
the  impossibility  of  learning  their  parts.  Gluck  instructed  them  one  by 
one.  He  had  trained  the  Orchestra,  too,  to  fullest  precision  ;  and  finally, 
every  difficulty  overcome,  the  great  opera  of  Orpheus  and  Eurydice  was 
ready  for  representation  on  the  birthday  of  the  Archduchess  Isabella. 

Shortly  before  the  hour  of  the  performance,  Gluck  entered  his  draw, 
ing-room  in  a  rich  court-dress,  his  coat  covered  with  decorations.  His 
wife  met  hira,  also  elegantly  attired,  sparkling  with  diamonds. 


92  JOSEfH  THE  SECOIfD. 

She  held  out  her  hand,  and  smiled  a  liappy  smile. 

"  Look  at  me,  my  hero,"  said  she.  "  1  have  arrayed  myself  in  my  wed- 
ding-jewels. J  feel  to-nightasl  didon  theday^when  we  plighted  our  faith  to 
one  another  before  the  altar.  Then,  dear  Christopher,  our  hearts  were  uni- 
ted ;  to-day — our  souls.     Is  it  not  so'?     And  are  we  not  one  in  spirit*?" 

"  Yes,  dearest,  yes,"  replied  GJuck,  folding  her  in  his  arms,  "never 
have  J  so  prized  and  loved  you,  as  in  these  later  days  of  strife  and  strug- 
gle. Well  do  I  feel  what  a  blessing  to  man  is  a  noble  woman  !  OftenP 
during  our  rehearsals,  when  1  have  encountered  the  supercilious  glances 
of  performers  and  orchestra,  the  thought  of  your  dear  self  has  given  me 
strength  to  confront  and  defy  their  scorn.  And  when  weary  in  mind 
and  body,  I  have  found  my  way  home,  the  touch  of  your  hand  has  re- 
fix'shed  and  cooled  the  fever  in  my  heart.  And  often  when  others  have 
pronounced  my  music  worthless,  I  might  iiave  despaired,  but  for  the  re- 
membrance of  your  emotion.  I  thought  of  ybur  tears  and  of  your  rap- 
ture, and  hope  revived  in  my  sick  heart.  Your  applause,  dear  wife,  haa 
sustained  me  to  the  end." 

''  No,  dear  Christopher,"  replied  Marianne,  "  not  my  applause,  but  th& 
might  of  your  own  inspiration.  That  which  is  truly  great  must  sooner 
or  later  prevail  over  mediocrity." 

— "The  world  is  not  so  appreciative  as  you  fancy,  Marianne!  Else 
had  Socrates  not  drunk  of  the  poisoned  beaker,  nor  Christ,  our  Lord, 
been  crucified.  Mediocrity  is  popular,  because  it  has  the  sympathy  of 
the  masses.  Not  only  does  it  come  within  their  comprehension,  but  it 
is  accommodating; — it  does  not  wound  their  littleness.  I  know,  dear 
wife,  that  my  opera  is  a  veritable  work  of  Art,  and  therefore  do  I  trem- 
ble that  its  verdict  is  in  the  hands  of  mediocrity.  Poor  Marianne! 
You  have  arrayed  yourself  for  a  bridal,  and  it  way  happen  that  we  go 
to  the  funeral  of  my  master-piece." 

"  Well,  even  so,"  replied  the  spirited  wife,  "I  shall  not  have  decked 
myself  in  vain ;  I  shall  die  like  the  Indian  widow,  upon  the  funeral  pile 
of  my  dear  husband's  greatness.  I  will  both  live  and  die  with  you, 
Maestro;  whether  you  are  apotheosized  or  stoned,  your  worth  can  be 
neither  magnified  nor  lessened  by  the  world.  My  faith  in  your  genius 
is  independent  of  public  opinion  ;  and  whether  you  conquer  or  die,  your  ♦ 
opera  must  live." 

"  How  I  wish,"  said  Gluck  thoughtfully,  "  that  ,from  above,  I  might 
look  down  a  hundred  years  hence  and  see  whether  indeed  my  works  will 
have  value  on  earth,  or  b6  thrown  aside  as  antiquated  trumpery  !  But 
it  is  useless — an  impenetrable  cloud  covers  the  future,  and  we  must  e'en 
content  ourselves  with  the  verdict  of  the  day.  Let  me  be  strong  to 
meet  it ! — Come,  Marianne,  the  carriage  is  coming  to  the  door,  and  we 
must  go.  But  is  all  this  splendor  to  be  hidden  behind  the  lattice-work 
of  my  little  stage-box  ?" 

"  Oh,  no,  Christopher,"  said  his  wife  gaily,  *'  on  such  a  night  as  this, 
I  have  taken  another  box,  from  whence  I  can  be  a  happy  witness  of  ray 
husband's  triumph." 


ISABELLA.  93 

"  What  intrepid  confidence  the  woman  possesses,"  exclaimed  Gluck, 
catching  his  wife's  gayety.  "  P>ut  how  will  my  brave  champion  feel,  if 
she  has  to  see  as  well  as  hear  the  hisses  that  may  possibly  greet  us  to- 
night?".   • 

"  I  shall  feel  heartily  ashamed  of  the  nudience,"  replied  Marianne, 
*'  and  shall  take  no  pains  to  conceal  my  contempt." 

"  We  shall  see,"  answered  Gluck,  handing  her  to  the  carriage,  and  fol- 
lowing her,  with  a  merry  laugh,     "Now,  forward  !" 

Within  the  theatre,  all  was  commotion — on  one  side,  the  partisans  of 
the  old  school,  who  from  prejudice  or  custom  adhered  to  Hasso  andMe- 
tastasio,  predicted  failure.  This  party  was  composed  of  Italians,  and  of  all 
those  who  had  "gone  out  "  with  old  Austria.  New  Austria,  on  the  oth- 
er hand,  with  all  the  young  diUetanie  of  Vienna,  were  resolved^to  sus- 
tain Gluck,  and,  if  possible,  secure  to  his  new  opera  an  unprecedented 
triumph.  The  excitement  reached  even  those  boxes  where  sat  ihe  elite 
of  the  Viennese  nobility.  Even  their  voices  were  to  be  heard  discuss- 
ing the  merits  or  demerits  of  the  musical  apple  of  discord.  The  Gluck- 
ites  related  that  Gpadagni,  who,  at  first,  had  been  strongly  prejudiced 
against  the  opera,  had  finally  been  moved  to  tears,  by  jts  exquisite  har- 
mony ;  and  had  said  to  Gluck  that  for  the  first  .time  he  was  learning  to 
'whatirheightsof  beauty  music  might  soar.  The  Hasseites  replied  that 
the  opera  was  none  the  less  tedious  for  Guadagni's  word.  Moreover,  if 
Hasse  and  Metastasio  had  not  openly  condemned  Gluck's  musical  inno- 
vations, it  was  because  they  were  both  satisfied  that  the  opera  would 
damn  itself,  and  they  ^were  present  to  witness  the  discomfiture  of  its 
composer.*  Suddenly  there  was  a  hush  in  the  theatre.  The  attention 
of  the  disputants  was  directed  towards  a  small  box,  ]»  the  first  tier,  the 
door  of  which  had  opened  to  give  entrance  to  two  persons.  One  was  an 
old  man,  with  silver-white  hair  which  flowed  in  ringlets  on  either  side  of 
his  pale  and  delicate  face.  His  thin  lips  were  parted  with  an  afl^uble 
smile,  and  the  glance  of  his  small  dark  eyes  was  mild,  benevolent,  and 
in  keeping  with  the  rest  of  his  countenance.  His  small,  bent  figure  was 
clothed  in, the  cassock  of  an  ^iitf  ;  but  the  simplicity  of  his  costimie 
was  heightened  by  the  order  of  Theresa  which,  attached  to  a  silk  ribbon, 
hung  around  his  neck.  * 

The  other  was  a  tall  gaunt  man,  in  the  dress  of  court  maestro  de  ca- 
pello.  His  lean  face  was  proud  and  serious,  his  large  mouth  wore  an 
expression  of  scorn,  and  his  full-orbed  light-blue  eyes  had  a  glance  of 
power  which  accorded  well  with  his  lofty  stature.  The  two  advanced 
arm  in  arm  towards  the  railing,  and,  at  their  appearance,  a  storm  of  ap- 
plause arose  from  the  parterre,  while  the  partizans.  of  the  Italian  school 
cried  "  Long  live  Hasse  !  Long  live  Metastasio  !" 

They  bowed  and  took  their  seats.  While  this  was  transpiring,  the 
wife  of  Gluck  entered  her  box.  With  a  quiet  smile  she  listened  to  the 
shouts  that  greeted  her  hu.sband's  rivals.  "  He,  too,"  thought  ^he,  "will 
have  his  greeting  and  his  triumph." 

*  Anton  Schnsid ;  Rttter  V«n  Gluck,  page  92, 


94  JOSEPFT  THE  SKCOXD. 

Shf>  TTas  not  mistaken.  No  sooner  !ind  Gluck  appeared  iti  the  orches- 
tra, llian,  iVoin  Itn.xes  as  well  as  [)arterro,  a  thousand  voices  pealed  forth 
his  welcome.     "  Ixmp  live  Gliicli !   Lontr  live  the  prcat  Maestro  !" 

Gluck  bowed  pracefiilly,  while  Marianne,  happy  but  tranquil,  unfold- 
ed her  jewelled  fan,  and  leaned  back  in  supreme  satisfaction.  Metas- 
tasio  whispered  something  to  llasse,  who  nodded  his  head  ond  then  be- 
gan to  run  his  fingers  through  the  masses  of  his  bushy  gray  hair.  Sud- 
denly were  heard  these  words: 

"  Her  Majesty,  the  Empress,  and  the  Imperial  Court." 

Hushed  now  was  every  sound.  Every  «ye  was  turned  towards  tho 
box  surmounted  by  the  double-headed  cagb^  of  Austria.  The  Marshal 
of  the  household  appeared  with  his  golden  wand,  the  doors  of  the  box 
flew  asunder,  the  audience  rose,  and  the  PJmpress,  leaning  on  the  arm  of 
the  Emperor,  entered  her  box.  Magnificently  dressed,  and  sparkling 
•with  diamonds,  her  transcendant  beauty  seemed  still  more  to  dazzle  the 
eyes  of  her  enraptured  subjects.-  She  was  followed  by  the  Archduke, 
who,  in  conveisation  with  hi?  wife,  seemed  scarcely  to  heed  the  greetings 
of  his  future  subjects.  Behind  them  came  a  bevy  of  princes  and  prin- 
cesses, all  of  whom,  including  little  Marie  Antoinette  and  Maximilian, 
the  two  youngest,  had  been  permitted  to  accompany  the  imperial  party. 
It  was  a  family  festival,  and  Maria  Tberesa  chose  on  this  occasionto  ap- 
pear before  her  people  in  the  character  of  a  mother. 

The  Empress  and  her  husband  came  forward  and  bowed.  The  former 
then  glided  gracefully  into  her  large  gilt  arm-chair,  while  the  latter  signed 
to  his  children  to  be  seated. 

This  was  the  signal  for  the, music  to  begin.  The  audience  resnmed 
their  scats,  Gluck  raised  the  leader's  stafT,  and  signed  to  the  musicians. 

The  overture  began.  In  breathless  silence  the  audience  listened  to 
that  short,  earnest  overture,  whose  horns,  trumpets  and  hautboys  seem- 
ed  to  herald  the  coming  of  kings  and  heroes.  The  curtain  rose,  and  in  a 
funereal  hall,  Orpheus  poured  for'.h  his  grief  for  the  loss  of  his  Eurydice. 
With  this  pathetic  complaint,  miiigled  the  voices  of  the  chorus  of  mourn- 
ers ;  then  a  sr)l()  from  Orpheus,  in  which  ho  bewails  anew  thefhte  (^f  tho 
noble  woman  who  had  died  for  his  Sake.  The  God  of  Love  appears, 
counselling  him  to  descend,  himself,  to  the  infernal  regions.  Orj)heus 
Btrengihened  and  revived  by  hope,  resolves  to  tempt  the  dangerous  de- 
scent, and  calls  upon  his  friends  to  share  his  fate. 

The  curtain  fell  at  the  end  of  the  first  act,  amidst  the  profoundest  si- 
lence. The  Hasseites  shrugged  their  shoulders,  and  even  Gluck's  warm- 
est adherents  felt  undecided  what  to  say  of  this  severe  Doric  music 
which  disdained  all  the  coquettiies  of  art,  and  rejected  all  superfluous 
embellishment. 

*'  I  am  glad  that  Metastasio  is  here,"  said  the  Empress,  "  for  his  pre- 
sence will  prove  to  Calzabigi  that  he  is  not  a  pensioned  dotard.  And 
what  thinks  my  daughter  of  the  opera?"  asked  Maria  Theresa  of  the  lu- 
fmta.  Cut  when  she  saw  Isabella's  fiice,  her  heart  grew  faint  with  fear. 
The  Archduchess  was  pale  as  death,  and  licx  countenance  wore  an  ex- 


ISABELLA.  95 

pression  of  grief  bordering  on  despair.  Her  large  dark  eyes,  distended 
to  tlieir  utmost,  were  fixed  upon  the  ceiling;  and  she  seenied  as  if  she 
still  heard  the  wailings  of  Orphensand  the  phvintivc  chorus  of  his  friends. 
Joseph  saw  nothing  of  this.  He  had  taken  a  seat  further  back,  and  was 
chatting  gaily  with  his  little  brothers  and  sisters. 

"God  help  me,"  murmured  the  Empress,  "she  looks  as  if  she  were 
dying.  Oh,  if  she  were  right  with  her  dismal  prophecy  of  death!  What 
if  indeed  she  is  to  leave  us  !  Have  mercy,  Oh  God  !  1  know  that  I 
Jove  her  too  well.  She  will  be  taken  from  me;  Heaven  will  claim  from 
me  this  sacrifice."* 

Isabella  shuddered,  and  awakened  from  her  horrid  dream.  Her  eyes 
fell,  her  cheeks  flushed,  and  once  more  her  lips  parted  with  a  gentle 
smile.  With  a  tender  and  appealing  look,  she  turned  towards  the  Em- 
press and  kissed  her  hand. 

"Pardon  me,  your  Majesty,"  whispered  she,  "the  music  had  entranced 
and  bewildered  me.  I  was  in  another  world,  and  was  lost  to  the  pre- 
sent." 

"The  music  pleases  you,  then  ?"  asked  the  Empress. 

"Oh,  your  Majesty,"  cried  Isabella,  "this  is  no  music  to  give  plfa- 
sure ;  it  is  the  sublimest  language  of  Truth  and  Love  !" 

"  Then,"  said  the  Empress  tenderly,  "  if  you  prize  it  so  highly,  dear- 
est, I  will  prove  to  you  how  dearly  I  love  you,  for  your  verdict  and 
mine  disagree.  Our  next  festive  day  will  be  that  on  which  Joseph  is  to 
be  crowned  King  of  Rome.  And  we  shall  do  homage  to  the  taste  of  the 
Queen  of  Rome,  by  ordering  that  this  opera  be  repeated  on  the  occasion 
of  her  coronation." 

Isabella  shook  her  head.  "I  shall  not  live  long  enough  to  be  crown- 
ed Queen  of  Rome."f 

Maria  Theresa  was  about  to  tnurmur  a  reply,  when  the  curtain  rose, 
and  the  second  act  of  the  opera  opened.  • 

The  audience,  who  had  been  loudly  canvassing  the  music,  were  silen- 
ced, and  awaited  in  breathless  expectation  the  unfolding  of  the  plot. 
Soon  came  the  wonderful  scene  between  Or[iheus  and  the  Furies  who 
guard  the  gates  of  Avernus.  The  beseeching  tones  of  Orpheus,  and  the 
inexorable  "No!"  of  the  Furies,  made  every  listener  tremble.  Even 
Hasse,  overcome  by  the  sublimity  of  the  music,  bowed  his  head  with 
the  rest;  and  Metastasio,  enraptured  with  the  words,  murmured  "^A, 
che  poesia  divina!"  Murmurs  of  applause  were  heard  from  every  side 
of  the  theatre;  they  grew  with  every  scene,  and  at  last  burst  forth  in 
■wild  shouts.  It  seemed  as  if  the  audience  were  gradually  rising  to  an 
appreciation  of  this  new  and  unknown  music;  until  with  one  accord  its 
matx'hless  beauty  burst  upon  their  hoarts  and  overpowered  them. 

When  the  curtain  fell  a  second  time,  the  applause  knew  no  bounds. 
The  ^Gluckites  in  triumphant  silence  hearkened  to  the  voices  of  the  deep- 
ly-moved multitude,  who  gave  full  vent  to  their  emotions,  and  noisily 
■      — / 

•Thr  Empress's  words,    Carracloll :  Life  of  Joseph  8d,  p.  8T. 
tls»ben»'»  own  word*.    ^rkJrall,  IL     I'.  *>4. 


96  JOSEPH  THE  SECOND 

exchanged  the  thoughts  to  which  the  wonderful  opera  had  given  birth„ 

Marianne,  supremely  happy,  listened  enraptured,  while  wreaths  fell 
in  showers  around  the  head  of  her  beloved  husband.  The  adherents  of 
Hasse  and  Metastasio  no'  longer  dared  to  raise  their  voices  in  opposition 
to  the  public  verdict.  lu  this  state  of  excitement,  the  third  act  began. 
With  increasing  delight,  the  audience  listened.  When  Eurydice,  con- 
demned to  return  to  the  infernal  regions,  sang  her  plaintive  aria,  sobs 
were  heard  throughout  the  theatre,  and  murn>urs  of  applause  were  au- 
dible during  the  whole  scene.  But  when  Orpheus  concluded  his  pas. 
sionate  aria"  Che  faro  senza  Eurydice,^''  the  people  could  contain  their 
enthusiasm  no  longer.  Exalted,  carried  away,  with  beating  hearts  and 
tearful  eyes,  they  cried  '■''da  capo  f''  and  when  Guadagni,  in  compliance 
with  the  call,  had  repeated  his  solo,  the  audience  shouted  out  so  often 
the  name  of  Gluck,  that  he  could  resist  his  joy  no  longer.  He  turned, 
and  they  saw  his  noble  face  scarlet  with  blushes;  then  arose  another 
storm.  Again  and  again  the  "vivas"  and  the  clappings  were  renewed, 
each  time  more  frantic  than  before. 

Hasse,  tired  of  the  spectacle  of  his  rival's  triumph,  had  disappeared. 
Metastasio,  more  magnanimous,  had  remained,  and  had  applauded  as 
loudly  as  any.  Marianne,  to  conceal  her  tears,  had  hidden  her  face  be- 
hind her  open  fan  ;  and  as  the  applause  of  the  people  grew  louder  until 
it  resembled  the  shouts  of  victory,  she  murmured  "I  knew  it!  I  knew 
it !     The  beautiful  and  true  must  always  prevail." 

The  fire  of  enthusiasm  had  spread  to  the  imperial  box.     The  Emperor 

had  more  than  once  been  heard  to  call  out  "Bravo,"  and  Maria  Theresa  had 

several  times  felt  her  eyes  grow  dim.     But  she  brushed  away  her  tears 

and  exclaimed,  "It  is  beautiful,  certainly,  but  it  is  a  heathen  opera  m 

'which,  not  God  but  Gods  are  invoked  !" 

Isabella  said  nothing.  She  had  held  up  before  her  face  the  bouquet 
whidi  her  husband  had  gathered  for  her,  that  her  tears  might  fall  unseen 
among  its  flowers.  Joseph  saw  those  tears  shining  like  dew-drops  upon 
its  rose-leaves,  and,  taking  it  from  her  hands,  he  kissed  them  away.  "Do 
not  weep,  my  Isabella,"  whispered  he  tenderly.  "Your  tears  fall  like  a 
weight  of  sorrow^  upon  my  heart.  Wipe  them  away,  beloved.  The  day 
will  come  when  you  also  shall  be  an  Empress,  and  your  people  will  do 
you  homage  as  I  do  now ;  and  then  you  will  have  it  in  your  power  to 
heal  their  sorrows,  and  wipe  away  their  tears ;  and  they  will  love  and 
bless  you  as  I " 

A  final  burst  of  applause  drowned  the  voice  of  the  Archduke.  The 
opera  was  at  an  end,  and  the  people  were  calling  again  for  Gluck,  the 
creator  of  the  lyric  drama. 


ISABELLA,:  97 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

IN  THREE  YEAKS,  WK  MEET  AOAi:?. 

The  war  was  over.  All  Vienna  was  rejoicing  that  the  struggle  which 
had  cost  so  much  bloodshed  was  at  an  end,  and  that  Austria  and  Prus- 
sia had  made  peace. 

Neither  of  the  two  had  gained  anything  by  this  long  war,  except  glo- 
rious victories,  honorable  wounds,  and  a  knowledge  of  the  power  and 
bravery  of  its  enemy.  Both  had  serious  burthens  to  bear,  which,  for 
many  years  to  come,  would  be  painful  reminders  of  the  past.  Austria, 
to  cover  the  expenses  of  the  war,  had  invented  paper  money,  and  had 
flooded  the  empire  with  millions  of  coupons.  Prussia  had  coined  baso 
money,  and  all  the  employees  of  the  state  had  received  notes,  which 
were  nicknamed  "  Beamtenscheine."  After  the  war  these  notes  were 
exchanged  for  this  base  currency,  which  soon  afterwards  was  withdrawn 
from  circulation  as  worthless.  But  Prussia  had  obtained  from  Austria 
full  recognition  of  her  rights  to  Silesia,  and  she  in  return  had  pledged 
herself  to  vote  for  Joseph  as  candidate  for  the  crown  of  Rome,  and  to 
support  the  pretensions  of  the  Empress  to  the  reversion  of  the  Duchy  of 
Modena. 

We  have  said  that  all  Vienna  was  rejoicing,  and  turned  out  to  receive 
the  returning  army  with  laurel  wreaths  and  oaken  boughs.  The  people 
breathed  freely  once  more ;  they  shouted  and  feasted,  and  prepared 
themselves  to  enjoy  to  their  utmost  the  blessings  of  peace. 

But  while  the  nation  shouted  for  joy,  a  cloud  was  gathering  over  the 
Imperial  palace,  and  its  black  shadow  darkened  the  faces  of  the  once 
happy  family. 

There  wanted  now  but  a  few  months  to  complete  the  third  year  of 
the  Archduke's  marriage,  and  the  young  princesses  seized  every  oppor- 
tunity to  make  Schemes  of  pleasure  for  the  joyous  anniversary.  Isabel- 
la viewed  these  projects  with  a  mournful  smile.  Her  countenance  be- 
came sadder  and  more  serious,  except  when  in  the  presence  of  her  hus- 
band. There  she  assumed  an  appearance  of  gayety  ;  laughing,  jesting, 
and  drawing  from  her  violin  its  sweetest  soun3s.  But  with  her  atten- 
dants, or  in  the  company  of  the  other  members  of  the  imperial  family, 
she  was  melancholy,  and  she  made  her  preparations  for  death,  which 
she  foretold  would  overtake  her  very  soon. 

"You  believe  this  terrible  presentiment,  my  daughter?"  said  the  Em- 
press to  her  one  day,  "  Will  you  indeed  forsake  us  who  love  you  so 
dcarlv?" 


98  JOSEPH  THE  SECOND 

"  It  is  not  that  1  will,  but  that  I  musi  go,"  replied  she.  "  It  is  God 
who  calls  me,  and  I  must  obey." 

"  But  why  do  you  think  that  God  has  called  you  ?" 

Isabella  was  silent  for  a  moment,  then  she  raised  her  eyes  with  a 
strange,  unspeakable  look  to  the  face  of  the  Empress.  "A  dream  has 
announced  it  to  me,"  said  she,  ''a  dream  in  which  1  place  implicit  faith." 

"A  dream  1"  said  the  pious  Empress  to  herself.  "  It  is  true  that  God 
sometimes  speaks  to  men  in  dreams;  sometimes  reveals  to  us  in  sleep 
secrets  which  He  denies  to  our  waking  earthly  eyes.  What  was  your 
dream  love  V* 

"  What  I  saw?"  w'hispered  she,  almost  inaudibly.  "There  are  visions 
which  no  words  can  describe.  They  do  not  pass  as  pictures  before  the 
eye,  but  with  unquenchable  fire  ihey  brand  themselves  upon  the  heart. 
What  I  saw?  I  saw  a  beloved  and  dying  face,  a  breathing  corpse.  I 
lay  overwhelmed  with  grief,  near  the  outstretched  form  of  my — my — 
mother.  Oh,  believe  me,  the  prayer  of  despair  has  power  over  death 
itseJf,  and  the  cry  of  a  broken  heart  calls  back  the  parting  soul.  I  wept, 
I  implored,  I  prayed  until  the  dim  eyes  opened,  the  icy  lips  moved,  and 
the  stiffening  corpse  arose  and  looked  at  me,  at  me  who  knelt  in  wild  an- 
guish by  its  side — 

"Horrible,"  cried  the  Empress.  "And  this  awful  dream  did  not 
awake  you?" 

"  No,  I  did  not  awake,  and  even  now  it  seems  to  me  that  all  these 
thin<Ts  were  real.  I  saw  the  corpse  erect,  and  I  heard  the  words  which 
its  hollow  and  unearthly  voice  spoke  to  me.  '  We  shalUmeet  again  in 
three ' " 

"  Say  no  more,  say  no  more,"  said  the  pale  Empress,  crossing  herself. 
"You  speak  with  such  an  air  of  conviction,  that  for  a  moment  I  too 
seemed  to  see  this  dreadful  dream.     When  had  you  your  dream  ?" 

"  In  the  autumn  of  1760,  your  Majesty." 
'  The  Empress  said  nothing.     She  imprinted  a  kiss  upon  the  forehead 
of  the  Infanta,  and  hastily  withdrew  to  her  own  apartments. 

"  I  will  pray  !  I  will  pray  !"  sobbed  she.  "  Perhaps  God  will  have 
mercy  upon  us." 

She  ordered  her  private  carriage,  and  drove  to  St.  Stephens',  where 
prostrate  among  the  tombs  of  her  ancestors,  she  prayed  for  more  than 
an  hour.  "  _ 

From  this  day  Maria  Theresa  became  sad  and  silent,  watching  with 
anxious  eye  the  countenance  of  Isabella,  to  see  if  it  betokened  death. 
But  weeks  passed  by,  and  the  Infanta's  prophecy  began  to  be  regarded 
as  a  delusion  only  fit  to  provoke  a  smile.  The  Empress  alone  remained 
impressed  by  it.  She  still  gazed  with  sorrowing  love  at  the  pale  and 
laelancholy  face  of  her  daughter-in-law. 

"You  have  made  a  convert  of  my  mother,"  said  the  Archduchess 
Christina  one  day  to  Isabella,  "although,"  added  she,  laughing,  "you 
never  looked  better  in  your  life." 

"A«4  r^M,  Chrisiina,  you  do  not  bali«ve?'''  said  Isabella,  putting  her 


ISABELLA.  99 

arm  around  Christina's  neck.  "You,  my  friend,  nnd  the  confidant  of 
my  sorrows,  you  would  wish  to  prolong  the  burthen  of  this  life  of  secret 
wretchedness  and  dissimulation  ?" 

"I  believe  in  triio  goodness  of  God,  and  in  the  excellence  of  your  own 
heart,  dear  Isabella.  These  three  years  once  p.".ssed  away,  so  soon  as 
you  will  have  been  convinced  that  this  prophecy  was  indeed  nothing  but 
a  dream,  your  heart  will  re-open  to  life  and  love.  A  new  future  will 
loom  up  before  you,  and  at  last  you  will  reward  the  love  of  my  poor 
hi'other,  not  by  noble  sell-sacrifice,  but  by  veritable  affection." 

"Would  that  you  spoke  the  truth,"  returned  Isabella  sadly.  "Had 
my  heart  been  capable  of  loving,  I  would  have  loved  him  long  ago — 
him,  whose  noble  and  confiding  love  is  at  once  my  pride  and  my  grief. 
Believ6  me  when  I  tell  you  that  in  these  few  years  of  married  life,  I 
have  suffered  terribly.  I  have  striven  with  my  sorrows,  I  have  tried  to 
overcome  the  past,  I  have  desired  to  live  and  to  enjoy  life — but  in  vain. 
My  heart  was  dead,  and  could  not  awako  to  life — I  have  only  suffered 
and  waited  for  release." 

"  Gracious  heaven  !"  cried  Christina,  unmoved  by  the  confidence  with 
which  Isabella  spoke,  "  is  there  nothing  then  that  can  bind  you  to  life  ! 
If  you  are  cold  to  the  burning  love  of  your  husband,  are  you  indifferent 
to  your  child  ?" 

"  Do  you  think  that  I  will  leave  my  child  ?"  said  Isabella,  looking  sur- 
prised.    "  Oh  no !      She  will  come  to  me  before  she  is  seven  years  old."* 

"  Oh  Isabella,  Isabella,  I  cannot  believe  that  you  will  be  taken  from 
us,"  cried  Christina,  bursting  into  tears,  and  encircling  her  sister  with 
her  arms,  as  though  she  fancied  that  they  might  shield  her  from  the 
touch  of  death.     "Stay  with  us  darling,  we  love  you  so  dearly  !" 

Her  voice  choked  by  emotion,  she  laid  her  head  upon  Isabella's  shoul- 
der and  wept  piteously.  The  Infanta  kissed  her,  and  whispered  words 
of  tenderness,  and  Christina's  sobs  died  away.  Both  were  silent.  To- 
gether they  stood  with  sad  hearts  and  blanched  cheeks,  two  imperial 
princesses  in  the  prime  of  youth,  beauty  and  worldly  station,  yet  both 
bowed  down  by  grief! 

Their  lips  slightly  moved  in  prayer,  but  all  around  was  silent.  Sud- 
denly the  silence  was  broken  by  the  deep,  full  sound  of  a  large  clock 
which  stood  on  the  mantel-piece.  Isabella  raised  her  pale  face,  and  lis- 
tened with  a  shudder. 

For  many  months  this  clock  had  not  struck  the  hour.  The  clock-ma- 
ker who  had  been  sent  to  repair  it,  had  pronounced  the  machinery  to  be 
so  completely  destroyed  that  it  would  have  to  be  renewed.  Isabella 
could  not  summon  resolution  to  part  with  the  clock.  It  was  a  dear  me- 
mento of  home  and  of  her  mother.  She  had  therefore  preferred  to  keep 
it,  although  it  would  never  sound  again. 

And  now  it  struck !  Loud,  even  and  fnll-toned,  it  pealed  the  hour, 
and  its  clear,  metallic  voice  rang  sharply  through  the  room. 

♦The  Infanta's  own  words.  This  tntcrviow  of  Isabella  with  Christina  ii  historical,  and  thu  mopt 
•straorflinsi  jr  part  of  5t  i«,  that  the  r-rophaoy  of  htr  child's  dciiib  w(w  fulfllbd. 


100  JOSEPH  THE  SECOND. 

Isabella  raised  her  head  and,  pointing  to  the  clock,  she  said,  with  a 
shudder :  "  Christina,  ib  is  the  signal,  I  am  called."* 

She  drew  back  as  if  in  fear,  while  the  clock  went  on  with  its  relentless 
strokes.  "  Come,  come,  let  us  away,"  murmured  Christina,  with  pale 
and  trembling  lips. 

"  Yes,  come,"  sighed  Isabella. 

She  made  a  step,  but  her  trembling  feet  refused  to  support  her.  She 
grew  dizzy  and  sank  down  upon  her  knees. 

Christina  uttered  a  cry  and  would  have  flown  for  help,  but  Isabella 
held  her  back.  "  My  end  approaches,"  said  she.  "  My  senses  fail  me. 
Hear  my  last  words.  "When  I  am  dead,  you  will  find  a  letter  for  you. 
Swear  that  you  will  comply  with  its  demands." 

"  I  swear  !"  said  Christina,  solemnly. 

"  I  am  content.     Now  call  the  physician,"  , 

Day  after  day  of  anguish  went  by;  of  such  anguish  as  the  human  heart 
may  bear,  but  which  human  language  is  inadeq^uate  to  paint. 

The  insensible  Isabella  was  borne  to  her  chamber,  and  the  imperial 
physician  was  called  in.  The  Empress  followed  him  to  the  bedside, 
where  sat  Joseph  pale  and  motionless,  his  eyes  rivetted  upon  the  be- 
loved wife  who,  for  the  first  time  refused  to  smile  upon  him,  for  the  first 
time  was  deaf  to  his  words  of  love  and  sorrow. 

The  physician  bent  over  the  Princess  and  took  her  hand.  He  felt  her 
head,  then  her  heart,  while  the  Empress,  witH  folded  hands,  stood  pray- 
ing beside  him,  and  Joseph,  whose  eyes  were  now  turned  upon  Am, 
looked  into  his  face  as  if  his  whole  soul  lay  in  one  long  gaze  of  entreaty. 

Van  Swieten  spoke  not  a  wond,  but  continued  his  examination.  He 
bade  the  weeping  attendants  uncover  the  feet  of  the  Princess,  and  bent 
over  them  in  close  and  anxious  scrutiny.  As  he  raised  his  eyes,  the 
Archduke  saw  that  Van  Swieten  was  very  pale, 

"  O  doctor,"  cried  he,  in  tones  of  agony,  "  do  not  say  that  she  will  die. 
You  have  saved  so  many  lives !  Save  my  wife,  my  treasured  wife,  and 
take  all  that  I  possess  in  the  world  beside !" 

The  physician  replied  not,  but  went  again  to  the  head  of  the  bed,  and 
looked  intently  at  the  face  of  the  Princess.  It  had  now  turned  scarlet, 
and  here  and  there  was  flecked  with  spots  of  purple.  Van  Swieten 
snatched  from  Joseph  one  of  the  burning  hands  which  he  held  elapsed 
within  his  own. 

"  Let  me  hold  her  dear  hands,"  said  he,  kissing  them  again  and  again. 

The  doctor  held  up  the  little  hand  he  had  taken  which  erst  as  white 
as  falling  snow,  was  now  empurpled  with  disease.  He  turned  it  over, 
looked  into  the  palm,  opened  the  fingers,  and  examined  them  closely. 

"  Doctor,^  in  mercy  speak !"  said  the  agonized  husband.'  "  Do  you 
not  see  that  I  will  die  before  your  eyes,  unless  you  promise  that  she 
shall  live." 

The  Empress  prayed  no  longer.  When  she  saw  how  Van  Swieten 
yyas  examining  the  fingers  of  the  Archduchess,  she  uttered  a  stifled  cry, 
'  *H»8tori7a?,   Ti^ratftH:  p.  8ST. 


and  hidinp;  her  head  with  hor  hand.^  shii  wept  silently.  At  the  foot  of 
the  bed  knelt  the  attendants,  all  with  their  tearful  eyes  lifted  to  the  face 
of  him,  who  would  promise  life,  or  pronounce  death. 

Van  &wictcn  gently  laid  down  the  hand  of  his  patient,  and  opened  her 
dress  over  the  breast.  As  though  he  had  seen  enough,  ho  closed  it 
quickly  and  stood  erect. 

His  eyes  were  now  fixed  upon  Joseph  with  an  expression  of  deep  and 
painful  sympathy.  "iSpeak,"  said  Joseph,  with  trembling  lips,  "1  have 
courage  to  hear.*' 

"It  is  rny  duty  to  speak,"  replied  Van' Swieten,  "my  duty  to  exact 
of  her  Majesty  and  of  your  Highness  to  leave  the  room.  The  Arch- 
duchess has  the  small-pox." 

Maria  Theresa  sank  insensible  to  the  floor.  From  the  anto-room, 
where  the  Emperor  was  waiting,  he  heard  the  fall,  and  hastening  at  the 
sound,  he  bore  his  wife  away. 

Joseph,  meanwhile,  sat  as  though  he  had  been  struck  by  a  thunder- 
bolt. 

"  Archduke  Joseph,"  cried  Van  Swieten,  "by  the  duty  you  owe  to 
your  country  and  your  parents,  I  implore  you  to  leave  this  infected  spot." 

Joseph  raised  his  head,  and  a  smile  illumined  his  pale  face.  "Oh," 
cried  he,  "  I  am  a  happy  man  !  I  have  had  the  small-pox  !  I  at  least 
can  remain  with  her  until  she  recovers  or  dies." 

"  Yes,  but  you  will  convey  the  infection  to  your  relatives," 

"I  will  not  leave  the  room,  Doctor,"  said  Joseph  resolutely.  "No 
inmate  of  the  palace  shall  receive  the  infection  through  me.  I  myself 
will  be  my  Isabella's  nurse  until " 

He  could  speak  no  more ;  he  covered  his  face  with  his  hands,  and  his 
tears  fell  in  showers  over  the  pillow  of  his  unconscious  wife. 

Van  Swieten  opposed  him  no  longer.  He  was  suffered  to  remain, 
nursing  the  Archduchess  with  a  love  that  defied  all  fatigue. 

Of  all  this,  Isabella  was  ignorant.  Her  large  staring  eyes  were  fixed 
upon  her  tender  guardian,  but  she  knew  him  not ;  she  spoke  to  him  in 
words  of  burning  tenderness,  such  as  never  before  had  fallen  from  her 
lips;  but  while  she  poured  out  her  love,  she  called  him  by  another 
name — she  called  him  Riccardo ;  and  while  she  told  him  that  he  was 
dearer  to  her  than  all  the  world  beside,  she  warned  him  to  beware  of 
her  fiitheri  Sometimes,  in  her  delirium,  she  saw  a  bloody  corpse  beside 
her,  and  she  prayed  to  die  by  its  side.  Then  she  seemed  to  listen  to 
another  voice,  and  her  little  hands  were  clasped  in  agony,  while,  exhaus- 
ted with  the  horror  of  the  vision,  she  murmured,  "Three  years!  three 
years !     Oh,  God,  what  martyrdom  !     In  three  years  we  meet  again  !" 

Her  husband  heeded  not  her  wild  language,  he  listened  to  the  music 
of  her  voice.  This  voice  was  all  that  was  left  to  remind  him  of  his  onco 
beautiful  Isabella;  it  was  still  as  sweet  as  in  the  days  when  her  beauty 
had  almost  maddened  him-:— that  beauty  which  had  flown  forever,  and 
left  its  possessor  a  hideous  mass  of  blood  and  corruption. 

On  the  sixth  day  of  her  illness,  Isabella  recovered  from  her  deljriqm, 


i02  JOSKFH  THE  SECONB. 

Sho  opened  her  eyes  and  fixed  them  upon  her  husband  with  a  look  of 
calm  intelligence. 

"  Farewell,  Joseph  !"  said  she  softly.  "  Farewell !  It  is  over  now, 
and  I  die." 

"  No,  no,  darling,  you  will  not  die,"  cried  he,  bursting  into  tears. 
"  You  would  not  leave  me,  beloved,  you  will  live  to  bless  me  again." 

"  Do  not  sorrow  for  tne,"  said  she.  "Forgive  and  forget  me."  As 
Joseph,  overcome  by  his  emotion,  made  no  reply,  she  repeated  her  words 
■with  more  emphasis,  "  Forgive  me,  Joseph,  say  that  you  forgive  me, 
for  otherwise  1  shall  not  die  in  peace," 

"  Forgive  thee  !"  cried  he.  I  forgive  thee,  who  for  three  years,  hast 
made  my  life  one  long  sunny  day  !" 

"  Thou  wert  happy  then,"  asked  she,  "  happy  through  me  V 
■' "  I  was,  I  am  happy,  if  thou  wilt  not  leave  me." 

"  Then,"  sighed  the  wife,  "  I  die  in  peace.  He  was  happy,  I  have  done 
my  duty,  I  have  atoned " 

Her  head  fell  back.  A  long  fearful  silence  ensued.  Suddenly  a  shriek 
— the  shriek  of  a  man  was  heard.  When  the  attendants  rushed  in,  Isa- 
bella was  dead,  and  Joseph  had  fallen  insensible  upon  the  body.* 


CHAPTER  XXII.  ■ 

CHE  FARO  8ENZA  EUBTDICB, 

The  funeral  rites  were  ended,  and  Isabella  of  Parma  slept  in  St.  Ste- 
pherls  in  the  tomb  of  the  Kaisers. 

Joseph  had  refused  to  attend  the  funeral.  From  the  hour  when  his 
consciousness  had  returned  to  him,  he  had  locked  himself  within  his 
apartments,  and  night  or  day  he  was  heard  pacing  the  floor  with  dull  and 
measured  tread.  Not  even  the  Empress,  who  had  stood  imploring  at 
the  door,  could  obtain  a  word  in  answer  to  her  entreaties;  For  two 
days  and  nights  he  remained  within.  On  the  third  day,  the  Emperor 
knocked  at  the  door,  and  announced  to  his  son  that  all  was  now  ready 
for  the  funeral,  and  his  presence  was  indispensable. 

Joseph'  opened  the  door,  and,  without  a  word,  leaned  upon  his  father's 
arm,  and  traversed  the  long  suite  of  apartments  hung  in  black,  until  they 

*  This  extraordinary  account  of  the  life  and  death  of  the  Infanta,  Isabella  of  Parma,  Is  no  ro- 
niance;  it  rests  upon  facts  which  are  mentioned  by  historians  of  the  reign  of  Maria  Theresa.  Car- 
oline Pichler,  whoso  mother  was  tire-woman  to  the  Empress  when  the  Archduchess  died,  relates  tha 
history  of  the  prophecy,  wherein  Isabella,  first  in  three  hours,  then  in  as  many  days — weeks,  months, 
and  years — awaited  her  d«ath.  ;^he  also  relates  the  fact  of  her  death  at  tlie  expiratioji  of  three 
jmn  "  in  the  arms  ef  her  dcipalrluj  husband."    (Caroline  Pichler :  Memoini  of  My  Lifji.) 


reached  the  room  where  lay  the  body  of  his  wife.  There  emid  burning 
wax-lighls  was'lhe  hideous  coffin  that  now  enclosed  his  beloi^ed  one, 
that  now  was  about  to  bear  away  forever  his  life,  his  lovo,  and  his  hap- 
piness. When  he  saw  the  coffin,  a  stifled  cry  arose  from  his  breast. 
Jle  darted  with  open  arms  towards  it,  and,  bending  down,  he  hid  bis 
face  upon  the  lid. 

At  this  moment,  the  doors  of  the  room  were  opened  and  the  Empress, 
attended  by  her  daughters,  all  in  deep  mourning,  entered.  Their  faces 
were  wan  v^ith  weeping,  as  were  those  of  all  who  followed  the  bereaved 
Sovereign.  Meanwhile  Joseph  neiUier  saw  nor  heard  what  passed  around 
him.  The  ceremonies  began,  but  while  the  priest  performed  the  funeral 
rites,  the  Archduke  murmured  words  which  brought  tears  to  the  eyes  ot' 
his  ftither  and  mother. 

Maria  Theresa  approached  her  stricken  son.  She  kissed  his  hair,  and 
laid  her  hand  lovingly  upon  his  shoulder. 

"  My  son,"  said  she  with  quivering  lip,  "arise  and  bo  a  man.  Her 
soul  is  with  God  and  with  us ;  let  us  give  her  body  to  the  earth  that 
bore  it." 

While  the  Empress  spoke,  the  bells  of  the  churches  began  to  toll,  and 
from  the  streets  were  heard  the  beating  of  muffled  drums,  and  the  boom- 
ing of  the  cannon  that  announced  to  Vienna  the  moving  of  the  funeral 
procession. 

*'  Come,  my  son,  come,"  repeated  the  Empress.  "  Our  time  of  trial 
is  at  hand." 

Joseph  raised  his  head  from  the  coffin,  and  stared  wildly  around.  lie 
saw  the  priests,  the  Levitcs  with  their  smoking  censers,  the  weeping  at- 
tendants of  his  wife  ;  he  saw  the  black  hangings,  the  groups  of  mourners, 
and  his  father  and  mother  standing  pale  and  sad  beside  him.  He  hciird 
the  tolling  of  the  bells  and  the  dull  sound  of  the  funeral  drum  ;  and  now, 
now  indeed  he  felt  the  aw'^ul  reality  of  his  bereavement,  and  knew  that 
as  yet  he  had  suffered  nothing.  Tears  filled  his  eyes,  and  he  sank  upon 
his  father's  breast. 

Sobs  and  wailings  filled  the  funeral  hall,  while  without,  the  inexorable 
knell  went  on,  the  drums  still  beat,  the  cannon  roared,  all  calling  for  the 
coffin,  for  whose  entrance  the  imperial  vault  lay  open. 

Once  more  Joseph  approached  this  dreadful  coffin.  He  kissed  it,  and 
taking  from  it  one  of  the  roses  with  which  it  had  been  decked,  he  said, 
"  Farewell,  my  wife,  my  treasure;  farewell,  my  adored  Isabella!"  Then 
turning  towards  the  Empress,  he  added,  "  Thank  you,  dearest  mother,  for 
the  courage  which  bears  you  through  this  bitter  trial ;  for  me  I  cannot 
follow  you.  Greet  my  ancestors  and  say  to  them  that  never  came  a  no- 
bler victim  to  the  grave  than  the  one  which  you  bear  thither  to-day." 

"  You  will  not  go  with  us  !"  said  the  Empress,  astounded. 

"  No,  mother,  no.  Mingle  dust  with  dust,  but  do  not  ask  me  to  look 
into  my  Isabella's  grave,"  j 

He  turned,  and  without  a  word  or  another  look  at  the  coffin,  he  left 
the  room. 


i04  JOSEPii  Tiia  ijKCuXD. 

"  Let  him  go,"  whispered  tho  Emperor.  "  I  believe  that  it  would  kill 
him  to  witness  the  funeral  ceremony."  ^ 

The  Empress  gave  a  sign,  and  the  cortege  moved  with  the  coffin  to 
thecataphalt,  which,  drawn  by  twelve  black  horses,  awaited  the  body  in 
front  of  the  palace. 

Joseph  once  more  retreated  to  his  room,  and  there,  through  the  still- 
ness of  the  deserted  palace,' might;  be  heard  his  ceaseless  tramp,  that 
sounded  as  though  it  might  bo  the  hammer  that  was  fashioning  another 
coffin  to  break  the  heart3  of  the  imperial  family.  At  least  it  seemed  so 
to  the  sorrowing  Empress,  who  listefied  to  the  dull  sound  of  her  son's 
footsteps  with  superstitious  fear.  She  had  gone  to  him,  on  her  return 
from  the  funeral,  to  console  him  with  her  love  and  sympathy.  But  the 
door  was  locked,  and  her  affectionate  entreaties  for  admission  were  un- 
answered. 

She  turned  to  the  Emperor.  "Something  must  be  done  to  bend  the 
obstinacy  of  this  solitary  grief,"  said  she  anxiously.  "  I  know  Joseph. 
His  is  u  passionate  and  obdurate  nature,  strong  in  love  as  in  hate.  Ho 
had  yielded  his  whole  soul  to  his  wife,  and  now,  alas !  I  fear  that  she 
will  draw  him  with  her  to  the  grave.  What  shall  we  do,  Franz,  to  com- 
fort him"?  How  shall  we  entice  him  from  this  odious  room,  which  he 
paces  like  a  lion  in  his  cage?" 

"  Go  once  more,  and  command  him  to  open  the  door.  He  will  not 
have  the  courage  to  defy  you,"  said  the  Emperor. 

Maria  Theresa  knocked  again  and  cried  out,  "  My  son  Joseph,  I  com* 
mand  you,  as  your  Sovereign  and  mother,  to  open  the  door." 

No  answer.     Still  the  same  dull,  everlasting  tread. 

The  Empress  stood  awhile  to  listen  ;  then,  flushing  with  anger,  she 
exclaimed,  "  It  is  in  vain.  We  have  lost  all  control  over  him.  His  sor- 
row has  made  him  cruel  and  rebellious,  even  towards  his  mother." 

"  But  this  is  unmanly,"  cried  the  Emperor  with  displeasure.  "It  is  a 
miserable  weakness  to  sink  so  helpless  under  grief." 

"Think  you  so?"  said  the  Empress,  ready  to  vent  upon  the  Emperor 
her  vexation  at  the  conduct  of  her  son. 

"  In  your  pride  of  manhood  you  deem  it  w^eak  that  Joseph  grieves  for 
his  wife?  1  dare  say  that  were  your  Majesty  placed  in  similar  circum- 
stances you  would  know  full  well  how  to  bear  my  loss  like  a  man.  But 
your  Majesty  must  remember  that  Joseph  has  not  your  wisdom  and  ex- 
perience. He  is  but  a  poor,  artless  youth,  who  has  been  weak  enough 
to  love  his  wife  without  stint.  This  is  a  fault  for  which  I^crave  the  Em- 
peror's indulgence." 

"  Oh,  your  Majesty,"  replied  the  Emperor  smiling,  "  God  forbid  that 
he  should  ever  grow  less  affectionate.  I  was  only  vexed  that  the  voice 
of  Maria  Theresa  should  have  less  power  over  my  son  than  it  has  over 
his  father ;  that  silvery  voice  which  bewitched  me  in  youth,  and  through 
life  has  soothed  ray  every  pang." 

The  Em^'ess  completely  softened,  reached  out  her  hand. 

"Would  you  indeed  mourn  for  rae,  Franz?"  said   she  tenderly. 


ii^ABELLA.  105 

"  Would  you  refuse  to  listen  to  father  or  mother  for  my  sake?  Yep, 
dearest,  you  would,  I  believe.  From  our  childhood  we  were  lovers,  we 
will  be  lovers  in  our  old  age,  and  when  we  part  the  one  that  is.  left  will 
mourn  as  deeply  as  Joseph,  Let  us  then  be  lenient  wnlh  his  grief,  until 
our  love  and  forbearance  shall  have  won  him  to  come  anfi  weep  upon  his 
mother's  breast." 

"If  your  Majesty  permit,"  said  Christina,  stepping  forward,  "I  will 
try  to  soften  his  grief." 

"  What  can  you  do,  dear  child  1"  asked  the^mpress  of  her  favorite 
daughter, 

"  1  have  a  messag^for  him,"  replied  Christina.  "  I  swore  to  Isabella 
that  no  one  but  myself  should  reveal  it  to  Joseph.  I  know  that  it  will 
prove  consolatory,  and  Isabella  also  knew  it.  For  this  reason  she  en- 
trusted it  to  me," 

"  Try  then,  my  daughter,  try  if  your  voice  will  have  more  power  than 
mine.  Meanwhile  I  will  essay  the  power  of  music.  It  overcame  him 
once  when  he  was  a  boy.  Wo  will  try  him  with  the  music  that  Isabella 
loved  best. 

She  called  a  page  and  spoke  with  him  in  a  low  voice.  In  conclusion 
she  said,  "  Let  the  carriage  go  at  once  and  bring  him  hither  in  a  quar- 
ter of  an  hour."  , 

The  page  withdrew,  and  the  imperial  family  were  again  alone. 

"  Now,  my  daughter,"  said  the  Empress,  "  see  ifhe  will  speak  to  you." 

Christina  approached  the  door.  "  My  brother  Joseph,"  said  she,  "  I 
beseech  you  open  the  door  to  me.  I  come  from  Isabella ;  it  is  she  who 
sends  me  to  you." 

The  bolt  was  withdrawn,  and  for  a  moment  the  pale  face  of  Joseph 
appeared  at  the  door. 

"  Come  in,"  said  he,  waving  his  hand  to  Christina.  She  followed  him 
into  the  room  where  so  many,  many  tears  had  been  shed.  "  Now  speak," 
said  he,  "  what  did  Isabella  say  to  you '?" 

His  sister  looked  with  pity  upon  his  ghastly  face  and  those  hollow 
eyes  grown  glassy  with  weeping-.  "  Poor,  poor  Joseph!"  said  she  softly, 
"1  see  that  your  love  for  her  was  beyond  all  b|.ounds." 

He  made  a  motion  of  impatience.  "  Do  not  pity  me,"  said  he.  "My 
grief  is  too  sacred  for  sympathy.  I  do  not  need  it.  Tell  me  at  once, 
what  said  Isabella  ?" 

Christina  h^itated.  She  felt  as  if  the  balm  she  was  about  to  bring 
would  prove  more  painful  than  the  wounds  it  was  intended  to  heal. 

"  Speak,  I  tell  you,"  cried  Joseph  angrily.  "  If  you  have  made  use  of 
Isabella's  name  to  gain  access  to  my  presence,  it  is  a  trick  for  which  I 
will  never  forgive  you.  Why  did  you  disturb  me?  I  was  with  her," 
continued  he,staring  at  the  divan  where  so  often  they  had  sat  together. 
"She  wore  her  white  dress  and  the  pink  roses,  and  she  smiled  with  ii^r 
enchanting  smile.  I  lay  at  her  feet,  1  looked  into  her  eyes,  I  heard  the 
melody  of  her  voice." 

"  Did  she  ever  say  that  she  loved  you  ?"  asked  Christina. 


106  Ja^KfM  THj;  tSELU>b. 

He  looked  at  her  intently  and  grew  thonghtful.  "  I  do  not  know," 
said  he  after  a  pause,  "  whether  she  ever  told  mq  so  in  words.  But 
there  needed  no  words.  I  saw  her  love  in  every  glance,  in  every  smile. 
Her  whole  life  was  love,  and  oh  !  I  have  lost  it  forever !" 

"  You  have  not  lost  it,  for  you  never  possessed  it,"  said  Christina. 

Joseph  drew  back  and  frowned.     '•  What  is  that?"  said  he  hastily. 

Christina  approached  hira,  and  laying  her  hand  upon  his^ shoulder,  she 
looked  into  his  face  until  her  eyes  tilled  with  tears. 

"  I  say,"  whispered  shein  a  tremulous- voice,  "  do  not  mourn  any  lon- 
ger, dear  brother.  For  she  for  whom  you  grieve,  she  whom  you  call 
your  Isabella,  never  loved  you.  ' 

'"That  is  not  true,"  cried  Joseph  vehemently.  "It  is  a  lie,  a  wicked 
lie  that  you  have  devised  to  lessen  my  grief." 

"  It  is  nothing  but  the  truth,  and  I  promised  Isabella  to  tell  it  to  you." 

Joseph  sank  almost  insensible  upon  the  divan.  Christina  seated  her- 
self near  him,  and,  throwing  her  arms  around  him,  she  sobbed,  "My 
brother,  my  darling  brother,  think  no  more  of  the  dead,  but  turn  your 
heart  towards  us;  for  we  love  you,  and  Isabella  never  did.  She  merely 
suffered  your  love." 

"Suffered  my  love,"  murmured  Joseph,  and  his  head  sank  powel'Iess 
upon  Christina's  bosom.  But  suddenly  he  rose,  and  looking  with  a  be- 
seeching expression  at  his  sister's  beautiful  face,  he  said  : 

"Bethink  you,  Christina,  of  what  you  do.  Think  that  I  love  Isabella 
with  all  the  strength  and  glow  of  my  heart,  think  that  for  me  she  was 
the  embodiment  of  all  beauty,  goodness  and  purity.  Do  not  seek  to 
comfort  me  by  destroying  my  faith  in  the  truth  of  the  only  woman  I 
have  ever  loved.  In  whom  shall  I  have  faith,  if  not  in  her?  U  her  love 
was  a  lie,  is  there  love  in  this  world  !  Oh,  Christina,  in  mercy  say  that 
you  have  sought  to  comfort  by  deceiving  me !" 

"  I  have  sought  to  comfort  you,  by  telling  you  the  truth.  If  you  will 
not  believe  me,  believe  her  own  words." 

She  drew  a  paper  from  her  dress  and  handed  it  to  Joseph.  "  It  is  a 
letter,"  said  she,  "  which  Isabella  gave  to  me,  and  she  made  me  swear 
that  1  would  fulfill  its  behests.     Read  and  be  satisfied." 

Joseph  unfolded  the  letter.  "It  is  her  handwriting,"  said  he  to  him- 
self, and  he  tried  to  read  it,  but  in  vain;  his  hand  trembled,  and  his 
eyes  fdled  with  tears." 

He  gave  it  back  to  Christina,  who  read  it  aloud — 

"  My  Christina — Confidant  of  my  sufferings  and  sorrow — Hear  my 
dying  request.  To  you  I  leave  the  task  of  consoling  my  husband.  His 
noble  tears  shall  not  be  shed  over  the  grave  of  one  who  is  unv/orthy  of 
them.  Tell  him  the  truth,  tell  him  all  you  know,  show  him  this  letter, 
and  bid  him  not' grieve  for  one  who  never  loved  him.  Do  this  for  me, 
St  "is  my  last  request.  Isabella." 

/Suddenly,  from  the  adjoining  room,  the  sweet  tones  of"  music  were 


heard;  the  air  was  tremulous  with  melody,  whit;h  at  first  soft  and  low, 
swelled  louder  and  louder  until  it  filled  the  room  with  a  gush  of  harmo- 
ny  that  stirred  the  hearts  of  those  who  listened,  with  sweetest  and  holiest 
emotions. 

Joseph  bent  eagerly  A^rward.  He  knew  tho^^e  strains  so  well  !  He 
renncmbered  the  nijiht  when  Isabella's  tears  had  faltcn  among  the  rose- 
loaves,  and  he  had  kissed  them  away.  He  saw  her  once  more  in  the 
pride  of  her  beauty,  looking  at  him  from  the  depths  of  those  glorious 
dark  eyes  which  he  had  so  madly  loved.  The  music  gave  life  and  being 
to  these  memories,  and  its  glamour  brought  back  the  dead  fnun  her 
grave!  He  remembered  how  he  had  asked  her  if  she  loved  him.  and 
how,  avoiding  the  words  so  diflicult  to  speak,  she  had  answered  wilh  the 
witphing  tones  of  her  violin.  Oh,  that  heavenly  evening  hour  upon  the 
bthoony  !  She  had  said,  "Love  has  its  own  langua.  e  :  come  and  lis- 
ten." And  Christina  said  she  had  not  loved/  He  could  not,  would  not 
believe  her ! 

He  took  the  letter  from  Christina's  hand  and  kissed  the  paper.  "  I 
do  not  believe  you,"  he  sard  softly.  My  trust  in  her  is  like  my  sorrow 
— for  eternity !" 

This  imperturbable  faith  had  the  efiect  of  hardening  Christina,  and 
making  her  cruel.  "  You  shall  believe  me,"  said  she  hastily.  "You 
shall  see  in  her  own  handwriting  that  she  loved  another." 

"  Another  !"  cried  the  wretched  husband.     "  I  will  kill  him  !" 
"  He  died  before  you  ever  knew  her,"  said  Christina,  frightened  at  the 
effect  of  her  own  heartlessness. 

A  smile  overspread  his  face.  "  Dead,  before  I  knew  her !  Then  she 
forgot  him  when  I  loved  her."  He  took  up  the  letter  and  read  it  again. 
*'  Oh,"  said  he,  "  see  how  magnanimous  was  ray  Isabella.  She  has  been 
false  to  her  own  heart  that  she  might  save  me  from  sorrow.  She 
thought  it  would  dry  my  tears  to  think  that  she  did  not  love  me.  Oh, 
beloved,  I  see  through  thy  noble  falsehood — in  death  as  in  life  I  know 
every  working  of  that  unselfish  heart !" 

Christina  said  nothing,  but  she  grew  more  inflexible  in  her  purpose. 
"He  shall  be  convinced,"  said  ^he  to  herself  "  I  will  give  him  her  let- 
ters to  mo,  and  then  he  will  know  that  he  never  has  been  loved." 

Again  pealed  forth  the  sounds  of  that  heavenly  music.  Now  the  vio- 
lin, mingling  with  the  tones  of  the  harpsichord,  glided  into  a  melody  of 
divinest  beauty  ;  and  the  full,  rich  tones  of  a  woman's  voice  warbled 
the  complaint  of  Orpheus  :   Che  faro  senza  Eurydice! 

Joseph  sighed  convulsively,  and  a  faint  color  tinged  his  pale  cheeks. 
This  was  Isabella's  favorite  air ;  and  once  more  the  vision  started  up 
before  him,  once  more  he  saw  the  tears,  he  kissed  them,  and  looked  into 
the  depths  of  those  starry  eyes  ! 

He  rose  from  the  divan,  and,  drawn  thither  by  a  power  with  which  he 
could  not  contend,  he  left  the  room,  and  followed  the  music  that  was 
calling  him  from  madness  back  to  reason. 

At  the  harpsichord  sat  Ritter  Gluck,  and  by  him  .stood  the  Archduch,- 


108  JO?El'fl  THE  SECOND. 

ess  Elizabeth,  whose  rich  and  beautiful  voice  had  exorcised  the  evil  spirit. 

The  Emperor  and  Enipres?,  with  all  their  children,  came  forward  to 
meet  the  unhappy  one,  and  all  with  tearful  eyes,  kissed  and  welcomed 
him  with  tender  words  of  love. 

Gluck  alone  seemed  not  to  have  seen  the  Archduke.  He  was  chiding 
Elizabeth  for  singing  falsely,  and  called  upon  her  to  repeat  her  song. 
Nevertheless,  while  he  corrected  his  pupil,  the  big  tears  were  coursing 
one  another  dowij.  his  cheelis,  and  fell  upon  his  hands,,  as  they  wandered 
oyer  the  instrument  enrapturing  every  ear. 

Elizabeth  began  again  ;  and  again  were  heard  the  heart-breaking  tones 
of  Che  faro  senza  Eurydice. 

All  eyes  turned  upon  the  bereaved  Orpheus.  The  Empress  opened 
her  arms,  and  completely  subdued,  he  darted  to  his  mother's  heart,  ai}d 
cried  out,  "  Che  faro  senza  Eurydice.''''-  j\"^, 

Again  and  again  the  mother  kissed  her  weeping  son.  The  Emperor . 
folded  them  both  to  his  loving  heart.  The  brothers  and  sisters  wept 
for  mingled  grief  and  joy.  Elizabeth's  voice  failed  her,  and  she  sang  no 
more.  But  Gluck  played  on,  his  hands  weaving  new  strains  of  harmo- 
ny such  as  earth  had  never  heard  before.  His  head  thrown  back,  his 
eyes  upturned  towards  Heaven,  his  face  beaming  with  inspiration,  he 
listened  to  his  music,  while  from  Joseph's  anguish,  he  created  the  won- 
derful song  in  Alceste  "  No  crudel,  no  j)osso  vivere,  iu  lo  sai,  senza  de  ie." 

The  melody  went  on,  the  parents  caressed  their  child,  and  on  his 
mother's  bosom  Joseph  wept  the  last  tears  of  his  great  youthful  sorrow. 
The  dream  of  love  was  over !     Grief  had  made  of  him  a  man. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

FATHER  PORHAMMER  AND  COUNT  KAUNITZ. 

The  Empress  paced  her  cabinet  with  hasty  steps.  Near  the  large  ta- 
ble, covered  with  papers  of  state,  stood  Father  Porhammer. 

"Are  you  sure  of  what  you  say?"  said  Maria  Theresa  with  impa- 
tience. "  Are  you  sure  that  the  Lord  Chancellor  so  far  forgets  his  hon- 
or and  his  dignity  as  to  spend  his  hours  of  leisure  in  the  compapy  of 
disreputable  actresses  ?  Is  it  true  that  his  house  is  the  scene  of  shame- 
ful orgies  and  saturnalian  feasts  ?" 

"  It  is  even  so,  your  Majesty,"  replied  Porhammer.  "  It  is  unhappily 
true  that  he  whom  your  Majesty  has  raised  to  the  first  place  in  the  Em- 
pire of " 

"  The  first  place !"  echoed  the  Empress  angrily.    "  Know,  sir,  that 


KING  OF  ROME.  109 

the  first  place  in  the  Empire  is  mine.  From  God  I  hold  my  power  and 
my  crown,  and  I  depute  them  to  no  man — I  alone  reign  in  Austria." 

"Your  Majesty,"  resumed  the  Father,  "  did  uot  allow  me  to  finish. 
I  was  about  to  say  that  he  whom  yo'ur  Majesty  has  made  your  most  il- 
lustrious subject,  he  who  ought  to  give  to  all  your  subjects  an  example 
of  moral  conduct,  is  a  profligate  and  libertine.  That  infamous  school  of 
Paris,  where  reigns  the  wanton  Marquise  de  Pompadour  ;  the  debauch- 
ed Court  of  Versailles " 

"Plold,  flither,  and  remember  that  France  is  Austria's  dearest  ally," 
interrupted  the  Empress. 

The  father  bowed.  "The  school  of  Parisian  gallantry,  of  which  the 
Lord  Chancellor  is  a  graduate,  has  borne  its  fruits.  Count  Kaunitz 
mocks  at  religion,  chastity  and  every  other  virtue.  Instead  of  giving  an 
honorable  mistress  to  his  house,  it  is  the  home  of  Foliazzi,  the  singer, 
who  holds  him  fast  with  her  rosy  chains." 

"  We  must  send  her  away  from  Vienna." 

"Ah,  your  Majesty,  if  you  send  her,  Count  Kaunitz  will  go  with  her. 
He  cannot  live  without  La  Foliazzi.  Even  when  he  comes  hither  to 
your  Majesty's  august  presence,  La  Foliazzi  is  in  his  coach,  and  she 
awaits  his  return  at  the  doors  of  the  Imperial  palace." 

"Impossible!  I  will  not  believe  such  scandalous  reports.  Count 
Kaunitz  would  never  dare  to  bring  his  mistresses  to  my  palace  doors; 
he  would  never  have  the  audacity  to  treat  his  ofllcial  visits  to  myself  as 
episodes  in  a  life  of  lasciviousness  with  an  unchaste  singer.  You  shall 
withdraw  your  words.  Father  Porhammer,  or  you  shall  prove  them." 

— "I  will  prove  them,  your  Majesty." 

Just  then,  the  door  opened  and  a  page  announced  the  Lord  Chancellor, 
Count  Kaunitz. 

"Admit  Count  Kaunitz,"  said  the  Empress,  "  and  you  Father  Por- 
hammer, remain." 

The  father  withdrew  within  the  embrasure  of  a  window,  while  the 
Lord  Chancellor  followed  the  page  into  the  presence  of  the  Empress. 
The  Count's  face  was  as  fair,  and  his  cheeks  as  rosy  as  ever ;  he  wore 
the  same  fantastic  perruque  of  his  own  invention,  and -his  figure  was  as 
straight  and  slender  as  it  had  ever  been.  Ten  years  had  gone  by  since 
he  became  Prime  Minister,  but  nothing  had  altered  him.  So  marble-like 
his  face,  that  age  could  not  wrinkle,  nor  care  trace  a  line  upon  its  stony 
surface. 

He  did  not  w'ait  for  the  ittiperial  greeting,  but  came  forward  in  his 
careless,  unceremonious  W'ay,  not  as  though  he  stood  before  his  sove- 
reign, but  as  if  he  had  come  to  visit  a  lady  of  his  own  rank. 

"  Your  Majesty  sees,"  .said  he,  with  a  courteous  inclination  of  the 
head,  "that  I  use  the  permission  which  has  been  granted  me,  of  seeking 
an  audience  whenever  the  state  demands  it.  As  I  come,  not  to  intrude 
upon  your  Majesty  with  idle  conversation,  but  to  speak  of  grave  and 
important  matters  of  state,  I  do  not  apologise  for  coining  unbidden." 

The  easy  and  unembarasscd  nianucr  iu  which  Kaunitz  announced  him- 


110  JOSEPH  THE  3EC0:i:fD. 

self  had  its  effect  upon  the  Empress.  She  who  was  so  accustomed  to. 
give  vent  to  the  feelings  of  the  moment,  overcame  her  displeasure  and. 
received  her  Minister  with  her  usual  affability. 

"Your  Majesty  then  will  graiit  an  audience  to  your  Minister  of 
State,"  said  Kaunitz,  looking  sharply  at  the  priest  who  stood  unconcern- 
ed at  the  window. 

"Since  the  Lord  Chancellor  comes  at  such  an  unusual  houV,"  replied 
the  Empress,  "I  must  conclude  that  his  business  is  of  an  imperative  na- 
ture.  "1  am  therefore  ready  to  hear  him." 

Kaunitz  bowed,  and  then  turning  with  an  arrogant  gesture  towards  the 
Empress's  confessor,  he  said,  "  Do  you  hear,  Father  Porhammer,  the 
Empress  will  hold  a  council  with  me." 

"  I  hear  it,  my  Lord,"  said  the  priest. 

"  Then  as  we  are  not  on  the  subject  of  religion,  you  will  have  the 
goodness  to  leave  the  room." 

"  I  was  ordered  by  her  Majesty  to  remain,"  replied  Father  Porham- 
mer quietly. 

Kaunitz  turned  towards  the  Empress,  who  with  knit  and  angry  brow, 
was  listening  to  her  Minister. 

"  If  it  be  the  Empress's  pleasure,"  said  he,  bowing,  "  I  will  take  the 
liberty  of  retiring  until  her  Majesty  is  at  leisure  for  earthly  aflairs.  Re- 
ligion and  Politics  are  not  to  be  confounded  together;  the  former  being 
the  v/eightier  subject  of  the  two,  I  give  way." 

He  bowed  again,  and  was  about  to  leave  the  room,  when  the  Empress 
recalled  him. 

"Stay,"  said  she,  "and  Father  Porhammer  wilMeave  us  for  a  while." 

Without  a  word  the  Father  bowed  and  withdrew. 

" Now  speak,  Count  Kaunitz,"  said  the  Empress,  hastily,  "and  let 
the  affair  be  important  that  has  led  you  to  drive  my  confessor  from  my 
presence  in  such  an  uncourteous  fashion." 

"  Weighty,  most  weighty  is  the  news  that  concerns  the  imperial  house 
of  Austria,"  said  Kaunitz,  with  his  unruffled  equanimity.  "A  courier 
has  brought  me  tidings  of  the  Archduke's  election  as  King  of  Rome." 

"  Is  that  all  ?"  said  Maria  Theresa.  "  That  is  no  news.  The, voice  of 
Prussia  decided  that  matter  long  ago ;  and  this  is  the  only  advantage 
we  have  ever  reaped  from  our  long  and  terrible  war  with  Frederick." 

"  No,  your  Majesty,  no,  this  is  not  the  only  thing  we  have  obtained. 
This  war  has  yielded  us  material  advantages.  It  has  increased  the  mi- 
litary strength  of  the  country,  it  has  placed  before  the  eyes  of  all  Eu- 
rope the  inexhaustible  nature  of  Austria's  resources,  it  has  brought  all 
the  little  Germanic  principalities  under  Austria's  dominion.  It  has  uni- 
ted Hungary,  Sclavonia,  Italy,  Bohemia,  and  Lombardy  under  Austria's 
flag  and  Austria's  field-marshals.  Indeed,  your  Majesty,  this  war  has 
given  us  something  of  far  more  value  than  Prussia's  vote.  The  bloody 
baptism  of  the  battle-field  has  made  Austrians  of  all  those  who  bled  for 
Austria's  rights." 

"That  does  not  prevent  that  abominable  man  from  clinging  to  my 


11 

KING  OF  ROME.  1 1 1 

fair  domains  of  Silesia.  How  will  my  ancestor,  the  great  Charles,  gi'eet 
me,  when  I  go  to  my  grave,  bearing  the  tidings  that  under  my  reign 
Austria  has  been  shorn  of  a  principality." 

"  No  such  tidings  shall  your  Majesty  bear  to  your  forefathers,"  re- 
plied Kaunitz,  fervently,  "  Leave  Frederic  alone  with  his  bit  of  a  prin- 
cipality': more  trouble  than  profit  may  it  be  to  him  !  Long  before  he 
■will  have  transformed  his  Silesian  Austrians  into  loyal  Prussi.ans,  wo 
shall  have  repaired  the  damage  he  has  done  us  by  new  and  richer  acqui- 
sitions." 

"No,  no,  no,"  cried  the  Empress,  "let  us  have  n6  more  war.  What 
we  do  not  possess  by  just  right,  I  shall  never  consent  to  win  with  the 
sword." 

"  But  inheritance  and  alliance  be^^tow  rights,"  persisted  the  Minister. 
"Your  Majesty  has  mart-iageable  daughters  and  sons,  and  it  is  time  to 
think  of  negotiating  honorable  alliances  for  them." 

The  eyes  of  the  Empress  sparkled,  and  her  foce  beamed  with  happy 
smiles.  The  establishment  of  her  children  was  her  constant  thought  by 
night  and  day,  and  in  broaching  this  subject,  Kaunitz  was  meeting  her 
dearest  wishes.  Her  displeasure  against  him  melted  away  like  snow 
before  the  sun,  and  she  gave  herself  entirely  up  to  the  pleasing  discussion. 

"  It  will  be  difficult  to  find  husbands  for  my  daughters,"  said  she. 
"  All  the  reigning  heads  of  European  families  are  married,  and  their  sons 
are  too  young  for  Elizabeth  and  Amelia.  I  cannot  marry  my  grown-up 
daughters  to  boys ;  nor  can  I  bring  a  set  of  insignificant  sons  in-law  to 
hang  about  the  court.  My  husband,  the  Emperor,  would  never  consent 
to  bestow  his  daughters  upon  pelfty  princes,  who,  instead  of  bringing  in- 
fluence with  them,  would  derive  their  reflected  consequence  from  an  al- 
liance with  us.  If  we  cannot  find  them  husbands  worthy  of  their  station, 
my  daughters  must  remain  single,  or  devote  their  lives  to  God." 

— "  If  your  Majesty's  eldest  daughters  choose  that  holy  vocation,  poli- 
tics need  not  interfere  with  their  inclinations.  The  boyish  heirs  of  Eu- 
ropean kingdoms  can  await  the  advent  of  the  younger  princesses." 

— •'  Let  them  wait,"  said  the  Empress,  "  we  will  train  noble  queens 
for  them." 

"  But  the  Archduke  Leopold  need  not  wait,"  said  Kaunitz ;  "  we  will 
begin  with  him.  The  Spanish  Ambassador  has  received  from  his  Sov- 
ereign, Carlos  IV.,  a  letter  directing  him  to  ofTer  his  daughter  Maria 
Louisa  to  your  Majesty's  second  son.  Knowing  that  his  Highness,  the 
Archduke  Joseph,  is  your  Majesty's  successor,  he  supposes  that  the  Em- 
peror Francis  will  bestow  upon  his  second  son  the  Grand  Duchy  of  Tus- 
cany." J, 

"A  very  good  alliance,"  returned  Maria  Theresa,  nodding  her  head. 
"  The  women  of  the  house  of  Bourbon  are  all  estimable.  Our  lost  Isa- 
bella was  a  lovely  woman.  Well  !  the  grand  daughter  of  the  King  of 
Spain,  having  died,  let  us  renew  our  connection  with  him  through  his 
daughter ;  and  may  God  grant  to  Leopold  happier  nuptials  than  were 
those  of  ray  poor  Joseph." 


113  JOSEPH  THE  SECOND 

" The  Aichduke  Joseph,  too,  must  marry,"  saiJ  Kaunitz. 

"  Poor  Joseph  !"  sighed  the  Empress.     "  His  heart  is  full  of  sorrow 
even  now,  and  while  he  weeps  for  his  dead,  we  make  plans  to  marry 
him  to  another.     But  you  are  right  Count ;  ho  must  marry.    We  cannot 
listen  to  his  heart,  he  must  sacrifice  himself  to  duty.     Austria  must  have   > 
another  heir.     But  let  us  give  him  a  little  respite,"  -   ' 

"  He  will  forget  his  sorrow  when  he  is  crowned  King  of  Rome,"  said 
Kaunitz.  "  Ambition  is  certain  to  cure  love ;  and  the  possession  of  a 
crown  may  well  console  any  man  for  the  loss  of  a  woman." 

Maria  Theresa  was  displeased.  "  Do  you  deem  it,  then,  so  light  a 
thing,"  said  she  with  a  frown,  "  to  lose  a  beloved  wife  ?  Do  you  think  • 
it  great  happiness  to  wear  a  crown?  You  know  nothing  either  of  the 
pains  of  power  or  the  joys  of  marriage;  but  I  can  tell  you  that  many  a 
time  I  would  have  feinted  under  the  burthen  of  my  crown,  had  my  Franz 
not  sustained  me  with  his  loving  and  beloved  hand.  But  what  know  you 
of  love  1  Your-heart  is  a  market-place  wherein  you  seek  slaves  for  your 
harem,'  but  no  honorable  woman  would  make  it  her  home.  I  have  heard 
scandalous  reports  concerning  your  house,  Count  Kaunitz ;  I  have " 

A  light  knock  was  heard  at  the  door,  and  as  the  Empress  gave  the 
word,  father  Porhammer  entered  the  room. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

MATRIMONIAL  PLANS. 

Father  Porhammer  came  forward,  while  the  Empress  looked  at  him 
with  a  glance  of  astonishment. 

— "  Forgive  me,  your  Majesty,  for  this  intrusion.  It  is  in  accordance 
with  your  gracious  commands,  whose  fulfillment  I  have  no  right  to  delay. 
I  was  ordered  by  your  Majesty  to  prove  the  fact  which  I  asserted." 

"  Well,  have  you  the  proof?"  said  the  Empress  impatiently.  "I  have, 
your  Majesty.'  It  is  in  the  carriage  of  the  Lord  Chancellor,  at  the  great 
door  of  the  palace." 

The  Empress  made  an  exclamation ;  and  her  face  grew  scarlet  with 
anger.  Her  stormy  looks  rested  upon  Kaunitz,  who,  perfectly  uncon- 
cerned, seemed  not  to  have  heard  what  Porhammer  had  said.  This  un- 
disturbed serenity  on  the  part  of  her  Minister,  gave  the  Empress  time 
for  recollection.  She  knew  from  experience  that  the  lightening  of  her 
wrath  would  play  harmlessly  about  the  head  of  this  living  statue,  and 
she  felt  more  keenly  than  she  had  ever  done  before,  that  however  Kau- 
nitz's  private  life  might  shock  her  own  sense  of  honor  and  decency,  his 
vast  intellect  as  State-Gouucillor  was  indispens-able  to  Austria. 


■  KING  OF  ROME.  113 

With  a  quick  add  haughty  gesture,  she  motioned  the  priest  away,  and 
then  began  to  pace  up  and  down  the  length  of  the  apartment. 

Kaunitz  remained  tranquil  near  the  table,  his  cold  glances  resting  now 
on  the  papers,  now  on  the  pictures  that  hang  opposite  to  him.  He  was 
busily  engaged  arranging  his  Alengon  rufiles,  when  the  Empress  stopped, 
and  hxed  her  fiery  eyes  upon  him. 

"My  Lord  Chancellor,  Count  Kaunitz,  tell  me.  who  sits  in  your  car- 
riage before  the  doors  of  my  palace,  awaiting  your  return  from  this  con- 
ference ?" 

— "  Who  sits  in  my  carriage,  your  Majesty  T  I  was  not  aware  that 
any  one  was  there  whoso  name  it  was  necessary  for  me  to  announce  to 
your  Imperial  Majesty." 

— "  I  can  well  believe  that  you  would  not  dare  to  pronounce  the  name 
of  that  person  in  my  presence,"  cried  the  Empress  indignantly,  "but  let 
me  tell  you,  Sir  Count,  that  your  behavior  is  highly  displeasing  to  me, 
and  that  I  blush  to  hear  the  things  I  do,  to  the  disparagement  of  your 
honor  and  morality." 

"  lias  your  Majesty  any  complaint  to  make  of  mo  as  Minister,  or  as 
President  of  Council  ?"  asked  Kaunitz  almost  roughly.  "  Have  I  not 
fulfilled  the  vows  I  made  to  your  Majesty  ten  years  ago?  Have  I  dis- 
charged my  duties  carelessly  ?  The  ship  of  state  which,  in  her  hour  of 
peril,  was  confided  to  my  hands,  have  I  not  *;teered  her  safely  through 
rocks  and  reefs  ?  Or  have  1  been  unfaithful  to  my  trust  ?  If  your  Ma- 
jesty can  convict  me  of  crime,  or  even  of  negligence,  then  sit  in  judg- 
ment upon  the  culprit.  .  Tell  mo,  of  what  state  offence  am  I  accused  1" 

"  I  do  not  speak  of  my  Prime  Minister,"  replied  the  Empress,  some- 
what embarrassed.  "  I  have  no  fault  to  find  with  him.  On  the  contra- 
ry, he  has  nobly  kept  the  pledge  he  made  to  me  and  to  my  Austria,  and 
he  has  been  a  wise,  faithful  and  conscientious  servant.  But  this  is  not 
enough,  there  are  also  duties  to  perform  towards  God,  towards  society, 
and  towards  one's  self." 

— "For  your  Majesty  as  well  as  for  me,  it  suffices  that  I  am  true  to 
my  duties  as  your  subject.  As  to  my  duty  as  a  man,  this  is  no  place 
to  discuss  a  matter  which  lies  between  God  and  myself.  It  would  be 
indecorous  for  me  to  raise  the  veil  of  my  private  life  before  the  eyes  of 
your  Majesty.  I  came  here  to  speak  of  Austria's  welfare  and  yours, 
not  of  me  or  mine." 

Without  giving  time  to  the  Empress  to  make  any  reply,  Kaunitz  re- 
«  sumed  the  subject  which  had  been  interrupted  by  the  visit  of  Father 
Porhammer. 

"Though  your  Majesty  may  deem  it  expedient  to  postpone  the  may- 
riage  of  the  Archduke  Joseph,  still  that  need  not  prevent  us  from  taking 
the  steps  that  will  be  necessary  to  secure  an  advantageous  alliance  for 
the  heir  to  the  throne.  We  can  grant  a  respite  to  the  Archduke  of 
Austria,  but  the  King  of  Rome  must  stifle  his  grief,  and  attend  to  the 
calls  of  duty.  He  must  silence  his  heart,  for  the  Emperor  of  Austria 
must  have  a  successor." 


114  JOSEPH  THE  SECOND. 

"  At  least  let  us  choose  him  a  bride  worthy  to  succeed  in  his  affections 
the  angelic  wife  he  has  lost,"  said  the  Empress,  with  feeling. 
.  Something  like  a  smile  flitted  over  Kaunitz's  sardonic  face.  "Your 
Majesty  must  pardon  me,  but  you  view  this  matter  entirely  too  much 
as  a  thing  of  sentiment,  whereas,  in  fffect,  it  is  an  affair  of  policy.  The 
main  object  of  the  Archduke's  marriage  is  to  find  a  princess  whose  fam- 
ily can  advance  the  interests  of  the  state,  and  who  is  in  a  condition  to 
bear  children." 

''  And  have  you  already  found  such  a  wife  for  my  poor  child  ?"  ^sked 
the  Empress.  "  Have  you  one  to  propose  whom  policy  will  approve, 
and  who  will  not  be  distasteful  to  the  eye  or  the  heart 'I" 

"  She  must  be  a  German  princess,"  said  Kaunitz. 

— "  Why  MUST  ?" 

— "  Because  the  house  of  Hapsburg  must  court  the  good-will  of  all, 
Germany,  which,  through  this  long  war  and  from  the  divided  interests  of 
the  German  people,  it  is  in  danger  of  losing.  Prussia,  grown  morally 
strong  by  the  war,  is  about  to  become  the  rival  of  Austria,  and  even 
now  she  seeks  to  have  a  voice  in  German  politics.  Northern  Germany 
already  inclines  to  Prussia  by  its  sympathies  of  creed  and  opinion.  If^ 
we  allow  this  to  go, on,  Prussia  will  divide  Germany  into  two  halves. 
The  northern  half,  that  which  is  Protestant,  and  in  my  opinion  the  wiser 
half,  because  free  from  the  prejudices  of  religion,  will  belong  to  enlight- 
ened Prussia;  the  southern  half,  the  bigoted  Catholic  portion,  that  which 
believes  in  the  Pope  and  his  Jesuits,  m^iy  perhaps  adhere  to  Austria. 
Then  comes  revolution.  Prussia  will  have  for  her  allies,  not  only  Nor- 
thern Germany,  but  Sweden,  England,  Holland,  Denmark,  even  Russia, 
Every  step  she  takes  in  advance  will  drive  back  Austria  ;  and  the  day 
may  come  when  Prussia,  our  powerful  enemy,  will  seek  for  the  Mar- 
grave of  Brandenburg,  the  crown  of  the  Kaisers." 

"  Never !  never  !"  exclaimed  Maria  Theresa  passionately.  "  To  think 
of  this  little  Burgrave  of  Nuremberg,  the  vassal  of  Rudolf  of  Hapsburg, 
growing  to  be  the  rival  of  the  stately  house  of  Austria  !  No,  no  !  Never 
shall  the  day  dawn  when  Austria  descends  to  equality  with  Prussia ! 
We  are  natural  enemies,  we  can  no  more  call  the  Brandenburgs  brothers 
than  the  eagle  can  claim  kindred  with  the  vulture !  You  are  right, 
Count,  the  strife  of  the  battle-field  is  over,  let  us  gird  ourselves  for  that 
of  diplomacy.  Let  us  be  wary  and  watchful;  not  only  the  State,  but 
the  Holy  Church  is  in  danger.  I  can  no  longer  allow  this  prince  of  in- 
fidels to  propagate  his  unbelief  or  his  Protestantism  throughout  my 
Catholic  fatherland.  We  are  the  ally  and  the  daughter  of  our  holy  fa- 
tlv^r,.the  Pope,  and  we  must  be  up  and  doing  for  God  and  for  our  coun- 
try. Now  let  us  think  how  we  are  to  check  this  thirst  of  Prussia  for 
power." 

*  "  There  are  two  expedients,"  said  Kaunitz,  calmly  interrupting  the 
Empress  in  her  torrent  of  indignation. 

— "  Let  U3  hear  them." 

— "  The' first  one  is  to  strengthen  our  interest  with  Germany  either- 


KING  Of  ROME.  1  1  o 

by  offers  of  advantages  and  honors,  payment  of  subsidies,  or  by  matri- 
monial alliances.  For  this  reason,  it.  is,  that  the  future  King  of  Rome 
must  choose  his  wife  among  the  princesses  of  Germany.  Through  your 
Majesty's  other  children  we  -will  ally  ourselves  to  the  rest  of  Europe. 
The  Bourbons  reign  in  the  South,  and  the}-  must  all  be  allied  to  the 
house  of  Ilapsburg.  Through  the  marriage  of  Archduke  Leopold  with 
the  daughter  of  the  King  of  Spain,  we  will  gain  a  powerful  ally  ;  and 
the  Archduke  himself,  as  Grand  ]Juke  of  Tuscany,  will  represent  Aus- 
tria's interests  in  Italy.  If  the  Crown  Prince  of  Parma  and  the  young 
King  of  Naples  unite  themselves  to  two  of  your  Majesty's  daughters, 
then  all  Italy  will  be  leagued  with  Austria.  When  this  is  accomplished, 
the  word  'Italy  '  will  be  a  geographical  designation,  but  the  country  will 
be  an  Austrian  dependency.  Now  for  western  Europe,  for  France,  we 
must  confirm  our  alliance  with  her  also.  The  son  of  the  Dauphin,  tho 
grandson  of  Louis  XV.  is  now  eleven  years  old  ;  just  throe  years  older 
than  the  Archduchess  Maria  Antoinette." 

"  Truly,  Kaunitz,  your  plans  are  great,"  cried  the  Empress,  her  face 
full  of  smiles  and  radiant  with  joy.  "The  Emperor  often  calls  me  a 
match-maker,  but  I  am  an  insignificant  scheemer  by  your  side.  I  must 
say  that  I  approve  your  plans,  and  will  do  all  that  I  can  to  ensure«them 
success." 

"The  most  of  them  are  for  the  future ;  before  all  things  we  must  be- 
stir ourselves  about  the  present.  You  have  seen  how  later,  we  will  se- 
cure the  friendship  of  the  South  ;  that  of  the  North  must  come  through 
the  marriage  of  the  King  of  Rome.  His  selection  of  a  German  princess 
will  incline  all  Germany  towards  your  Majesty's  imperial  house.  Near- 
est to  Prussia,  are  the  two  important  Principalities  of  Bavaria  and 
Saxony." 

"  And  both  have  unmarried  princesses,"  exclaimed  the  Empress,  joy- 
fully. "  I  wish  we  might  select  the  daughter  of  the  Elector  of  Saxony, 
for  that  house  has  suffered  so  much  from  Austria,  that  I  would  gladly  do 
it  this  Aivor.  But  I  have  heard  that  the  Princess  Mary  Kunigunde  has 
very  few  charms." 

"  Perhaps  Josepha  of  Bavaria  may  be  handsomer,"  said  Kaunitz  dryly. 

— "She  is  nevertheless  the  daughter  of  Carl  VII.,  and  he  has  never 
been  my  friend.  I  have  suffered  much  from  this  man,  and  would  you 
have  me  accept  his  daughter  as  mine  V 

"  There  can  be  no  resentment  for  bygones  in  politics,"  said  Kaunitz, 
deliberately. 

"But  there  may  be  gratitude  for  past  services,"  exclaimed  the  Em- 
press, warmly.  "  I  shall  never  forget  how  Hungary  sustained  me  when 
this  man  would  have  robbed  me  of  my  crown.  I  would  never  have  worn 
my  imperial  diadem  but  for  the  help  of  God,  and  the  sword  of  St.  Ste- 
phen, which  my  brave  Magyars  drew  for  me  on  the  battle-field  !  V^ith- 
out  Hungary  1  would  have  been  dethroned,  and  shall  I  now  place  the 
crown  of  St.  Stephen's  upon  the  brow  of  an  enemy's  daughter  \  It 
would  be  an  injustice  to  my  loyal  Hungarians.     I  shall  give  my  voice 


116  .JOSEPH  THE  SECOND. 

to  Mary  of  Saxony,  bat  if  Joseph  prefers  Josepha,  I  will  not  oppose  his 
choice.  And  this  matter  settled,  tell  me  your  other  plans  for  strength- 
ening the  power  of  Austria." 

" My  second  plan  is  to  humanise  the  Hungarian  nobles.  These  no- 
bles reign  in  Hungary  like  so  many  j^etty  sovereigns.  There  is  no  such 
a  thing  as  nationality  among  them.  The  country  is  divided  into  nobles 
and  vassals.  The  nobles  are  so  powerful  that  the  government  is  com- 
pletely lost  sight  of,  and  the  real  sovereigns  of  Hungary  are  the  Mag- 
yars." 

"That  is  in  some  sense,  true,"  answered  the  Empress.  *'  I  have  often 
felt  how  dangerous  to  my  rights  was  the  arrogance  of  my  Hungarian 
subjects.     They  lift  their  haughty  heads  too  near  the  regions  of  royalty." 

"And  your  Majesty's  great  ancestor,  Charles  V,  once  said  that  nothing 
had  a  right  to  lift  its  head  in  the  vicinity  of  a  king.  The  very  trees 
■would  l^e  lop,  that  their  branches  might  not  grow  too  near  to  heaven, 
how  much  more  the  heads  of  men,  when  they  were  raised  too  high." 

' — "  But  such  a  policy  shall  never  be  mine — I  will  never  buy  obedience 
with  oppression.  Besides,  I  have  already  said  that  I  am  under  obliga- 
tions to  my  Hungarian  nobles,  and  I  will  not  injure  a  hair  of  their  heads." 

"  There  are  other  ways  of  conquering  besides  the  sword,"  said  the 
crafty  Kaunit^j.  "  Coercion  would  but  fortify  the  Magyars  in  their  inso- 
lence. These  haughty  lords  must  be  enticed  from  their  fastnesses  to 
Vienna.  They  must  be  greeted  with  honors,  titles  and  estates.  They 
must  be  taught  to  love  splendor,  to  spend  money,  to  accumulate  debts, 
until  they  become  bankrupt,  and  their  possessions  in  Hungary  fall  into 
the  hands  of  the  Crown." 

"  What  an  infamous  policy,"  cried  the  Empress. 

"  Good,  nevertheless,"  said  Kaunitz  calmly.  "  Nothing  can  be  done 
with  the  Magyars  by  force.  They  must  be  vanquished  by  pleasure,  and 
also  by  marriage.  They  must  be  made  to  take  home  Viennese  wives, 
who  will  initiate  them  into  the  arts  of  refined  life,  who  will  help  them 
to  waste  their  money,  and  so  cut  off  the  wings  of  their  freedom.  He 
who  has  learned  to  love  pleasure  will  have  no  taste  for  sedition,  and  he 
who  is  in  debt  is  no  longer  free.  Your  Majesty  must  bestow  gifts  and 
places  9.t  court;  the  Magyars  will  grow  ambitious, — they   will  become 

hangers-on  of  princes,  and dissipation,  ostentation,  and  extravagance 

will  do  the  rest." 

While  Kaunitz  was  unfolding  his  Satanic  schemes,  the  Empress  walk- 
ed up  and  down,  in  visible  agitation.  When  he  ceased,  she  came  and 
stood  before  him,  and  with  her  searching  eyes  she  tried  to  look  through 
the  mask  of  his  impenetrable  countenance. 

"  W^hat  you  have  said  there,"  said  she,  "  is  a  mournful  leaf  from  the 
book  of  worldly  wisdom  which  guides  your  actions,  and  it  is  enough  to 
make  an  honest  heart  ache  to  think  that  good  can  be  reached  by  such 
foul  means.  My  heart  struggles  against  such  a  course,  but  my  head  ap- 
proves it,  and  I  dare  not  listen  to  my  womanly  scruples,  for  1  am  a  Sov- 
ereign.   May  the  wiles  of  thb  women  of  Vienna  make  loyal  subjects  of 


KTI^  OF  ROMy,  IIT 

my  brftve  Hungariani.  1  will  bestow  honors  without  end  ;  but  for  aught, 
else,  let  it  come  as  it  may.  Extravagance,  debt  ani^sequesXration,  they 
must  bring  about  themselves."  ' 

— "They  will  follow,' and  then  sequestered  estates  must  go  to  Aus- 
trian nobles,  that  our  own  people  rnay  mingle  with  the  Magyars  at  home, 
and  strengthen  the  influence  of  your  Majesty's  house  in  Hungary." 

"Say  no  more,"  said  the  Empress  mournfully.  "  Bring  them  hither, 
if  you  can,  but  my  heart  aches,  and  my  /ears  burn  to  have  heard  M'hat 
you  hfT/e  paid.  Say  no  more  of  Hungary  tome — let  us  ppeak  of  our 
bright  plana  for  my  children.  It  makes  me  happy  to  think  that  so  many 
of  them  will  wear  crowns." 

"The  first  will  be  that  of  the  King  of  Rome,  and  I  trust  that  before 
his  coronation,  your  Majesty  will  have  persuaded  him  to  marry  one  of 
the  two  German  princesses  of  whom  we  have  spoken." 

"  The  Saxon  or  the  Bavarian,"  said  the  Empress.  "J  think  he  will 
comply,  for  he  will  understand  as  well  as  ourselves  the  urgency  of  the 
case.     When  will  the  coronation  take  place?" 

"In  two  weeks,  your  Majesty." 

— "Then  poor  Joseph  has  but  fourteen  days  for  his  grief.  When  ho 
returns  from  Frankfort,  I  will  remind  him  of  his  duty  as  a  sovereign. 
But  hark  !  It  is  twelve  o'clock, 'the  hour  for  Mass.  If  the  Lord  Chan- 
cellor has  nothing  more  to  propose  I " 

"  Pardon  me,  your  Majesty.  I  have  an  insignificant  petition  to  pre- 
sent.    It  concerns  myself." 

"  It  is  a  pleasure  to  me,"  said  Maria  Theresa,  "  to  think  that  in  any 
way  I  can  gratify  you.  Speak  then  without  fear.  What  can  I  do  to 
serve  you?" 

"It  is  only  for  the  sake  of  decorum,  your  Majesty,"  replied  Kannitz, 
"You  say  that  I  have  been  useful  to  the  country.  I  confess  that  I  too 
think  that  I  deserve  something  from  Austria.  If  I  were  another  man, 
and  Kaunitz  stood  by,  as  I  thought  of  all  that  he  has  done  and  is  trying 
still  to  do,  to  make  Austria  powerful,  I  would  speak  thus  to  your  Ma- 
jesty :  '  It  is  in  the  power  of  the  Empress  to  distinguish  merit,  by  eleva- 
tin'g  it  in  position  above  the  common  herd.  Your  Majesty  has  honored 
Count  Kaunitz  by  calling  him  }?our  right  hand.  When  the  head  of  a 
body  politic  is  an  Empress,  it  is  not  enough  for  the  right  hatid  to  be  call- 
ed simply  a  Count.' " 

"Shall  I  call  you  Prince?"  laughed  Maria  Tlieresa. 

"  It  !s  that  which  I  was  about  to  propose  to  your  Majesty,"  said  Kau- 
nitz, as  he  made  a  deeper  inclination  than  usual  before  the  Empress. 

"Then  it  shall  be  so,"  said  she  warmly.  "  From  this  moment  my  es- 
teemed Minister,  is  Prince  Kaunitz,  and  the  letters  patent  shall  be  made 
this  very  day." 

She  reached  her  hand  to  the  new-made  Prince,  who  kissed  it  fervently. 
"  I  take  this  title,  so  graciously  bestowed,  not  because  it  will  confer 
splendor  upon  my  own  name,  because  it  will  prove  to  the  world  that 
those  who  serve  Maria  Theresa  with  |idelity,  she  delights  to  honor. 


1  18  ,  JOSEPH  TliK  .SECOND 

And  now  that  this  trifling  matter  is  arranged,  1  beg  your  Majesty's  per- 
mission to  retire."  ,  v 

"  fJntil  to-morrow,"  replied  the  vEmpress,  with  a  smile.  8he  wave4 
her  hand,  but  as  Kaunitz  left  the  room,  he  heard  her  folloNving  him  into 
the  ante-room.  He  had  already  opened  the  door  leading  into  the  hall, 
but  hearing  her  still  advance,  he  turned  again,  and  made  a  profound  in- 
clination. 

"Au  Revoir,  my  dear  Prince,"  said  the  Empress,  loud  enough  for  Fa- 
ther Porhammer,  who  waited  to  accompany  her  to  the  Chapel,  to  hear 
her  greeting.  The  father  could  not  withhold  some  trace  of  his  displea- 
sure from  his  countenance,  while  Kaunitz  passed  on  with  a  laint,  derisive 
smile. 

The  Empress  at  that  moment  re-opened  the  door  and  came  out  into 
the  hall.     Eather  Porhammer,  advancing  to  her,  said,  "Did  I  not  prove^ 
to  your  Majesty  the  truth  of  my  statement  concerning  the  immorality 
of " 

"  The  what  ?"  said  the  Empress  with  an  absent  air.  "  Oh  yes  !  yes ! 
I  had  forgotten.  You  wished  to  prove  to  me  that  the  Lord  Chancellor 
had  some  person  in  his  carriage  awaiting  his  return.  I  believe  you,  fa- 
ther— doubtless  there  is  some  one  in  the  carriage  of  the  Lord  Chancel- 
lor whom — it  would  be  improper  to  name  in  my  presence.  But  listen 
to  what  I  have  to  say  on  Ihis  subject.  It  is  better  for  you  and  for  me 
not  to'see  what  goes  on  either  in  the  Lord  Chancellor's  house  or  in  his 
carriage.  Close  your  eyes,  as  I  shall  mine,  to  whatever  is  objectionable 
in  his  life.  I  cannot  afford  to  lose  his  services.  So  far  as  I  am  concern- 
ed, he  is  blameless.  His  life  may  be  loose,  but  his  loyalty  is  firm ;  he 
is  a  wise  and  great  statesman,  and  that,  you  will  allow,  is  a  virtue  that 
may  well  cover  a  multitude  of  sins." 

Eather  Porhammer  bowed  to  the  will  of  his  sovereign ;  Prince  Kau- 
nitz went  on  as  before. 

"  Let  us  hasten  to  the  Chapel,"  added  the  Empress ;  and  a  page 
throwing  wide. open  the  doors  of  another  apartment,  Maria  Theresa  join- 
ed her  lords  and  ladies  in  waiting,  and  the  imperial  court  entered  the 
chapel. 

But  the  thoughts  of  the  Empress  were  more  of  earth  than  heaven,  on 
that  morning.  Her  heart  was  filled  with  maternal  cares,  and  when  the 
services  were  over  and  she  had  arrived  at  the  door  of  her  cabinet,  she 
dismissed  her  attendants  and  surr^moned  to  her  presence  the  Marshal  of 
the  Household,  Count  Dietrichsteln.  ' 

As  soon  as  he  appeared,  Maria  Theresa  said  eagerly,  "  come  hither 
Count ;  I  wish  to  have  a  confidential  conversation  with  you.  You  are 
an  old  and  faithful  servant  of  my  famil}^,  and  I  know  that  I  can  depend, 
upon  your  discretion." 

"  Your  Majesty  well  knows  that  I  would  sooner  die  than  betray  a  se- 
cret of  my  imperial  mistress,"  exclaimed  good,  fat  old  Dietrichstein, 
fervently.  , 

The  Empress  looked  kindly  at  his  red,  good-humored  flice.     "And 


KlJSci  i>r  KOMK  1  JC} 

you  would  rather  die  than  loll  mc  an  untruth  also,  is  it  not  so,*'  said 
she,  smiling. 

"  That,"  replied  Count  Dietrichstein,  with  another  smile,  "that  13  au 
embarassing  question  ;  for  there  are  cases,  when  even  vour  Maiestv's 
self "  '  -^ 

— "Yes,  yes;  but  in  this  instance,  I  earnestly  desire  to  hear  the  un- 
varnished truth." 

"If  so,  your  Majesty's  desire  is  for  me  a  command,  and  I  will  answer 
truthfully  whatever  you  ask." 

"Well  then,  listen  tome.  You  have  just  returned  from  a  tour  in 
Havaria  and  Saxony.  Of  course  you  have  seen  the  two  princesses,  Mary 
Kunigunde  and  Josepha." 

"I  know  them  both,"  said  Dietrichstein,  pufllng. 

— "Well,  tell  me  what  sort  of  person  is  the  Princess  Mary  Kuni- 
gunde." 

"  She  is  slender,"  replied  Dietrichstein,  shrugging  his  shoulders,  "slen- 
der as  a  beanpole.  If  your  Majesty  will  pardon  me  the  expression  in 
favor  of  its  truth,  her  bones  rattle  as  she  walks,  and  if  you  should  chance 
to  touch  her  by  accident,  I  pity  you." 

—"What  for?" 

— ^"Because  you  will  retreat  from  the  collision  bruised." 

"  You  are  a  wicked  slanderer.  Count,"  replied  the  Empress,  You 
mean  to  say  that  the  Princess  of  Saxony  is  frail  and  feminine  in  her  ap- 
pearance." 

— "If  your  Majesty  pleases,  so  be  it;  but  if  you  looked  into  her  se- 
rene Highness's  face,  you  might  mistake  her  for  a  man,  nevertheless." 

"Holy  Virgin,  what  does  the  man  mean'?"  cried  the  Empress,  as- 
tounded. 

"I  mean,"  said  the  Count,  with  a  sort  of  comic  seriousness,  "that  the 
frail  and  feminine  princess  has  a  black  beard  which  a  Cornet  mio-ht 
enVy." 

— "  Nonsense,  Count ;  you  saw  her  at  twilight,  and  mistook  a  shadow 
on  her  face  for  a  beard." 

— "  Pardon  me,  your  Majesty,  you  commanded  me  to  tell  the  truth ! 
I  saw  the  Princess  by  sunlight  as  well  as  by  candlelight.  Under  all  cir- 
cumstances, this  black  shadow  overhung  her  not  very  small  mouth  •  and 
I  have  strong  reason  for  persisting  in  my  opinion  that  it  was  a  flourish- 
ing beard." 

"  But  Josepha  of  Bavaria — is  she  handsomer?" 

"Handsomer,  your  Majesty,"  cried  the  old  Count.  "It  is  said  that 
she  is  a  good  and  estimable  person  ;  if  this  be  true  her  soul  is  very,  very 
different  from  her  body.  Indeed  her  beauty  may  be  said  to  rival  that 
of  the  Princess  Mary." 

"You  area  keen  critic,"  sighed  the  Empress.  "But  suppose  you 
were  obliged  to  marry  either  one  of  the  princesses,  which  ono  would  you 
choose'?" 

"Your  Majesty!"  exclaimed  the  old  Countj  horror-Btricken,     " ]  never 


^£^  JO:SfiPH  THE  :*ECONJ*. 

would  hovs*  the  asfiurance  to  raise  my  eyes  to  thoughts  of  marriage  with 
a  serene  H'ghness."  " 

**  Well  then,"  said  the  Empress.  "Suppose  you  wore  a  Prince  and 
her  equal  in  birth,  whioh  one  then  would  you  prefer  1" 

The  Count  looked  at  the  floor  and  was  silent. 

"  The  truth,  the  truth !"  cried  the  Empress.  "  Speak  out  and  do  not 
fear.  Whatever  you  say  shall  be  sacred  with  me.  Now  tell  me,  which 
of  the  two  would  you  take  to  wife'?" 

"  Well,  then,"  said  Count  Dietrichstein,  with  a  grimace  of  excessive 
disgusk,  "since  your  Majesty  obliges  me  to  suppose  the  case,  I  will  tell 
the  truth.  If  by  any  artifice  I  could  escape,  nothing  on  earth  would  in- 
duce me  to  marry  either  one  of  them.  But  if  the  knife  were  at  my 
throat,  and  I  had  no  other  way  of  saving  my  life,  I  would  take  the  Prin- 
cess Josepba,  for  she " 

"  Speak  out,"  said  the  Empress,  amused,  though  sorely  disappointed. 
"  You  would  marry  Josepha  of  Bavaria  because " 

"  Because,"  sighed  the  fat  old  Count,  "  if  she  ts  horribly  ugly,  she  has, 
at  least,  something  like  a  woman's  bosom." 

Maria  Theresa  broke  out  into  a  hearty  laugh.  "You  are  right,"  said 
she,  *'  the  reason  is  a  very  good  one,  and  has  its  weight.  I  thank  you 
for  your  candor,  and  will  turn  over  in  my  mind  what  ^ou  have  told  me." 

"  But  your  Majesty  has  promised  not  to  betray  me,"  protested  the 
Count  with  imploring  look, 

"  And  I  will  keep  my  promise  faithfully,"  replied  the  Empress  reach- 
ing him  her  hand.  "  Nevertheless,  I  cling  to  the  hope  that  you  have 
exaggerated  the  defects  of  the  princesses,  and  that  they  are  not  altogeth- 
er fts  ugly  a«  you  have  pictured  fchem  to  me.* 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

JOSEPHA  OF  BAVARIA. 

Ebstivity  reigned  at  the  Court  and  throughout  the  city  of  Vienna. 
The  weather  was  cold,  but  the  streets  were  thronged  with  people  and 
hung  with  garlands.  Nothing  was  thought  of  but  balls,  illuminations, 
and  dress,  Every  one  was  curious  to  see  the  splendid  spectacle  of  the 
day,  the  entrance  of  the  bride  of  the  King  of  Rome  into  Vienna. 

The  plans  of  the  Lord  Chancellor  were  beginning  to  unfold  themselves. 
Tlie  Archduke  Joseph  had  been  crowned  King  of  Rome  at  Frankfort, 

*  TkJs  conversation  U  hiitorical,  and  the  criticism  of  Count  Dietrichstein  upon  the  two  prioceiHS, 
«■  htre  ralbtvd,  ii  almost  verbatim.    See  WraxaU'a  Memoiri,  vol.  2,  page  406. 


KLXCJ  OK  KQUE.  I'^l 

and  the  Empress,  on  his  return,  had  prepared  him  for  his  second  bridaL 
IIo  had  stoutly  refused  at  first,  but  finally  had  yielded  to  the  reasonings 
of  his  mother  and  the  per&iiasions  of  his  father.  He  had  been  told  to 
choose  between  Mary  Kunigunde  and  Josepha. 

Not  far  from  Teplitr,  as  if  by  accident,  he  had  met  the  Princess  Mary 
out  on  a  hunting  party.  The  Princess  was  on  horseback  ;  but  she  rodo  " 
awkwardly,  and  her  demeanor  was  shy  and  ungraceful.  She  well  knew 
the  object  of  this  casual  meeting,  and  when  the  King  of  Rome  approach-* 
ed  to  greet  her,  she  turned  pale  and  trembled  as  she  felt  the  gaze  of  his 
large  blue  eyes.  Her  paleness  did  not  increase  her  beauty,  nor  did  her 
shyness  contribute  to  make  her  interesting.  Joseph  was  annoyed  at  her 
taciturnity,  and  disgusted  with  her  ugliness.  After  a  few  brief  words, 
he  bowed,  and  galloped  off  to  join  his  retinue.  The  Princess  looked 
sadly  after  him,  and  returned  htune  with  a  troubled  heart.  She  knew 
that  she  had  beeli  disdained,  and  that  the  King  of  Rome  would  never 
choose  her  for  his  bride. 

She  was  right.  Joseph  preferred  the  Princess  Josepha  whom  he  had 
also  "met  by  chance."  He,  like  Count  Dietrichstein,  having  the  knife 
at  his  throat,  selected  her  for  his  bride  who  was  minus  the  flourishing 
black  beard. 

It  was  the  22d  of  January  of  the  year  1765,  and  the  wedding-day  of 
the  King  of  Rome.  From  early  morning,  the  Archduchesses  at  the  pal- 
ace, had  been  practising  a  lyric  drama  from  the  pen  of  Metasiasio  call- 
ed  "  J7  Parnasso  confuso.^''  The  music  was  by  Gluck,  and  his  deep  bass 
was  heard  accompanying  the  sweet  rich  voices  of  the  bridegroom's  sis- 
ters. They  had  studied  their  parts  diligently,  and  felt  quite-confident  of 
success,  as  they  gathered  around  the  Maestro.  But  Gluck  was  never 
satisfied,  and  he  kept  Apollo  and  the  Muses  at  their  music-lesson  until 
their  ladies  of  honor  were  obliged  to  inform  them  that  they  must  posi- 
tively retire  to  their  toilets ;  a  courier  having  arrived  to  say  that  the 
Princess  had  entered  the  gates  of  the  city. 

While  all  these  preparations  went  on  around  him,  the  King  of  Rome 
tarried- in  his  private  apartments."  He  was  in  the  room  where  he  had 
locked  himself  after  the  death  of  Isabella,  the  room  where  day  and  night 
he  had  deplored  his  lost  happiness,  until  Christina  had  so  rudely  awa- 
kened him  from  his  dream  of  love  and  sorrow.  / 

This  miserable  consolation  has  had  its  eflect.  Joseph  wiped  away  his 
tears,  and  having  read  Isabella's  letters  and  convinced  himself  that  she 
never  had  loved  him,  he  had  forborn  to  murmur  at  her  loss. 

On  this,  his  bridal  day,  he  was  thinking  of  the  time  when  alone  and 
heart-broken  he  had  paced  this  room  for  three  days  and  nights;  and  now 
surrounded  by  festivity  and  splendor,  he  paced  the  floor  again,  awaiting 
the  moment  when  he  should  have  to  mount  his  horse  and  meet  the 
Princess.  He  was  not  with  the  living  bride,  but  with  the  dead  one,  and 
as  he  thought  of  her  grace,  her  smiles,  her  surpassing  beauty,  his  lip 
curled  with  a  sneer,  and  his  brow  grew  dark  and  stormy. 

*'  And  she,  too,  deceived  me,"  said  he ;  "  those  smiles,  those  glances, 


122  JOSEPH  ftiE  SECOND. 

that  love,  all  were  false.  While  she  lay  in  my  arms  and  listened  to  n:!y 
words  of  love,  her  heart  was  in  the  grave  with  lier  murdered  lover !  Oh, 
ray  Grod  !  now  that  I  know  that  she  deceived  me,  in  whom  ou  this  earth 
can  I  place  my  trust !  Even  now  what  am  I  but  a  dependent  boy,  the 
slave  of  the  Empress  and  of  her  all-powerful  Minister,  M^ho  force  upon 
me  a  woman  whom  I  hate,  and  bid  me  make'  her  the  mother  of  my  chil- 
dren.    0,  when  will  my  shackles  fall,  when  shall  I  b.e  free !" 

In  the  distance  was  ii>eard  the  dull  sound  of  a  cannon.  "Already!" 
cried  the  unhappy  bridegroom.  "  It  is  time  for  me  to  pieet  my  bride, 
and  to  begin  the  loathsome  farce  of  a  second  bridal.  Verily  if  I  did  not 
hate  this  Josepha,  I  could  pity  her.  She  will  not  find  me  a  loving  hus- 
band.    The  Queen  of  Rome  will  never  be  an  enviable  woman  !" 

So  saying,  he  threw  around  his  shoulders  his  velvet  cloak  edged  with 
ermine,  and  left  the  room  to  join  his  retinue.  They  were  to  meet  the 
Princess  and  accompany  her  to  the  castle  of  Schcinbrunn.  It  was  there 
that  the  imperial  fiimily  awaited  the  bridal  party,  and  there  in  the  chapel 
the  marriage  was  to  be  solemnised. 

The  streets  were  thronged  with  people  that  shouted  for  joy  ;  the  bal- 
conies and  windows  were  filled  with  elegant  women,  who  smiled  and 
waved  their  hands  in  greeting  to  the  royal  pair.  For  all  the  world,  this 
was  a  day  of  rejoicing.  Except  for  the  two  persons  for  whose  sake  the  " 
rest  rejoiced.  These  had  no  part  in  the  universal  gayety  ;  and  the  mirth 
-  which  was  inspired  by  their  presence  found  no  echo  in  their  souls — Jo- 
seph's heart  was  full  of  dislike  and  ill-will  towards  his  betrothed,  and 
she  was  unhappy,  fearing  the  reception  that  awaited  her.  She  had  trem- 
bled as  she  thought  of  the  meeting  with  Joseph,  and  then  of  the  jjroud, 
powerful  and  beautiful  woman  who  was  his  mother.  The  fame  of  her 
intellect,  fascinations,  and  beauty,  had  reached  the  Court  of  Munich,  and 
poor  Josepha  knew  very  well  that  she  was  neither  handsome,  cultivated, 
nor  charming.  Her  education  had  been  neglected,  and  if  she  had  attain- 
ed to  the  honor  of  being  Queen  of  Rome,  and  Empress-expectant  of 
Austria,  it  was  not  that  she  had  any  right  to  a  station  so  exalted,  it  was 

that  her  brother  was  childless  and  had  promised  his  inheritance  to 

Austria. 

Josepha  was  sad,  as  she  thought  of  these  things;  but  she  could  not, 
suppress  an  emotion  of  joy,  when  she  saw  the  brilliant  cortege  that  was 
coming  from  Vienna  to  meet  Ijer.  This  proud  and  handsome  horseman, 
whose  blue  eyes  shone  like  star«,  this  was  her  husband,  the  lord  of  her 
destiny  !  She  had  seen  him  once  before,  and  had  loved  him  from  that 
moment.  True,  he  had  not  chosen  her  from  inclination,  but  she  could 
not  shut  her  heart  to  the  bliss  of  being  his  wife,  he  who  to-day  a  king, 
would  in  future  years  place  an  imperial  crown  upon  her  brow. 

And  now  the  two  cavalcades  met;  the  carriage  of  the  Princess  drew 

up,  and  the  King  of  Rome,  dismounting,  came  towards  her  with  a  low 

inclination  of  the  head.     Around  them  stood  the  noblemen  of  his  suite, 

whose  splendid  uniforms  and  decorations  dazzled  the  eye  with  their  bril- 

,  limey.     They  sprang  from  their  horses  and  each  one  reverentially  salu- 


KINU  OF  liuMi:.  12.", 

ted  the  bride  elect.  This  done,  the  King  of  Rome  assisted  her  to  alight, 
that  she  might  mount  the  magnificent  horse  which  was  now  led  forward 
by  the  Empress's  chief  master  of  the  horse. 

When  her  betrothed  held  out  his  hand  to  her,  Josepha  blushing,  look- 
ed at  him  with  a  timid  and  tender  glance,  which  seemed  to  implore  a  re- 
turn of  her  love.  She  could  not  speak  a  word,  but  she  pressed  his  hand. 
Joseph,  so  far  from  returning  the  pressure,  looked  surprised — almost 
disdainful;  and  stepping* back,  he  left  to  the  Master  of  the  Horse,  and 
the  other  lords  in  waiting,  the  care  of  assisting  the  Prmcess  to  mount. 
She  sprang  into  the  saddle  with  perfect , confidence,  and  grasped  her 
reins  with  so  much  skill,  that  although  the  beautiful  animal  reared  and 
pranced  until  his  bridle  was  covered  w'ith  foam,  hi«  rider  was  perfectly 
at  ease. 

'•She  is  at  least  a  good  horsewoman,"  said  Joseph  to  himself,  as  he 
took  his  place  by  her  side.  And  now  the  bells  chimed  merrily,  and  the 
cannon  proclaimed  to  all  Vienna  that  the  r'oyal  pair  were  about  to  enter 
the  city. 

Silently  they  rode  through  the  flower-strewn  strcetSj  silently  they 
heard  the  joyous  shouts  of  the  multitude,  here  and  there  smiling  wearily 
in  return,  but  both  tired  of  splendor,  and  both  longing  for  rest.  Neither 
spoke  to  the  other ;  what  had  they  to  say  to  one  another,  they  whom 
policy  had  chained  together  for  life? 

At  the  fartlW-end  of  the  city,  the  state-coach  of  the  Empress  awaited 
the  Princess.  .With  an  iudifl'erent  and  careless  air,  Joseph  handed  Jo- 
sepha to  the  carriage.  This  time  she  dared  not  press  his  hand  ;  but  as 
the  door  closed  upon  herself  and  her  governess,  she  threw  herself  back 
upon  the  velvet  cushions,  and  wept  bitterly. 

"  For  the  love  of  heaven,  what  mean  these  tears,  your  Highness," 
cried  the  governess.  "  Your  Highness's  head-dress  will  be  ruined,  and 
your  eyes  will  be  swollen." 

"  'Tis  true,"  murmured  Josepha,  "  I  have  no  right  to  weep,  as  other 
women  do  at  such  a  time.  1  am  nothing  but  a  puppet,  that  laughs  or 
weeps  as  etiquette  ordains." 

"  Your  Highness  is  excited,  and  docs  not  see  your  destiny  in  its  true 
light,"  replied  the  lady,  with  sympathy.  "It  is  one  which  any  woman 
on  earth  might  envy.  You, are  about  to  become  the  wife  of  the  hand- 
somest Prince  in  all  Europe,  an  Emperor  in  prospect,  and  son  of  the  great 
Maria  Theresa,  whose  beauty  and  goodness  arc  the  theme  of  the  whole 
world.  And  then  the  lovely  and  accomplished  Archduchesses  of  Aus- 
tria, they  are  to  be  your  sisters-in-law." 

"Yes,"  said  the  Princess,  passionately,  "and  look  at  me.  You  have 
known  me  since  my  infancy,  dear  friend,  therefore  you  need  not  flatter 
me  because  of  my  station.  ,  Look  at  me  and  tell  me  if  it  -^is  not  enough 
to  break  my  heart  that  I  must  appear  before  this  beautiful  Empress  and 
her  daughters,  and  that  I  must  try  to  win  the  love  of  this  Prince,  the 
glance  of  whose  eye  is  enough  to  kindle  love  in  the  heart  of  every  woman 
living — O  say,  and  speak  without  reserve — tell  rae  if  a  woman  so  ob- 


124  JOSEPH  THK  SECOND 

scure,  so  ignorant  and  so  destitute  of  charms,  can  ever  hope  to  be  loved 
or  cherished  by  such  a  family." 

"  Your  Highness  is  worthy  of  all  affection,  and  deserves  the  choicest 
of  the  blessings  that  are  in  store  for  you,"  replied  the  lady  of  honor, 
warmly.  "  No  one  that  knows  your  noble  heart  would  dare  to  say  that 
any  station  is  too  exalted  lor  you." 

"■  Oh,  who  will  be  troubled  with  looking  into  my  heart  in  imperial 
Vienna,"  sobbed  the  disheartened  Josepha.  "Externals  are  every  thing 
at  Court.  x\nd  I,  unhappy  one,  who  scarcely  dare  to  utter  my  heart's 
yearnings  to  those  who  encourage  me,  what  will  become  of  me  if  I  meet 
with  cold  glances  or  scornful  words!  I  feel  how  little  I  am  skilled  to 
win  love,  and  the  consciousness  of  my  defects  heightens  them  and  ren- 
ders me  still  more  repulsive." 

"Your  Highness  is  unjust  towards  yourself.  No  one  else  would  ever 
dream  of  speaking  in  such  terms  of  you.  Be  happy,  dear  lady,  and  you 
will  soon  grow  comely,  too." 

"  Happy  !"  sighed  the  Princess,  looking  from  the  window  at  the  ele- 
gant and  graceful  Prince,  who,  cold  and  stern  as  though  he  had  been  fol- 
lowing the  dead,  vouchsafed  not  a. look  towaWs  the  carriage  where  sat 
his  bride. 

With  a;iother  sigh  she  turned  her  head.  Her  eyes  encountered  those 
of  the  governess  fixed  upon  her  in  wondering  sympathy.  .  With  a  bitter 
smile,  Josepha  laid  her  hand  upon  the  shoulder  of  her  f.-tiwd. 

"1  must  tell  you  something,  Lucy,"  said  she.  "something  terrible  and 
sad.  Hear  well  my  words  and  mark  them  !  I  already  love  my  be- 
trothed beyond  power  of  expression,  but  he  will  never  return  my  love. 
I  will  worship  him,  and  1  feel  that  he  will  hate  me!" 

Blushing  painfully  at  the  sound  of  her  own  words,  the  Princess  hid  her 
face  in  her  hands. 

The  carriage  stopped,  and  now  the  confused  and  self-tortured  girl  had 
to  go  forward  to  meet  the  Emperor,  who  waited  at  the  foot  of  the  great 
staircase  to  conduct  her  to  the  presence  of  the  Empress. 

Maria  Theresa  came  gracefully  forward,  surrounded  by  her  beautiful 
daughters  and  a  dazzling  train  of  lords  and  ladies.  Josepha's  head  reeled 
when  she  saw  them,  and  almost  fainting,  she  sank  down  at  the  feet  of 
the  Empress. 

"  Mercy,  gracious  Empress,  mercy  !"  sobbed  the  poor  girl,  almost  be- 
side herself  with  terror,  while  regardless  of  all  courtly  decorum,  she  cov- 
ered the  hand  of  Maria  Theresa  with  tears  and  kisses. 

A  sneer  was  perceptible  on  the  faces  of  the  courtiers,  and  the.  young 
Archduchesses  smiled  derisively  ;  but  Maria  Theresa,  whose  generous 
heart  beat  in  sympathetic  response  to  the  emotion  and  fright  of  the  poor 
young  stranger,  raised  her  kindly  up,  and  kissing  her  forehead,  encour- 
aged her  with  gracious  words. 

"  Be  welcome,  my  daughter,"  said  she  in  her  clear  and  silvery  voice. 
"  May  all  happiness  be  yours  through  life.  Come,  my  children,  let  us 
feastien  to  the  chapel." 


Kir^G  OF  HOME.  ■  125 

She  made  a  sign  to  her  husband,  and  took  the  arm  of  (he  King  of  Rome. 
The'Emperor  followed  with  the  Princess  Josepha,  and  now  through  the 
splendid  halls,  that  dazzled  the  eye  with  festive  magnificence,  .came  the 
long  train  of  courtiers  and  ladies  that  graced  the  pageant  of  this  ro)al 
bridal.  In  the  chapel,  before  the  altar,  stood  Cardinal  Megazzi,  surroun- 
ded by  priests  and  acolytes  all  arrayed  in  the  pomp  and  splendor  of  a 
solemn  Catholic  ceremony. 

The  Princess  had  not  been  wedded  by  proxy ;  it  was  therefore  neces- 
sary that  she  should  be  married  with  the  blessings  of  the  church,  before 
she  proceeded  in  state  to  the  throne-room  to  receive  the  homage  due  to 
her  as  a  queen.  No  time  had  therefore  been  given  her  to  retire  before 
the  ceremony,  and  she  was  married  in  her  travelling-dre>s.  At  the  en- 
trance of  the  chapel  stood  the  new  ladies  in  waiting  of  the  Queen  of  Rome. 
One  of  them  relieved  her  of  her  hat,  which  the  Empress  replaced  by  a 
wreath  of  myrtle.  Then  Maria  Theresa,  placing  the  hand  of  Josepha  in 
that  of  her  son,  the  imperial  cortege  af)proachcd  the  altar. 

As  they  stood  before  the  chancel,  the  King  of  Rome,  overcome  by  the 
bitterness  of  the  moment,  bowed  his  head  to  his  unfortunate  bride  and 
whispered,  "  Poor  Josepha,  I  pity  you." 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

THE  MARRIAGE  KIGHT. 

The  ceremonial  was  over.  The  Empress  herself  had  conducted  the 
young  Queen  of  Rome  to  her  apartments  ;  and  she  had  stood  by  her 
side,  while  her  tire-woman  exchanged  her  dress  of  golden  tissue,  for  a 
light  white  wf^^ee  of  finest  cambric  trimmed  with  costly  lace.  With 
her  own  hand,  Maria  Theresa  unfastened  the  myrtle  wreath  and  coronet 
of  diamonds  that  encircled  her  daughter-in-law's  brow.  She  then  kissed 
Josepha  affectionately,  and  bidding  her  good-night,  she.  besought  the 
blessing  of  God  upon  both  her  children. 

And  now  the  Princess  was  alone  in  this  vast  apartment.  On  one  side, 
under  a  canopy  of  blue  velvet  embroidered  with  gold,  was  the  state-bed 
of  the  Queen  of  Rome.  Close  by,  stood  the  toilet  of  gold  with  its  wil- 
derness of  jewels  and  eiuis,  all  the  gifts  of  the  Empress.  On  the  walls 
of  blue  velvet,  hurig  large  Venetian  mirrors,  filling  the  room  with  ima- 
ges of  that  gorgeous  bed  of  state.  In  the  centre,  on  a  marble  table, 
thirty  wax-lights  in  silver  candelabra,  illumined  the  splendor  of  the 
scene.  The  heavy  velvet  window-curtains  were  closed  ;  but  they  threw 
no  shadow,  for  the  Park  of  Schonbrunn  was  illuminated  by  Iwo-hundrcd 


126  JOSEPH  THE  SECOKD. 

thousand  lamps,  which  far  and  near  lit  up  the  Castle  on  this  festive  eve- 
ning, with  a  flood  of  fiery  splendor.* 

The  Queen  of  Rome  was  alone*^  her  bridesmaids  and  attendants  had 
left  her,  and  she  awaited  her  husband,  who  would  enter  her  room  through 
a  private  door  which,  close  to  the  bed  of  state,  led  to  his  own  apart- 
ments. 

With  beating  heart  and  in  feverish  suspense,  trembling  with  hope  and 
fear,  Josepha  paoeil  her  magnificent  room.  Heavy  sighs  broke  from  her 
bosom,  hot  tears  fell  from  her  eyes. 

"He  will  come,"  cried  she,  wringing  her  hands,  "he  will  come  and 
look  into  my  face  with  his  heavenly  blue  eyes,  and  I — I  will  cast  down 
iTiine  like  a  culprit,  and  dare  not  confide  my  secret  to  him.  Oh  God! 
Oh  God  !  I  hav^  sworn  to  conceal  my  infirmity,  for  it  is  not  contagious, 
it  will  harm  no  one — and  yet  my  heart  misgives  me  when  I  think  that — 
Oh  no !  no !  It  will  soon  be  over,  and  he  will  never  have  known  it. 
Were  he  told  of  it,  it  might  prejudice  him  against  me,  and  how  could  I 
bear  to  see  those  beauteous  eyes  turned  away  from  me  in  disgust!  I 
will  keep  my  secret,  and  after, — my  love  shall  atone  to  him  for  this  one 
breach  of  faith.  Oh,  my  God !  teach  mo  how  to  win  him  !  I  have  no- 
thing to  bring  to  this  splendid  court  save  the  gushing  fountains  of  my 
love  for  him — Oh,  my  lather,  why  have  I  nothing  but  this  to  offer — why 
have  I  neither  beauty  nor  grace  to  please  my  husban4's  eyes — for  I  love 
him,  oh,  I  love  him  already  more  than  my  life !" 

She  started,  for  she  heard  a  somid  near  the  side  door.  Now  the  key 
turned  in  the  lock,  and  in  another  moment  the  King  walked  in.  He  still 
wore  the  magnificent  Spanish  Court-dress  in  which  he  had  received  the 
homage  of  his  marriage-guests.  The  order  of  the  Golden  Fleece  was  on 
his  breast,  and  also  the  sparkling  diamond  cross  of  the  Imperial  house  of 
Hapsburg.  Josepha  blushing,  recalled  to  mind  her  night  negligee,  and 
dared  not  raise  her  eyes. 

For  awhile  they  stood  opposite  to  one  another,  Josepha  in  painful 
confusion ;  Joseph,  his  eyes  beiit  with  cold  scrutiny  upon  her  person. 
At  length  he  approached  and  touched  her  gently  on  the  arm. 

"  Why  do  you  trem"ble  so  ?"  asked  he  kindly.  "  Raise  your  head  and 
look  at  me."  , 

Slovcly  she  lifted  her  eyes,  and  looked  at  him  with  a  gaze  of  entreaty. 

"  Now,"  said  he,  with  a  bitter  smile,  "am  I  so  frightful  that  you  have 
reason  to  tremble  at  my  coming  ?" 

"I  did  not  tremble  from  fear  or. fright,"  said  she  in  a  voice  scarcely 
audible. 

"Ah,  you  have  no  confidence  in  me,"  said  he,  "you  wish  to  hide  your 
emotions  from  me.  And  yet,  madam,  let  me  tell  you  that  nothing  but 
mutual  and  perfecc  confidence  will  help  us  through  this  hour,  and  through 
life.  Come  then,  Josepha,  I  will  set  you  the  example.  I  will  confide  in 
you  without  reserve.  Give  me  your  band  and  let  us  sit  together  on 
yonder  divan." . 

*  Honnayer.     Rewiniscencee  of  Vicnua.    Vol.  5,  p.  81. 


KING  OF  ROME.  .    127 

She  placed  her  trembling;  hand  within  his,  and  he  led  her  to  the  sofa^ 
A  flood  of  deep  and  silent  joy  overwhelmed  her  heart,  as  alone  in  that 
royal  apartment,  which  was  hers,  she  sat  by  the  side  of  this  man  whom 
she  already  loved  with  passion.  « 

"First  madam,  let  me  ask  your  forgiveness  for  accepting  a  hand 
which  was<not  freely  bestowed  by  yourself,  but  was  placed  in  mine  by 
the  inexorable  policy  of  the  destiny  tliat  rules  kings.  In  obeying  the 
commands  of  your  brother  you  have  not  only  married  one  whoiii  you 
did  not  know,  but  perhaps  you  have  been  forced  to  stifle  other  wishes, 
other  inclinations." 

"No,"  cried  she  earnestly,  "no.  I  have  left  nothing  to  regret,  I  have 
made  no  sacrifice,  1 " 

"Yes,  you  have  sacrificed  your  freedom,  the  most  precious  boon  that 
Heaven  has  bestowed  man,  to  become  the  galley  slave  of  policy  and 
princely  station.     Poor  Josepha,  1  pity  you !" 

"Do  not  pity  me,"  said  Josepha,  tearfully,  "pity  yourself  whose  free- 
dom has  been  sacrificed  to  me.  You  have  j;iven  your  honored  hand  to 
a  woman  whom  you  do  not  love,  a  woman  who  would  be  too  hap- 
py " 

"  Had  she  the  power  th  free  herself  and  me  from  this  compulsory  union,' 
interrupted  Joseph.  "  1  believe  you,  for  I  read  in  your  countenance  that 
your  heart  is  good  and  noble,  and  gladly  would  contribute  to  the  happi- 
ness of  your  fellow  creatures.  But  we  must  both  bear  the  destiny  which 
the  hand  of  diplomacy  has  woven  for  us.  The  beads  that  wear  tho 
crowns,  must  also  wear  the  thorns.  But  we  w  ill  try  to  lighten  the  pain 
to  one  another.  You  have  become  my  wife  without  love,  and  I,  too, 
have  become  your  husband^ without  love." 

Josepha's  head  fell,  she  sighed,  and  murmured  somethir^  which  Jo- 
seph could  not  hear.  , 

He  went  on  :  "I  do  not  come  to  you  with  the  vain  pretensions  of  a 
man  who  fancies  he  has  won  an  honorable  woman's  heart,  because  the 
priest  has  bid  them  love  one  another.  I  will  not  take  advantage  of  the 
rights  which  either  diplomacy  or  church  have  given  me  over  you.  Here 
at  least  there  shall  be  no  dissimulation  ;  here  we  shall  both  be  privileged 
to  avow  honestly  and  honorably,  that  we  are  not  lovers.  Then  let  us 
be  friends.  I  come  to  you  in  ail  frankness,  offering  myself  to  be  to  you 
as  a  brother.  Perhaps  it  may  come  to  pass  that  1  win  your  love ;  per- 
chance your  goodness  and  your  worth  may  win  my  sad  heart  back  again 
to  life — the  day  may  come  when  we  shall  be  able  to  say  that  we  love 
one  another.  Let  us  await  this  day,  and  soften  the  interval  by  mutual 
confidence  and  trust.  And  should  it  ever  come  to  us  Josepha,  we  will 
then  seal  with  heartfelt  embrace  the  bond  which  the  church  has  made 
between  us  to-day.  Take  me,  then,  as  brother  and  friend,  and  be  to  me 
a  sister  and  companion.     Will  you  Josepha?" 

He  reached  out  his  hand,  and  looked  at  her  with  a  glance  of  brotherly 
kindness.  She  gave  him  hers  with  a  mournful  smile,  and  her  eyes  sought 
the  ground. 


128  JOSEPH  THE  SECOND 

*'  Welcome*,  then,  my  friend  and  sister," said  Joseph  warmly.  "Now 
for  unreserved  confidence.     You  promise  me  that,  do  you  not?" 

"  I  promise,"  gasped  the  poor  girl. 

— "  And  you  will  open  your  heart  that  I  may  read  its  every  page*?" 

"  I  will — I  promise  to  keep  nothing  from  you." 

— "  I  promise  the  same  to  you,  and  perhaps  this  plant  of  friendship 
may  one  day  bear  the  flowers  of  love.  You  are  iuexperienced  in  the 
ways  of  court-life.  You  will  need  a  pilot  to  steer  you  safe  amid  reefs 
and  breakers.  I  will  be  this  pilot  to  you,  I  will  teach  you  what  to  sus- 
pect and  what  to  avoid.  Above  all,  never  venture  to  have  an  opinion 
that  does  not  coincide  with  that  of  the  Empress.  We  are  all  a  pious 
and  well  brought-up  fiunily  who  see  with  her  eyes,  and  hear  with  her 
ears,  and  never  dare  confess  that  we  possess  sight  or  hearing  in  our  own 
persons.  Recollect  that  you,  too,  must  fall  in  the  line  of  puppets,  and 
give  up  your  senses  to  the  Empress." 

"  But  in  the  depths  of  my  own  heart,  I  trust  that  I  may  see  with  the 
eyes  of  the  King  of  Rome,"  replied  Josepha  with  a  smile.  "  For  if  I  am 
to  learn  from  you  I  must  surely  dare  to  use  my  senses." 

"  Yes ;  but  let  no  one  suspect  that  you  learn  anything  from  me.  In  this 
court,  we  tread  on  flowers  ;  and  if  one  of  our  flowers  chances  to  wither, 
we  cover  it  over  with  a  pater  nosier,  and  that  makes  all  right  again." 

*'  But  suppose  it  will  not  be  made  right,"  returned  Josepha.  "Sup- 
pose  that  prayer  should  fail  ?" 

"  Gracious  heaven,  what  do  I  hear !"  cried  Joseph.  "  What  profane 
doubt  are  you  so  bold  as  to  utter !  You  do  not  belong  to  the  stupid, 
pious  band,  who  think  that  prayer  cures  all  woes?  Poor  Josepha,  let 
no  one  but  me  hear  such  heresy  from  your  lips — Pray,  pray  ;  or  make 
believe  to  pi-ay  ;  no  one  will  ever  ask  you  whether  your  heart  is  in  it 
or  not.  And  if  any  one  seek  to  know,  answer  nothing.  Pray  on,  and 
mistrust  every  one." 

"What!  Mistrust  the  generous  friend  whom  kind  Providence  has 
given  to  me  this  day  !"  cried  Josepha  with  feeling.  "That  I  can  never 
do.  You  have  encouraged  me  to  confide  in  you,  and  even  had  you  not 
done  so,  you  would  have  won  my  confidence,  unsought." 

"  I  am  glad  that  you  think  so,"  returned  Joseph.  "  Let  us  begin  at 
once  then.  Have  you  a  wish  that  I  have  it  in  my  power  to  gratify  ? 
Or  have  you  anything  in  your  heart  which  you  will  confide  to  me  as  a 
proof  of  your  faith  in  my  friendship  ?" 

Josepha  started,  and  her  cheeks  grew  white  with  fear.  This  question 
awakened  her  from  her  short  dream  of  hope  and  happiness,  and  she  re- 
membered that  she  had  a  secret  which  it  was  her  duty  to  reveal  to  her 
husband.  She  looked  furtively  at  him.  Perhaps  he  had  heard  some- 
thing, and  this  was  a  trial  of  her  truth  !  But  no!  His  face  was  tran- 
quil and  unsuspecting  ;  there  was  nothing  searching  in  the  glance  of  his 
deep  blue  eyes. 

No  !  he  knew  nothing,  and  wherefore  cloud  the  brightness  of  the  hour 
with  a  confeesion  which  might  crush  its  promise  of  future  bliss ! 


KING  UF  POME.  129 

"  Well,"  said  Joseph  kindly.  "  Is  there  nothing  on  your  heart  that 
you  would  confide  to  your  friend  ?" 

"  No,"  at  last  said  Josepha,  resolutely.  "  My  life  has  been  dull  and 
uneventful.  It  is  only  to^ay  that  I  begin  to  live;  the  sun  of  hope  is 
dawning  upon  my  heart ;  I  feel  as  if  I  might " 

"  Hark !"  said  Joseph,  "  I  think  I  hear  some  one  coming.  Yes ;  there 
is  surely  a  light  tap  at  the  dooi-." 

The  King  rose  hastily  and  crossed  the  room  towards  the  little  side- 
door. 

"Is  any  one  there?"  asked  he  in  a  loud  tone  of  displeasure. 

''  Yes,  your  Majesty,"  whispered  a  trembling  voice,  '•  and  I  pray  vou 
earnestly  to  open  the  door." 

♦'It  is  my  valet,  Anselmo,"  said  Joseph  to  the  Princess,  while  he 
withdrew  the  bolt. 

It  was  Anselmo,  in  truth,  who,  with  mysterious  mien,  beckoned  to  his 
lord  to  come  out. 

"Will  your  Majesty  condescend  to  step  mto  the  corridor,  that  I  may 
deliver  the  message  with  which  1  am  entrusted  ?"  said  the  valet. 

— "Is  it  so  weighty,  Anselmo,  that  it  cannot  lie  upon  your  conscience 
until  morning'?" 

— "  Not  one  moment  can  I  defer  it,  your  Majesty,  for  I  was  told  that 
your  Majesty's  well-being  and  health  depended  upon  my  speed." 

The  King  stepped  outside  and  closed  the  door.  "  Who  sent  you  hith- 
er, Anselmo?"  asked  he.  • 

— "I  do  not  know,  sire,  but  I  suspect.  It  was  a  female  form  envel- 
oped in  a  long  black  cloak  with  a  hood,  which  concealed  her  face.  She' 
came  from  the  gallery  which  leads  to  the  apartments  of  their  imperial 
highnesses,  your  Majesty's  sisters,  and  entered  your  Majesty's  own 
cabinet,  which  I  had  left  open  while  I  was  lighting  your  Majesty 
hither." 

"And  what  said  she  ?"  asked  the  King  impatiently. 

— "She  asked  if  your  Majesty  had  gone  into  the  Queen's  apart- 
ments. When  I  told  her  that  you  had,  she  held  out  this  note  and 
said,  '  speed  to  the  King,  and  as  you  value  his  health  and  welfare,  give 
him  this  note  at  once.'  She  disappeared,  and  here,  your  Majesty,  is  the 
note."^ 

The  King  took  the  paper,  which  by  the  dim  light  of  the  corridor  he 
could  not  read. 

"And  who  do  you  think  is  the  mysterious  lady,  Anselmo?"  asked  he. 

— "  Sire,  I  do  not  know.  Perhaps  your  Majesty  will  recognise  the 
handwriting." 

"  I  wish  to  know,  Anselino,  who  you  think  was  hidden  under  that 
cloak?" 

— "Well  then,  j^our  Majesty,"  said  Anselmo,  in  a  whisper  scarcely- 
audible,  "  I  think  it  was  the  Archduchess  Christine." 

"  I  suspected  as  much,"  said  the  King  to  himself.  "  It  is  some  intrigue 
of  hers  against  the  Princess  Josepha,  whom  she  hates  because  I  selected 


130  JOSEPH  THE  SECOi^D. 

her  in  preference  to  the  sister  of  airistine's  lover,  the  Elector  of  Sax- 
ony."* 

Ansel  mo  perhaps  imderstcoi  a  few  words  ofithis  soliloquy,  for  he  con- 
tinued, "A  courier  arrived  from  Saxony,  and  I  was  told  by  my  sister, 
the  tire-woman  of  her  Highness,  that  the  Archduchess  Christine  had  re- 
ceived a  packet  of  letters." 

"  Very  well,  Anselnio,"  said  the  Kuig.  "  If  to-morrow  you  should  ha 
asked  whether  you  delivered  the  note,  say  that  I  tore  it  up  without  open- 
ing it.     Do  you  hear"?" 

Dismissing  the  valet  with  a  wave  of  the  hand,  he  returned  to  the 
Princess. 

— "  Pardon  me,"  said  he,  "  for  leaving  you,  and  allow  me  in  your 
presence  to  read  a  note  which  has  just  been  mysteriously  delivered  into 
my  hands,  I  wish  to  give  you  a  proof  of  my  confidence,  by  entrusting 
you  at  once  with  my  secrets." 

So  saying,  he  approached  the  marble  centre-table,  and  opened  the  let- 
ter. 

What  was  It  that  blanched  Josepha's  cheek  and  made  her  tremble,  as 
Joseph  smiled  and  looked  at  her?  Why  did  she  stare  at  him  while  he 
read,  and  why  did  her  heart  stand  still  with  fright,  as  she  saw  his  expres- 
sion change.  ' 

He  seemed  shocked  at  the  contents  of  the  note,  and  when  hay  raised 
his  eyes  and  their  g«|dnce  met  that  of  Josepha,  she  saw  them  filfed  with 
aversion  and  scorn. 

"  Madam,"  said  he,  and  his  voice  had  grown  harsh,  "  Madam,  I  asked 
you  in  good  faith  whether  you  had  anything  to  confide  to  m}'-  honor.  I 
expressed  a, desire  to  win  your  confidence.  You  answered  that  you  had 
nothing  to  tell.  Once  more  I  ask  have  you  anything  to  say.  The  more 
humiliating  the  confession,  the  more  will  I  appreciate  your  candor. 
Speak  therefore." 

Josepha  answered  not  a  word.  Her  teeth  chattered  so  painfully  that 
she  could  not  articulate ;  she  trembled  so  violently  that  she  had  to  grasp 
the  back  of  an  arm-chair  for  support. 

Joseph  saw  this,  and  he  laughed  a  hoarse  and  contemptuous  laugh. 
She  did  not  ask  hini  why  he  sneered.  She  threw  herself  at  his  feet,  and 
raised  her  arms  imploringly. 

"  Mercy,"  cried  the  unhappy  woman,  "  mercy  ?" 

He  laughed  again,  and  heW  the  paper  before  her  eyes. 

"  Read,  madam,  read,"  said  he  rudely. 

"  I  cannot,"  sobbed  she.  "  I  will  not  read  what  has  been  written  of 
me.  I  will  tell  you  myself  all  that  I  know.  I  will  confide  my  secret  to 
you,  I  will  indeed." 

"  You  have  nothing  to  confide,  madam,"  cried  Joseph.     "With  a  sin- 

*The  Prinoesi  Christine  was  in  lore  with  the  Elector  of  Saxony;  but  the  Emperor  Francis  was 
opposed  to  the  marriage.  Christine  used  all  her  influence  to  bring  about  a  marriage  between  her 
brother  and  Mary  Konigunde,  the  sister  of  her  lover,  hoping  thereby  to  pave  the  way  for  her  owa 
union  with  tbe  handsome  Alberts  failing  in  this,  &he  became  tii«  bit.t«r  tiiemy  of  tb«  unb&ppx  wo- 
naac  to  whcmi  Jossph  htd  glrwi  tb<»  pr^farencc. 


riNG  OF  ROME.  131  , 

oe.re  and  holy  desire  to  perform  my  duty,  I  acked  for  your  friendship 
and  your  confidence.  I  cast  them  both  back,  for  you  have  allowed  the 
hour  of  trust  to  go  by  !  Now  it  is  too  late  !  You  are  accused.  Do  not 
look  tome  for  protection  ;  vindicate  yourself  if  you  can.  Read  this  let- 
ter, and  tell  me  if  the  writer  speaks  the  truth."  " 

Josephs  still  knelt  at  his  feet);  but  her  arms  had  fallen  in  despair. 
She  knew  that  she  had  nothing  more  to  hope  from  her  husband  ;  she  felt 
that  she  was  about  to  be  sentenced  to  a  life  of  utter  misery. 

"Y^u  will  not  read,"  said  Josepli,  as,  unnoticed,  Josepha  lay  at  his 
feet.  "If  so,  I  must  read  the  letter  for  you,  myself.  It  warns  me  not 
to  come  too  near  to  your  royal  person — It '' 

"I  will  spare  you,  si|^,"  exclaimed  she,  as  with  the  energy  of  despair, 
she  roseto  her  feet.  "  lou  will  not  let  me  speak,  you  shall  see  for 
yourself!" 

With  a  frantic  gesture,  she  tore  her  dress  from  her  neck  and  shoulders, 
and  heedless  that  she  stood  with  arms  and  bosom  exposed,  she  let  it  fall 
to  the  floor,  and  bowed  her  head  as  iCto  receive  the  stroke  of  the  heads- 
man's axe. 

"  Knovv  my  secret,"  said  she,  as  she  folded  her  hands  and  stood  be- 
fore her  outraged  husband.  "  And  now  hear  mo.  A  few  months  ago, 
I  had  a  beloved  brother,  whofn  I  loved  the  more  that  he  was  unfortun- 
ate and  afflicted.  From  his  childhood  he  had  suflered  from  a  malady 
which  his  physicians  called  leprosy.  The  very  servants  deserted  hirn, 
for  it  was  said  that  the  disease  was  contagious.  I  loved  my  brother 
■with  devotion ;  I  went  to  him,  and  nursed  him  until  he  died.  God 
shielded  me,  for  I  did  not  take  the  malady.  But  on  my  neck  and  back 
there  came  dark  spots  which,  although  they  are  [painful,  are  not  conta- 
gious. My  physicians  told  me  that  my  strong  constitution  had  rejected 
the  leprosy,  and  these  spots  were  a  regeneration  of  my  skin,  which 
■would  soon  disappear.  This  sire,  is  my  fatal  secret,  and  now — ^judgo 
me.  It  is  in  your  power  to  make  me  the  happiest  of  mortals  by  grant- 
ing me  a  generous  pardon  :  but  I  will  not  complain  if  you  condemn  and 
d^pisc  me."  . 

"Complain  if  you  choose,  it  is  indifferent  to  me,"  cried  Joseph  with  a 
hoarse  laugh.  "  Never  in  this  world  shall  3'ou  be  my  wife.  If  the  hate- 
ful lie  that  binds  me  to  you  cannot  be  unloosed,  I  will  make  you  an- 
swerable for  every  day  of  disgust  and  misery  that  I  am  forced  to  pass 
under  the  same  roof  with  you.  If  I  am  cursed  before  the  world  with  the 
name  of  your  husband,  I  will  punish  you  in  secret  with  mjn everlasting 
hate." 

As  if  stricken  by  lightning,  she  fell  to  the  floor.  Her  fallen  dress  ex- 
posed to  view  her  beautiful  form.  Her  arms,  which  were  folded  above 
^er  head,  were  round  and  white  as  these  of  a  Greek  statue;  and  as  she 
lay  with  her  full,  graceful  shoulders  bared  almost  to  the  waist,  she  look- 
ed like  Niobe  just  stricken  by  the  wrath  of  a  god. 

Joseph  was  unmindful  of  this.  He  had  no  sympathy  with  the  noble 
sftcrifice  which  her  loving  heart  had  offered  to  a  dying  brother.     Ho  saw 


'  ;>2  JOSEPH  THE  SECOND. 

neither  her  youth  nor  her  grace;  he  saw  only  those  dark  spots  upon  her 
back,  and  he  shuddered  as  "she  raised  her  arm  to  clasp  his  feet. 

-  "  Do  not  touch  me,"  exclaimed  he,  starting  back.  "  Your  touch  is 
pollution.  We  are  forever  divorced.  To-day  the  priest  joined  our  hands 
together,  but  to-night  I  part  them  never  more  to  meet.     Farewell." 

And  hurling  at  her  prostrate  form  the  letter  which  had  betrayed  her, 
he  turned  and  left  the  room. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

AN    UNHAPPY   MARRIAGE. 

It  was  the  morning  after  the  wedding.  Maria  Theresa  had  just  com- 
pleted her  toilet,  and  was  smiling  at  her  own  beautiful  image  reflected 
in  the  looking  glass.  She  looked  every  inch  an  Empress  in  her  rich 
crimson' velvet  dress,  with  its  long  and  graceful  train,  and  its  border  of 
ermine.  Her  superb  blond  hair  had  been  exquisitely  dressed  by  her  lit- 
tle favorite,  Charlotte  Von  Hieronymus.  It  was  sprinkled  with  gold 
powder,  and  the  coiffure  was  heightened  by  a  little  cap  of  crimson  vel- 
vet, attached  to  the  hair  by  arrows  of  gold  set  with  costly  brilliants. 
The  complexion  of  the  Empress  was  so  lovely  that  she  n?ver  wore  rouge; 
aad  surely  such  eyes  as  hers  needed  none  of  the  "adulterers  of  art"  to 
heighten  their  brilliancy  or  beauty.  Although  she  was  in  her  forty-ninth 
year,  and  had  given  birth  to  sixteen  children,  Maria  Theresa  was  still 
beautiful ;  not  only  youthful  in  appearance  but  youthful  in  heart,  and  in 
the  strength  and  greatness  of  her  intellect.  She  loved  the  Emperor  as 
fondly  as  she  had  done  twenty-eight  years  before,  and  each  of  her  ten 
living  children  was  as  dear  to  her  maternal  heart  as  if  each  had  been  aa 
only  child. 

To-day  she  had  arrayed  herself  with  unusual  magnificence,  to  celebrate 
the  entry  of  the  newly  married  couple  into  Vienna.  The  imperial  cor- 
tege was  to  stop  at  the  Cathedral  of  St.  Stephen's,  there  to  witness  the 
bridals  of  twenty- five  young  couples,  all  of  whom  the  Empress  had  dow- 
ered in  honor  of  her  son's  second  marriage. 

"  Surely  the  prayers  of  these  fifty  lovers  will  bring  happiness  upon 
the  heads  of  my  son  and  his  wife,"  said  the  Empress  to  herself.  "  They 
need  prayers  indeed,  for  poor  josepha  is  very  unlike  our  peerless  Isa- 
bella, and  I  fear  she  will  not  be  attractive  enough  to  cause  the  dead  to 
be  forgotten.  Still,  she  seems  mild  and  kind-hearted,  and  I  have  already 
read  in  her  eyes  that  she  is  in  love  with  Joseph.  I  hope  this  will  lead 
him  to  love  her  in  return.  Sometimes  a  man  will  love  a  woman  through 
pity,  afterwards  through  habit." 


KING  OF  KOMt.  IXi 

A  nervous  and  impatient  knock  at  her  door,  interrupted  the  current  of 
the  Empress's  thoughts  ;  the  door  was  flung  open  without  further  cere- 
mony and  the  King  of  Kome  entered  the  room.  He  was  pale  and  agi- 
tated, and  to  his  mother's  afTectionatc  welcome  he  replied  by  a  deep  in- 
clination of  the  head. 

The  Empress  perceived  at  once  that  something  was  wrong,  and  her 
heart  beat  rapidly.  "  My  dear  boy,"  said  she,  "  you  do  not  wear  a  ho- 
liday face,  and  your  young  bride " 

"  I  have  no  bride,"  interrupted  Joseph  angrily.  "  I  have  come  to  beg 
of  your  Majesty 'to  discontinue  these  rejoicings,  or  at  least  to  excuse  07ie 
from  appearing  in  public  at  the  side  of  the  Princess  of  Bavaria.  She  is 
not  my  wife,  nor  ever  shall  be  !" 

"What  means  thisT'  stammered  the  Empress,  bewildered. 

"It  means  that  my  marriage  is  null  and  void;  and  that  no  hu- 
man power  shall  force  me  to  be  husband  of  a  creature  tainted  with 
leprosy." 

The  Empress  uttered  a  cry  of  horror.  "  My  son,  my  son,"  exclaimed 
she,  "  what  unheard-of  charge  is  this  ?" 

— "  A  charge  which  is  a  miserable  truth,  your  Majesty.  Do  you  not 
remember  to  have  heard  that  the  natural  son  of  Carl  of  Bavaria  had  died 
not  long  ago  of  leprosy  which  he  had  contracted  during  a  journey  to  the 
East  1  Well,  his  tender  and  self-sacrificing  half  sister  volunteered  to  nurse 
him,  and  was  with  him  until  he  died.  Your  Majesty,  no  doubt,  will 
look  upon  this  as  something  very  fine  and  christiau-like.  I,  on  the  con- 
trary, would  have  found  it  at  least  more  honorable  if  the  Princess  had 
advised  us  of  the  legacy  she  wears  upon  her  back." 

"  Woe  to  her  and  to  the  house  of  Bavaria,"  cried  the  Empress  indig- 
nantly. "  if  you  speak  the  truth,  my  son  !" 

—"  If  your  Majesty  will  send  Van  Swieten  to  her,  you  may  convince 
yourself  of  the  fact." 

A  few  moments  later,  Van  Swieten  entered  the  room.  His  fame  was 
European  ;  he  was  well  known  as  a  man  of  great  skill  and  science ;  ad- 
ded to  this,  his  noble  frankness  and  high  moral  worth  had  greatly  en- 
deared him  to  the  imperial  family.  Maria  Theresa  went  hastily  forward 
to  meet  him. 

"  Van  Swieten,"  said  she,  with  a  voice  trembling  from  agitation,  "you 
have  been  our  friend  in  many  an  hour  of  sorrow,  and  many  a  secret  of 
the  house  of  Hapsburg  has  been  faithfully  buried  in  your  loyal  heart. 
Help  me  again,  and  above  all  let  it  be  in  secresy.  The  King  of  Rome 
says  fearful  things  of  his  wife.  I^will  not  believe  them  until  I  hear  your 
verdict.  Go  at  once,  I  implore  you,  to  the  Princess,  and  command  her, 
in  my  name,  to  declare  her  malady." 

— " But,  your  Majesty,  she  has  not  called  for  my  advice,"  replied 
Van  Swieten  with  surprise. 

" Then  she  must  take  it  unasked,"  said  the  Empress.  "The Princess 
will  receive  you,  and  you  will  know  how  to  win  her  to  reveal  her  con» 
dition.     As  soon  as  you  leave  her,  return  to  me," 


i34  JOSSFH  I'Hi;  SECOI'iD. 

Van  Swieteu  bovvcd  and  left  the  room  :  the  Empress  and  her  sou  re. 
msiined  together.  Neither  spoke  a  v/ord.  The  King  of  Kome  stood  iu 
the  embrasure  of  a  Aviudow,  looking  sullenly  up  at  the  sky.  The  Em- 
press walked  hurriedly  to  and  tVo,  careless  that  her  violent  motions  were 
rilling  her  dress  with  the  gold  povder  that  fell  from  her  head  like  little 
showers  of  stara. 

"  Christina  was  right  to  vrarn  me,"  said  she,  after  a  long  pause.  "  I 
should  never  have  consented  to  thia  alliance  veith  the  daughter  of  ray 
enemy.  It  is  of  no  use  to  patch  up  old  enmities.  Carl  was  humbled 
and  defeated  by  me,  and  now  comes  this  Josepha  to  revenge  her  father's 
iosses  and  to  bring  sorrovs'  to  my  child.  Oh,  my  son,  why  did  you  not 
follow  my  counsel, 'and  marry  the  Princess  of  Saxony  !  But  it  is  use- 
less to  reproaeii  you.  The  evil  is  done ;  let  us  consult  together  how 
best  we  may  bear  it."* 

"  Not  at  all,"  cried  Joseph.  "  We  must  consult  how  we  may  soonest 
cast  it  away  from  us.  Your  Majesty  will  never  require  of  me  the  sacri- 
jice  of  remaining  bound  to  that  woman.  I  obeyed  your  behest,  and  in 
spite  of  my  dismclination  to  a  second  marriage,  I  bent  my  will  before 
the  necessities  of  diplomacy  and  the  command  of  my  Sovereign.  But 
we  are  now  on  a  ground,  where  the  duty  of  a  subject  ends,  and  the  honor 
of  a  man  stands  pre-eminent.  I  never  will  consent  to  be  the  husband 
of  this  woman  whose  person  is  disgusting  to  me.  Ear  above  all  claims 
of  political  expediency,  I  hold  my  rights  as  a  man." 

"  And  you  hold  them  with  unbecoming  language,"  replied  the  Em- 
yiress,  who  did  not  at  all  relish  the  tone  of  the  King  of  Rome.  "And 
let  me  tell  you,  my  royal  son,  that  an  upright  and  honorable  prince 
thinks  less  of  his  rights  as  a  man  than  of  his  duties  as  a  ruler ;  he  strives 
while  a  prince  to  be  a  man ;  and  while  a  man  to  sacrifice  his  inclinations 
to  the  calls  of  a  princely  station." 

"  But  not  his  personal  honor,"  cried  Joseph.  "  Your  Majesty's  code 
is  that  of  Machiavelli,  who  counsels  a  prince  never  to  let  his  feelings  as 
a  man  interfere  with  his  policy  as  a  ruler." 

The  Empress  was  about  to  make  an  angry  rejoinder  to  this  remark, 
when  the  door  opened  and  Van  Swieten  re-appeared. 

"  Ah  !"  said  the  Empress,  "  did  you  see  her,  Van  Swieten  ?" 

"Yes,  your  Majesty,"  replied  Van  Swieten  with  emphasis,  "I  have 
seen  the  Queen  of  Rome." 

"  Do  you  mean  ro  say  that  she  has  no  disease  that  unfits  her  to  be  the 
wife  of  the  King  of  Rome  1"  asked  Maria  Theresa. 

"Her  only  malady  is  a  cutaneous  one,  which  in  a  short  time  will  be 
completely  cured.  Some  persons  are  so  happily  organized  that  they 
throw  off  disease,  even  when  in  contact  with  it.  The  Princess  possesses 
this  sound  and  healthy  organization.  The  poison  which  she  inhaled  by 
her  brother's  bedside  has  settled  upon  her  skin  in  a  harmless  eruption ; 
her  constitution  is  untouched.  In  a  few  weeks  all  trace  of  it  will  disap- 
pear, and  nothing  will  remain  to  remind'  us  of  her  noble  disregard  of 
?elf,  save  th&  memory  of  her  heroism  apd  magnanimity.    Eor  indeed, 


your  Majesty,  it  is  easier  to  confroiit  death  on  the  bsttle-fieJd  than  to 
face  it  in  the  pestiferous  atmosphere  of  a  sick-room." 

Maria  Theresa  turned  with  a  radiant  smile  towards  her  son.  *' You 
see,  my  son,"  said  she,  "  that  you  have  dene  injustice  to  your  noble 
wifc.     Go,  then,  and  entreat  her  forgiveness." 

*'  No,  your  Arfljcsty,"  -said  a  soft  voice  behind  them,  "  it  is  for  me  to 
implore  my  husband's  forgiveness." 

The  Empress  turned  and  behold  her  daughter-in-law,  splendiJly  attir- 
ed, but  pale  and  wan  with  unmistakable  grief." 

"  Josepha,  how  came  you  hither?"  asked  she. 

"  1  followed  llerr  Van  Swietcn,"  replied  Josephs.  "  He  told  me  that 
your  Majesty  and  the  King  of  Kome  were,  here,  awaiting  his  verdict, 
and  I  judged  from  his  manner  that  it  would  be  in  my  favor.  Therefore 
I  came,  and  having  hcai'd  his  fiattering  words,  which  I  do  not  deserve,  1 
am  here  to  inculpate  myself.  No,  Herr  Van  Swieton,  if  there  were  any 
merit  in  suffering  for  a  brother  whom  I  dearly  loved,  it  would  all  be  ef- 
faced by  the  wrong  which  I  have  done  to  the  King  of  Rome.  I  feel  that 
I  was  guilty  in  not  confiding  my  malady  to  your  Majesty,  and  1 
bow  my  head  before  the  justice  of  my  punishment,  severe  though  it 
may  be." 

"  It  shall  not  be  severe,  my  daughter,"  said  the  Empress,  whose  kind 
heart  was  completely  overcome  by  Josepha's  humility,  "  I  for  my  part 
forgive  you  ;  jo\i  are  already  sufficiently  punished." 

"  I  thank  your  Majesty,"  returned  Josepha,  kissing  her  outstretched 
hand.  "  It  is  easy  for  one  so  magnanimous,  to  pardon  the  guilty  ;  but 
my  husband,  will  he  also  forgive  me?" 

She  turned  her  pale  and  imploring  face  towards  Joseph,  who,  withhia 
arms  crossed,  looked  scornfully  back. 

"  No,"  said  she  sa^ly,  "  No.  'To  obtain  his  forgiveness,  I  must  make 
a  full  confession  of  my  fault." 

She  approached  the  window,  but  her  head  was  cast  down  so  that  she 
did  not  see  with  what  a  look  of  hate  Joseph  beheld  her  advancing  to- 
wards him. 

"  To  obtain  your  pardon,  sire,"  said  she,  "  I  myst  say  why  I  deceived 
you.  It  was  because  I  preferred  perjury  to  the  loss  of  my  earthly  hap- 
piness— the  unspeakable  happiness  of  being  your  wife.  I  was  afraid  of 
losing  my  treasure.  For  1  love  you  beyond  all  power  of  expression  ; 
from  the  first  moment  of  our  meeting,  I  have  loved  you,  and  this  love 
which,  thanks  to  Almighty  God,  I  have  a  right  to  avow  before  the  wo/-ld 
— this  love  it  was  that  misled  me.  Oh,  my  husband,  ha^e  mercy,  and 
forgive  the  fault  that  was  born  of  my  excessive  love  for  you.  A  whole 
life  of  love  and  obedience  shall  atone  for  my  sin.  Forgive  me,  forgive 
me  for  the  sake  of  my  love !'' 

And  overwhelmed  by  her  grief,  the  Princess  knelt  at  the  feet  of  her 
husband,  and  raised  her  hands  in  supplication  for  pardon. 

The  Empress  looked  on  wirh  sympathetic  heart  and  tearful  eyes  ;  she 
expected  at  every  moment  to  se«j  Joseph  raise  up  his  wife,  and  presi* 


13G  JOSEPH  THE  SECOND 

her  to  his  heart  for  her  touching  avowal  of  love.  She  expected  to  hear 
him  implore  forgiveness;  but  she  was  sadly  mistaken. 

Joseph  stood  immovable,  his  eyes  flashing  scorn  and  fury  at  the  kneel- 
ing  Princess  before  him. 

This  outraged  all  the  pride  of  Maria  Theresa's  womanhood.  Hastily 
approaching  Josepha,  and  stretching  her  arms  towards  her,  she  said,  "  If 
Joh^epii  iias  no  mercy  in  his  obdurate  heart,  I  at  least  will  not  witness 
such  hnmiljation  on  the  part  of  his  wife.  Rise,  my  daughter,  and  take 
shelter  under  my  love ;  1  will  not  suffer  you  to  be  oppressed — not  even 
by  my  own  son." 

She  would  have  raised  Josepha,  but  the  poor  girl  waved  her  gently 
bacK.  "  No,  dear  lady,"  said  she  sobbing,  "  let  me  remain  until  he  for- 
gives me." 

"  Let  her  remain,  your  Majesty,"  cried  Joseph  with  a  burst  of  wrath, 
"  she  is  in  her  proper  place.  But  if  she  means  to  kneel  until  she  has 
obtained  my  forgiveness,  let  her  kneel  throughout  all  eternity,  i  con- 
sented to  this  marriage  for  e.xpediency's  sake,  and  I  would  have  done 
my  best  to  make  the  burthen  as  light  for  us  both  as  lay  in  my  power. 
Your  Majesty  knows  how  she  has  deceived  me  ;  you  have  heard  her  pit- 
iful lie  with  its  pitiful  excuse.  I  might  have  forgiven  her  for  marrying 
me,  with  her  disgusting  disease,  but  for  being  a  liar — never  !" 

"  Enough,"  cried  the  Empress,  as  much  excited  by  her  sou's  obduracy 
as  by  Josepha's  touching  confession.  "  This  scene  must  end,  and  so  help 
me  God,  it  shall  never  be  enacted  a  second  time !  You  are  bound  to 
one  another  ibr  life,  and  together  you  shall  remain.  Each  mortal  has 
his  weight  of  grief  to  bear.  Bear  yours  in  silence,  and  bear  it  as  be- 
comes your  dignity  and  station.  Have  the  manliness  to  smile  before 
the  world,  my  son,  as  beseems  a  prince  who  has  more  regard  for  his 
princely  duties  than  for  his  rights  as  a  man  to  happiness." 

And  with  that  imposing  grandeur  which  Maria  Theresa  knew  so  well 
how  to  assume,  she  continued :  •'  Rise,  Queen  of  Rome,  and  never  again 
forget'either  your  own  royal  station,  or  the  dignity  of  your  womanhood. 
Oive  her  your  hand,  my  son,  if  j'^ou  will  not  love,  you  must  at  least  ho- 
nor  and  respect  your  wife.  The  bells  of  Vienna  even  now  are  pealing 
your  welcome  ;  the  people  await  their  Sovereigns,  and  it  does  not  be- 
come us  to  keep  them  in  suspense  on  such  an  occasion  as  this." 

Without  looking  back  to  see  the  effect  of  her  words,  the  Empress  left 
the  room,  and  called  to  her  pages  to  fling  wide  the  palace-doors. 

"  Apprize  the  court  that  we  are  ready  to  move,"  said  she  in  a  com- 
manding voice,  "and  let  the  carriages  approach." 

The  pages  threw  open  the  wide-doors  •,  the  Emperor  and  the  Arch- 
duchesses entered,  and  following  them  came  the  courtiers  and  ladies  of 
the  imperial  household  in  all  the  splendor  of  flashing  jewels  and  costly 
robes. 

The  Empress  advanced  to  meet  them  with  unruffled  serenity.  Not 
once  were  hej  eyes  cast  behind  towards  the  unhappy  couple,  whom  she 
knew  perfectly  well  had  yielded  to  the  force  of  circumstances,  and  were 


Ki.N*..  «jJr   KOMK  j  37 

already  throwing  the  veil  of  etiquette  and  courtly  decorum  over  their 
bleeding  hearts. 

An  hour  later,  the  imperial  family  made  its  entry  into  Vienna.  In 
her  gilded  state-carriage  sat  the  proud  and  beautiful  Empress,  and  at  hef 
side  was  the  pale  Queen  of  Rome.  On  either  side  of  the  carriage  rode 
the  two  husbands,  the  Emperor  Francis  of  Lorfaine  and  the  King  of 
Kome.  The  people  once  more  shouted  for  joy,  wishing  long  life  to  the 
imperial  pair,  and  joy  to  the  newly-married  couple.  From  one  side  to 
another,  the  Empress  and  the  Queen  bowed  and  smiled  to  all,  while  the 
King  of  Rome  thanked  the  enraptuied  Viennese  for  their  welcome,  .On 
this  day  appeared  a  new  color  in  Vienna,  so  called  in  honor  of*  Joseph's 
deep  blue  eyes;  it  was  called  "imperial  blue." 

And  the  bells  chimed,  the  cannon  roared  ;  while  in  the  Cathedral  the 
fifty  lovers  awaited  the  King  and  Queen  of  Rome,  whose  marriage  filled 
all  hearts  with  joy,  and  seemed  to  realize  every  dream  of  happiness  oa 
earth ! 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

A  statesman's  H0UR€  OF  DALLIANCK. 

"  Are  there  many  people  in  the  ante-room  ?"  asked  Prince  Kaunitz  of 
the  States-Referendarius,  Baron  Binder. 

"Yes,  your  Highness,"  returned  Binder,  "all  waiting  impatiently  for 
your  appearance." 

"  Let  them  wait,  the  stupid  strutting  representatives  of  littleness  I 
The  more  insignificant  the  petty  masters,  the  more  conceited  are  the 
petty  ambassadors.  I  have  no  time  to  see  them  to-day.  We  are  at 
peace  with  the  whole  world,  and  our  only  diplomacy  regards  marrying, 
and  giving  in  marriage." 

"  So  far  you  have  nothing  to  boast  of  in  that  line,"  said  Binder,  laugh-  • 
ing.     "Thei-e  are  all  sorts  of  stories  afloat  about  the  unhappy  marriage 
of  the  King  of  Rome.     Some  go  so  far  as  to  say  that  he  shows  his  dis- 
like in  public." 

— "  Bah  !  what  matters  it  whether  a  prince  is  a  happy  husband  or 
not?  When  a  king  sets  up  pretensions  to  conjugal  felicity,  he  is  either 
an  egotist  or  a  fool.  .If  the  King  of  Rome  cannot  love  his  good,  stupid, 
ugly  wife,  he  can  least  make  love  to  the  dowry,  she  brings  him.  A 
goodly  inheritance  comes  with  her,  what  matters  it,  if  a  woman  be  thrown 
in  the  bargain  ?"  • 

— "Ah,  Prince,  a  woman  is  sometimes  harder  to  conquer  than  a  pro. 


# 

vinre,  nnd  I  think  the  Kinj;  of  Uorae  would  much  rather  have  won  hi» 
Bavaria  uilh  the  sword." 

"  Hecaiise  he  is  a  blockhead  full  of  sublime  uonsensp,  who  mistakes 
his  love  of  novelty  for  wisdom.  IIo  would  rather  break  his  head  against 
.1  wall,  this  obstinate  King  of  Koine,  while  I  crept  kifely  through  a 
)i:ouse-hole.  Walls  are  not  so  easily  battered  down  as  he  supposes,  but 
mouse-holes  abound  every  where,  a>  this  sapient  Kina[will  find  out  some 
of  these  days.  Jt  was  much  easier  f  jr  us  tojcrcep  into  I^avaiia  with  the 
help  of  the  lovely  Josepha,  than  to  flourish  our  sword  in  her  brother's 
face.  He  has  not  long  to  r.ve,  and  we  will  come  peacefully  in  posses- 
sion of  his  fair  province." 

^"JJr  rather,  the  war  for  its  possession  will  be  waged  in  the  King's 
private  apartments." 

"On  that  silly  subject  again,"  exclaimed  Kaunitz  impatiently.  "If' 
your  heart  bleeds  so  freely  for  the  sentimental  sorrows  of  the  King  of 
Rome,  you  will  have  another  opportunity  for  your  sensibilities  in  the 
marriage  of  his  brother  Leopold  ;  for  1  assure  you  that  his  intended  is 
not  one  whit  handsomer  or  more  intelligent  than  Josepha  of  liavaria. 
So  you  see  that  the  King  of  Rome  will  not  be  apt  to  envy  his 
brother." 

— "  Your  Highness  is  to  escort  the  Infanta  of  Spain  to  Inspruck  ?" 

— "Not  I,  indeed  ;  that  honor  I  do  not  confer  upon  insignificant  prin- 
cesses who  are  nothing  but  grand-duchesses  elect.  I  go  to  Inspruck  one 
day  sooner  than  the  imperial  family,  to  inspect  the  preparations  f  >r  the 
festivities,  and  then  I  shall  go  as  far  as  the  gates  of  Inspruck — no  farther, 
to  receive  Donna  Maria  Loui?a." 

"  That  is  tha  reason  why  your  levee  is  so  crowded  to  day,"  replied 
Binder  laughhig.  "  The  foreign  ministers  wish  to  take  leave  of  their 
master.     And  now  they  have  waited  long  enough  for  you.  Prince." 

"  I  shall  not  see  one  of  them.  Austria,  thanks  to  me,  is  now  so  pow- 
erful, that  1  need  give  myself  no  concern  to  soothe  the  anger  of  a  dozen 
petty  envoys,  and  to-day  there  are  none  other  in  the  ante-room." 

"The  Dutch  and  Saxon  Ministers,"  urged  Binder. 

"  Little  nobodies,"  said  Kaunitz  with  a  shrug.     "  T  will  not  see  them." 

"  But,  indeed,  you  presume  too  much  upon  their  littleness.  <)nly  yes- 
■terday  you  invited  the  Hessian  Ambassador  to  dine,  and  then  you  sat 
•down  to  table  without  him." 

— "  lie  wa<!  three  minutes  behind  the  time.  And  do  you  imacino 
that  Piiuce  Kaunitz  waits  for  a  poor  little  Hessian  Envoy  ?  1  did  it  on 
purpose  to  teach  him  punctuality." 

Here  the  Prince  rang  a  bell,  and  ordered  a  page  to  dipiniss  thegentle- 
Tnen  in  the  ante-room.* 

Baron  Binder  looked  after  the  page,  and  shook  his  head.  Kaunitz 
smiled.  "  Enoufjh  of  ambassadors  for  today.  The  ship  of  Austria  lies 
proudly  and  safely  in  the  haven  of  her  own  greatness;  and  would  you 
'deprive  the  pilot  of  a  few  hours  of  relaxation  ?     I  will  have  to  take  the 

"  Kcport  of  th*  Pniitlan  Ambaciador.    Baron  Furtt  ti  Frrdirick  II, 


EiSC  OF  P.OiK.  13  S 

helm  again  to  morrow,  when  I  go  to  Inspruck,  and  do  you  grumble  iT  for 
a  few  hours  I  enjoy  life  to-day  ?" 

"  I  was  not  aware  that  dismissing  one's  visitors  was  a  way  to  enjoy 
life,"  said  Binder. 

— "I  do  not  mean  that,  you  old  pedant.  Do  yon  hear  that  tapping  at 
the  door  1" 

— "  Yes,  I  hear  it.  It  is  from  the  little  private  door  that  leads  to  tho 
*«Drridor." 

— ''Well,  that  corridor,  as  you  know,  leads  to  a  side  entrance  of  the 
palace,  and  if  you  look  out  of  the  window  you  will  see  there  ihe  equi- 
page of  the  handsomest,  frailest,  and  most  fascinating  actress  in  all  Vien- 
na; the  equipage  of  the  divine  Foliazza.  IIea^  how  the  knocking  grows 
louder.     !NIy  charmer  becomes  impatient?" 

"Allow  me  to  retire,  then,"  said  Binder,  "and  leave  the  field  to  the 
prima  donna."  As  he  left  the  room,  he  muttered,  "  If  Kaunilz  were  not 
a  great  statesman,  he  would  be  a  ridiculous  old  fop ! ' 

Kaunilz  listened  with  perfect  unconcern  to  the  repeated  knocking  of 
his  charmer  until  Binder  was  out  of  sight,  then  he  walked  up  to  the 
looking-glass,  smoothed  his  locks,  straightened  his  ruffles,  and  drew  tho 
bolt  of  the  door.  The  beautiful  Foliazza,  in  a  coquettish  and  most  be- 
coming morning  costume,  radiant  with  smiles  and  beauty,  entered  the 
room. 

Kaunitz  greeted  her  coldly,  and  ansv,  ered  her  rapturous  salutations  by 
""a  faint  nod. 

"Your  impatience  is  very  annoying,  Olympia,"  said  he,  "you  beat 
upon  my  door  like  a  drum-major." 

"Your  Highness,  it  is  the  impatience  of  a  longing  heart,"  said  (he  sin- 
ger. "Do  you  know  that  it  seems  to  me  a  thousand  years  since  last  I 
was  allowed  to  enter  these  gates  of  Paradise!  For  eight  days,  I  have 
been  plunged  in  deepest  sorrow,  watching  your  carriage  as  it  passed  by 
my  house,  snatching  every  note  from  my  footman's  hands  in  the  hope 
that  it  might  be  one  from  you — hoping  in  vain,  and  at  last  yielding  my- 
self up  to  full  despair.'' 

"You  express  yourself  warmly,"  said  Kaunitz,  unmOved. 

"Yes,  indeed  ;  for  a  feeling  heart  always  finds  strong  expressions,"  an- 
swered the  Signora,  showing  a  row  of  teeth  between  her  rosy  lips  that 
looked  like  precious  pearls.  "And  now  my  adored  reprobate,  why  have 
you  banished  me  from  your  presence  for  an  eternity?  Which  of  my* 
two  enemies  h;ive  prevailed  against  me,  politics  or  the  Countess  Clary  '? 
Justify  yourself,  unkind,  but  beloved  Prince  ;  say  that  you  have  not  de- 
ceived me,  for  my  heart  yearns  to  forgive  you." 

She  came  very,  very  near,  and  with  her  bewitching  smiles,  looked  up 
into  Kaunitz's  face. 

Kaunitz  bent  to  receive  the  caress,  and  laid  his  hand  f  mdly  upon  her 
raven-black  hair.  "  Is  it  true  that  you  have  longed  fur  me — very  true 
indeed  ?"'  said  he. 

"  I  never  knew  how  dear  .you  were  to  me  until  I  had  endured  the  in- 


14U  JOSEl'H  THE  SECOND 

tolerable  pangs  of  your  absence,"  replied  Fdliazza,  leaning  her  head  up- 
on the  Prince's  shoulder. 

— -'You  love  me  tlien,  Olympial     Tell  me  dearest,  tell  me  truly." 

"Unjust!  you  ask  me  such  a  question!"  cried  the  Siguora,  putting 
her  arms  around  the  Prince's  neck. 

"  If  I  love  you  1  Do  you  not  feel  it  in  every  pulsation  of  my  heart, 
do  you  not  read  it  in  every  glance  of  my  eyes?  Can  you  not  feel  that 
my  only  thought  is  of  you — my  only  life,  your  love?" 

"I  am  really  glad  to  hear  it,"  said  Kaunitz,  with  statue-like  tranquili- 
ty. "  And  now  I  will  tell  you  why  I  have  not  sent  for  you  this  past 
week.  It  was  that  I  might  not  interrupt  your  tender  interviews  with 
Count  Palffy,  nor  frighten  away  the  poor  enamored  fool  from  the  snares 
yon  were  laying  for  him," 

The  Signora  looked  perfectly  astounded.     "  But  surely,"  stammered 

she,  "  your  Highness  does  not  believe " 

'  — "  Oh,  no.  I  believe  nothing ;  I  know  that  the  Olympia  who  loves 
me  so  passionately,  has  been  for  two  days  the  fair  friend  of  the  young, 
rich  and  prodigal  Count  Palffy." 

Here  the  Signora  laughed  outright.  "  But  your  Highness,  if  you  knew 
this,  why  did  you  not  stop  me  in  my  protestations,  and  tell  me  so  V' 

"  I  only  wanted  to  see  whether,  really,  you  were  a  finished  actress.  I 
congratulate  you,  Olympia;  I  could  not  have  done  it  better  myself" 

''  Prince,"  said  the  Signora,  seriously,  "  I  learned  the  whole  of  this 
scene  from  yourself;  and  in  my  relations  with  you  I  have  followed  the 
•example  you  gave  me.  While  you  swore  eternal  love  to  me,  you  were 
making  declarations  to  the  Countess  Clary.  Oh,  my  lord.  I  have  suffered 
at  your  hands,  and  the  whole  world  sympathises  with  my  disappointment. 
The  whole  world  knows  of'your  double  dealings  with  women,  and  calls 
you  a  heartless  young  libertine." 

"  Does  it?"  cried  Kaunitz,  for  a  moment  forgetting  his  coldness,  and 
showing  his  satisfaction  in  his  face.  "  Does  it  indeed  call  me  a  heartless 
young  libertine?" 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  Signora,  who  seemed  not  to  see  his  gratification. 
*'And  when  people  see  a  man  who  is  adored  by  women,  and  is  false  to 
them  all,  they  say  :  '  He  is  a  little  Kaunitz.' " 

When  the  Signora  said  this,  Kaunitz  did  what  he  had  not  done  for 
years,  he  broke  out  into  a  laugh,  repeating  triumphantly,  "A  little  Kau- 
nitz." "But^Tiarkyou,"  continued  he,  "other  libertines  are  calle'd  little 
Kaunitzes,  and  I  alone  am  the  great  Kaunitz," 

"  True,"  sighed  the  Signora,  "  and  this  great  Kaunits  it  is,  who  has  aban- 
■doned  me.  While  I  worshipped  the  air  he  breathed,  he  sat  at  the  feet 
of  the  Countess  Clary,  repeating  to  her  the  selfsanie  protestations  with 
which  an  hour  before  he  had  intoxicated  my  senses.  Oh,  when  I  heard 
this,  jealousy  and  despair  took  possession  of  my  soul.  I  was  resolved 
to  be  revenged,  and  so  I  permitted  the  advances  of  Count  Palffy;  ah! 
while  I  endured  his  presence,  I  felt  that  my  heart  was  wholly  and  for- 
,e.ver yours!     Oh,  my  adored,  my  great  Kaunitz,  cay  that  you  love 


KING  OF  ROME.  141 

me,  and  at  your  feet  I  throw  all  the  lesser  Kaunitzcs  in  token  of  my 
fealty." 

The  Signora  would  have  flung  her  arms  around  him,  but  Kaunitz,  with 
a  commanding  gesture,  waved  her  oiT. 

"  Very  well  done,  Olympia,'^  said  he,  nodding  his  head.  "  You  are  as 
accomplished  as  you  are  beautiful ;  and  well  I  understand  how  it  is  that 
jou  infatuate  with  your  charms  all  manner  of  little  Kaunitzes.  But  now 
listen  to  Kaunitz  the  great.  I  not  only  allow,  but  order  you  to  continue 
your  intrigue  with  Count PalflTy.  Take  everything  he  offers*,  wring  his 
purse  dry;  and  the  sooner  you  ruin  him  the  better." 

"That  means  that  I  importune  you  with  my  love.  Farewell,  Prince, 
and  may  you  never  repent  of  your  cruelty  to  poor  Olympia." 

"Stay,"  said  Kaunitz,  cooly.  "  I  have  not  done  with  you.  Continue 
your  amours  with  the  Hungarian,  and  love  him  as  much  as  you  choose, 
provided " 

"Provided,"  echoed  the  singer  anxiously,  as  Kaunitz  paused. 

— "  Provided  you  affect  before  the  world  to  be  still  my  mistress." 

"  Oh,  ray  beloved  Prince,"  cried  Foliazza,  "you  will  not  cast  me  off!" 
and  in  spite  of  his  disinclination,  she  folded  Kaunitz  to  her  heart. 

The  Prince  struggled  to  get  free.  "  You  have  dipananged  my  whole 
dress,"  said  he,  peevishly.  ''  On  account  of  your  folly,  i  shall  have  to 
make  my  toilet  again.     Hear  mo,  and  let  me  alone." 

"  I  said  that  you  would  affect  to  be  my  mistress.  To  this  end  you 
will  drive  as  usual  to  the  side-door  by  which  you  have  been  accustomed 
to  enter  the  palace,  and  while  your  carriage  stands  there  for  one  hour, 
you  shall  be  treated  to  a  costly  breakfast  in  my  little  boudoir,  every 
morning." 

— "  By  your  side,  my  own  Prince  ?" 

— "By  yourself,  my  own  Olympia.  I  have  not  time  to  devote  an 
hour  to  you  every  day.  Tour  carriage  shall  stand  at  my  door  in  the 
morning.  Every  evening,  mine  will  be  for  an  hour  before  y(u)rs,  and 
while  it  remains  there  1  forbid  you  to  be  at  home  to  any  one  whatso- 
ever." , 

"  I  shall  think  of  nothing  but  you  until  that  hour,"  said  the  Signora, 
fondly. 

"Fra^me;i;,  you  are  very  presuming  to  suppose  that  I  will  trouble 
myself  to  come  in  the  carriage,"  replied  Kaunitz,  conternptuously.  "  It 
is  enough  tlmt  the  coach  being  there,  the  world  will  suppose  that  I 
am  there  also.  A  man  of  fashion  must  have  the  name  of  possessing  a 
mistress;  but  a  statesman  cannot  waste  his  valuable  time  on  women. 
You  are  my  mistress,  ostensibly,  and  therefore  I  give  you  a  year's  salary 
of  four  thousand  guilders." 

"  You  are  an  angel — a  god  V  cried  La  Foliazza,  this  time  with  genuine 
rapture.     "  You  come  upon  one  like  Jupiter,  in  a  ehowcr  of  gold." 

"  Yes,  but  I  have  no  wish  to  fall  into  the  embraces  of  my  Dana3. 
Now  hear  my  last  words.  If  you  ever  dare  let  it  transpire  that  you  aro 
not  really  my  mistress,  I  will  punish  you  severely.     I  will  uot  only  stop 


142,  JOSEPH  THE  SECOND. 

your  salary,  but  I  will  cite  you  before  the  committee  of  morals,  and  you 
will  be  forced  into  a  marriage  with  somebody.'' 

.    The  singer  shuddered  and  drew  back.     "  Let  me  go  at  onco  into  my 
boudoir.     Is  my  breakfast  ready  ?" 

— "No — Your  morning  visits  there  begin  to-morrow.  Now  go  home 
to  Count  Palffy,  and  do  not  forget  our  contract." 

'•  I  will  not  forget  it,  Prince,"  replied  the  Signora  smiling.  I  await 
your  coach  this  evening.  You  may  kiss  me  if  you  choose."  She  bent 
her  head  to  his,  and  held  out  her  delicate  cheek,  fresh  as  a  rose. 

"Simpleton,"  said  he,  slightly  tapping  her  beautiful  mouth,  "  doyou 
suppose  that  the  great  Kaunitz  would  kiss  any  lips  but  those,  which,  like 
the  sensitive  Mimosa,  shrink  from  the  touch  of  man  !  Go  away.  Count 
Palffy  will  feel  honored  to  reap  the  kisses  1  have  left." 

He  gave  her  his  hand,  and  looked  after  her,  as  with  light  and  graceful 
carriage,  she  left  the  room. 

"  She  is  surpassingly  beautiful,"  said  Kaunitz  to  himself.  "  Every 
one  envies  me ;  but  each  one  thinks  it  quite  a  matter  of  course  that  the 
loveliest  woman  in  Vienna  should  be  glad  to  be  my  mistress.  Ah  !  two 
o'clock.  My  guests  await  me.  But  before  I  go,  1  must  bring  down  the 
Countess  Clary  from  the  airy  heaven  which  she  has  built  for  herself." 

He  rang,  and  a  page  appeared;  for  from  the  time  he  became'a  Prince, 
Kaunitz  introduced  four  pages  in  his  household,  aftid  kept  open  table  dai- 
]y,  for  twelve  persons. 

"Tell  the  Countess  Clary,"  said  he,  "that  I  will  come  in  a  few  rao- 
ments  to  conduct  her  to  the  dining-r9om.  Then,  await  me  in  my  pow- 
der-room." 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

PRINCE  KAUNITZ  AND  KITTER  GLUCK, 

Prince  Kaunitz  had  finished  his  promenade  in  the  powder-room,  and 
having  ascertained,  by  means  of  his  mirror,  that  his  perruque  was  in  or« 
der,  he  betook  himself  to  the  apartments  of  the  Countess  Clary,  to  con. 
duct  her  to  tabic. 

The  young  Countess,  Kaunitz's  niece  and  a  widow  scarcely  thirty 
years  of  age,  flew  to  greet  her  uncle,  radiant  with  smiles  and  happiness. 

"  What  an  unexpected  honor  you  confer  upon  me,  my  dear  uncle," 
said  she  with  her  sweet  lov/  voice.  "  Coming  yourself  to  conduct  me  to 
the  table  !  How  I  thank  you  for  preparing  mo  a  triumph  which  every 
woman  in  Vienna  will  envy  me." 


KINe  OF  ROMS.  143 

— "  [  came  with  no  intention  whatever  of  preparing  you  a  triumph  or 
a  pleasure.  I  came  solely  because  I  wish  to  have  a  lew  words  with  you 
before  we  go  in  to  dinner." 

"  I  am  all  ears,  your  Highness,"  said  the  Countess  smiling. 
Kaunit2  looked  at  his  young  and  lovely  niece  with  uncommon  scruti 
ny.     "  You  have  been  crying,"  said  he,  after  a  pause. 
"No,  indeed,"  said  she,  blushing. 

— "  t)o  you  *!upposc  that  you  can  deceive  me?  I  repeat  it,  you  have 
been  crying.     Will  you  presume  to  contradict  me?" 

— "No,  dear  uucle,  I  will  not." 

"And  wherefore?     No  prevarication  ;  I  must  know." 

The  young  Countess  raised  her  soft  blue  eyes  to  the  face  of  the  haugh- 
ty Prince.  "  I  will  tell  the  truth,"  said  she  again  blushing.  "  1  was  cry- 
ing  because  La  Foliazza  was  so  long  wit!i  you  to-day." 

"  Jealous,  too  !"  said  Kaunitz  with  a  sneer.  "  And,  pray,  who  ever 
gave  to  you  the  right  of  being  jealous  of  me  ?" 

The  Countess  said  nothing,  but  her  eyes  filled  with  tears. 

"Allow  me  to  discuss  this  matter  with  you.  I  came  for  this  purpose. 
Our  relations  must  be  distinctly  understood,  if  they  are  to  last.  You 
must  have  the  goodness  to  remember  their  origin,  "When  you  were  left 
a  widow,  you  turned  to  me,  as  your  nearest  relative,  for  assistance.  You 
were  unprotected,  and  your  husband  had  left  you  nothing.  I  gave  you 
my  protection  not  because  I  was  in  any  way  pleased  with  you,  but  be- 
cause you  were  my  sister's  child.  I  invited  you  hither  to  do  the  honors 
of  my  house,  to  give  orders  to  the  cooks  and  steward,  to  overlook  my 
household  arrangements,  and  to  rijceive  my  guests  in  a  manner  worthy 
of  their  host.  To  ensure  you  the  appearance  and  consideration  due  to 
you  as  my  niece  and  as  the  lady  of  my  house,  I  gave  you  a  remunera- 
tion of  two  thousartd  guilders  a  year.     Were  not  these  my  terms  ?" 

"  Yes,  your  Highness,  they  were.  They  filled  me  with  gratitude  and 
joy  ;  and  never  will  I  fojget  your  kindness." 

"  It  seems,  however,  that  you  do  forget  it,;' replied  the  Heartless  uncle. 
"  How-  does  it  happen,  that  you  take  the  liberty  of  being  unhappy  because 
La  Foliazza  is  in  my  room?  What  business  is  it  of  yours,  "whom  I  re- 
ceive or  entertain  ?  Have  I  ever  given  you  the  slightest  hope  that  from 
my  niece  I  would  ever  raise  you  to  the  eminence  of  being  my  wife?" 

"  Never,  never,  dear  uncle,"  said  the  Countess,  scarlet  with  shame. 
"You  have  never  been  otherwise  to  me  than  my  generous  benefactor." 

"Then  oblige  me  by  silencing  the  absurd  rumors  that  may  have  led 
you  into  the  delusion  of  supposing  that  I  ever  intended  to  make  of  you 
ft  princess.  I  wish  you  to  know  that  I  have  no  idea  of  marrying  again; 
and  if  ever  I  should  form  another  matrimonial  alliance,  it  will  either  be 
with  an  imperial  or  a  royal  princess.  Will  you  be  so  good  as  to  re- 
member this  and  to  act  accordingly." 

"  Certainly,"  replied  the.Couniess,  her  eyes  filling' with  tears.  "  I  as. 
sure  your  Highness  that  I  nave  never  been  so.  presuming  as  to  regard 
you  otherwise  than  as  my  kinsman  and  guardian.     My  feelings  of  ad- 


144  JOSEPH  THE  SECOND, 

miration  for  you  are  iq.deed  enthusiastic  ;  but  I  have  never  felt  anything 
towards  3'ou  but  the  attachment  of  a  daughter." 

"  Pray  do  not  trouble  yourself  to  feel  anything  at  all  on  my  account," 
said  Kaunitz  ill-humoredly.  "  I  am  not  under  the  necessity  of  playing 
the  part  of  a  tender  father  towards  you  ;  therefore,  dry  up  the  tears  you 
took  the  trouble  to  shed  on  La  Foliazza's  account.  But  enough  of  this 
folly.  I  hope  that  we  understand  one  another  and  that  I  will  not  have 
to  repeat  this  conversation.  Be  so  good  as  to  take  my  arm.  We  will 
go  forward  to  meet  our  guests." 

The  young  Countess  took  fhe  arm  of  the  Prince,  and  they  entered  the 
drawing-room.  The  guests  had  long  been  assembled  there,  but  it  never 
occurred  to  Kaunitz  to  make  any  apology  for  his  late  appearance.  Nev- 
ertheless, his  guests  were  all  noble ;  some  of  them  representatives  of 
princely  houses  or  powerful  kingdoms.  Kaunitz,  however,  was  not  only 
the  all-powbrful  Minister  of  Maria  Theresa;  it  was  well  known  that  his 
slender,  diamond-studded  fingers  directed  the  policy  of  all  Europe.  No 
one  in  that  room  had  the  courage  to  recent  his  rudeness.  All  seemed 
to  feel  honored  as  he  walked  haughtily  forward  with  a  slight  inclination 
of  his  head  to  the  many,  and  a  condescending  smile  to  the  (ow  whom  it; 
pleased  him  to  distinguish  by  his  notice.* 

Prince  Kaunitz  did  not  choose  to  perceive  that  several  distinguished 
ambassadors,  as  well  as  a  German  Prince,  himself  a  reigning  sovereign, 
were  present  as  his  guests.  He  passed  them  all  by,  to  accost  a  small 
graceful  man,  who  seated  in  a  recess  had  received  no  further  attention 
from  the  highborn  company  than  a  condescending  nod.  Kaunitz  gave 
him  his  hand,  and  welcomed  him  audibly.  The  honored  guest  was  No- 
verre,  the  inventor  of  the  Ballet  as  it  is  performed  to-day  on  the  stage. 
Noverre  blushed  with  pleasure  at  the  reception  given  him,  while  the 
other  guests  scarcely  concealed  their  chagrin. 

Just  then,  the  folding  doors  were  thrown  wide  open,  and  the  steward 
announced  in  a  loud  voice  that  the  table  of  his  Lord,  the  Prince,  was 
served.  The  company  rose,  and  tie  ladies  looked  to  see  which  of  them 
was  to  have  the  honor  of  being  conducted  to  the  table  by  the  host. 
Kaunitz  feigned  neither  to  see  nor  to  hear.  He  continued  his  conversa- 
tion with  Noverre,  and  when  he  had  quite  done,  he  sauntered  carelessly 
up  to  his  other  guests.  Suddenly  he  paused,  and  his  eyes  wandered 
from  one  to  another  with  a  searching  glance. 

"  Good  heavens  !"  exclaimed  he,  "  of  what  a  rudeness  we  were  about 
to  be  guilty  !  I  had  invited  Ritter  Gluck  to  meet  us  to-day,  and  he  has 
not  yet  arrived.  It  shall  not  be  said  of  me  that  I  was  ever  wanting  in 
respect  to  genius  as  transcendant  as  his.  I  must  beg  of  my  distinguish- 
ed guests  to  await  his  arrival  before  going  to  dinner."f 

Hereupon  he  resumed  his  conversation  with  Neverre.  The  other 
guests  were  indignant ;  for  they  all  felt  the  insult.  The  nobles  disap- 
proved  altogether  of  the  fashion,  which  had  been  introduced  by  Kaunitz, 

*  Wraxall  Memoirs,  vol.  1,  page  880. 
t  Bwinburno,  vol,  1,  page  80. 


II12sG  OP  ROME.  [45 

of  mingling  artists  and  savans  of  no  birth  with  the  .11  istocracy  of  Vienna- 
a^id  the  ambassadors  Mt  it  as  a  personal  injury,  that  Kaunitz,  who   ve.! 
'    terday  had  refused  to  wait  for  them,  to-day  called  upon  them  to  wait  for 
a  musician. 

Kaunitz  pretended  not  to  see  the  displeasure  which,  nevertheless  his 
guests  were  at  no  great  pains  to  conceal,  and  he  went  on  talkin<'  in  an 
animated  strain  with  Noverre.  The  poor  dancer  meanwhile  gave  short 
and  embarrassed  answers.  He  had  remarked  the  discontwit  of  the  com- 
pany, and  the  Pnncc  s  over-politeness  oppressed  him  :  the  mom  so  that 
he  perceived  one  of  the  lords  approachin«€gradually  with  the  intention 
of  addressing  the  Prince.  W  ith  the  deepest  respect,  the  dancer  attempt- 
ed to  withdraw;  but  the  merciless  Kaunitz  caught  him  by  one  of  the 
buttons  ot  his  velvet  coat,  and  h^ld  him  fast  j  01  uio 

"  Do  not  stir,"  said  the  Prince.  "  I  see  the  Duke  quite  as  well  as  you 
do ;  but  he  IS  a  bar  and  a  braggart;  I  dislike  him,  and  he  shall  not  speak 
with  me  Tell  me  something  about  the  new  ballet  that  you  are  arrang- 
ing lor  the  Emperor's  festival.  I  hear  that  Gluck  has  composed  the  mu- 
sic.    But  hush!     Here  comes  the  Maestro." 

Kaunitz  walked  rapidly  forward  and  met  Gluck  in  the  middle  of  the 
nS;  l.a  T  ^''^'i  o»e  another  cordially,  but  proudly,  as  (wo  princes 
might  have  done  Around  them  stood  the  other  guests,  frownin-^  to  .ee 
these  two  men,  both  so  proud,  so  conscious  of  greatness,  scarcely  seem- 
ing aware  that  others  besides  themselves  were  present.  Gluck  was  in 
iul  comt-dress;  athisside,asword;  on  his  breasr,  the  brilliant  order 
ot  tbo.Pope.  He  received  with  unembarrassed  courtesy  the  greetin-  of 
the  1  nnce,  and  made  no  apology  for  his  tardy  appearance.  • 

ihank  heaven  you  have  come  at  last !"  •ex-claimed  Kaunitz  in  an 

the  dailv  associa  es  of  the  great  Maestro,  would  deprive  us  poor  mortals 
ot  the  honor  of  dining  with  the  favorite  of  the  Muses  and  the  Grace!'' 
i  he  Gods,  the^  Muses,  and  the  Graces,  are  the  associates  of  Prince 
Kaunitz,    returned  Gluck.     "  If  they  are  not  to  be  found  in  their  tem- 
ples, wo  may  be  sure  that  they  have  taken  refuge  here." 

Kaunitz,  who  never  vouchsafed  a  civil  word  in  return  for  compliments 
bowed  his  head,,  and  with  a  gratified  smile  turned  to  his  assembled 

"  Ladies  and  gentlemen,"  said  he,  "  let  us  sit  down  to  dinner  "        . 
^hpn'.K  V^';'^!^'^  7'T.^'^  ^""^  ^^'^  "'Sn^il  to  rise,  which  would  be  given 

7Mlt^i:f"T''^  ^'"  ''^'■'"  '^  '^'  ^'^y  "^^^'^  ^«  complimented  by 
laKing  ner  in  to  dmner.  ^ 

The  Prince^looked  around,  and  his-cy^s  rented  again  on  Gluok 
durt  n.l      .    !,    '"l'.^'"'\'"  '"'^  ^^'^  gracioustyt»the  honor  of  con-, 
am     '"''Prvi'-    %'\^'^;    ^"^"'''^  ■'^  ^^"'•^^'^"^  '^«-he  ollered  his 
De?'of  vonr  n      '1      ?'  ^^"''''  '°'""  ''''^  "^*^ '  ^  ^'^  too  true  a  worship- 
per ot  your  mne  lovely  mistresses,  to  resign  you  to  any  one  ehe." 

^luck,  wi  h  a  smile  appreciative  of  the  honor  conferred  upon  him,  took 
the  arm  of  the  Prmco,  and  was  led  into  the  dining-room. 


10 


140  .  ^  JOSEPH  THE  SECOi«>. 

Behind  them  came  the  other  guests.  All  wore  discontented  faces ;  for 
this  time,  the  slight  had  been  oliered  not  only  to  dukes  and  ambassa- 
dors, but  to  the  Jadies  themselves,  who  could  not  help  feeling  biltsrly 
this  utter  disregard  of  all  etiquette  and  good  breeding. 

On  the  day  after  the  dinner,  Kaunitz  started  for  Inspruck  to  superin- 
tend the  festivities  preparing  for  the  marriage  of  the  Archduke  Leopold. 
Count  Durazzo,  the  Dir*iCtor  of  the  Theatres,  had  preceded  the  Princa 
by  a  week.  Noverre,  with  his  ballet-dancers,  was  tojollow.  The  great 
opera  ©f  Orpheus  and  Eurydice,  whose  fame  was  now  European,  was 
being  rehearsed  at  Inspruck,  for  representation  on  the  fu'st  night  of  the 
festival. 

Although  Florian  Gassman  was  a  leader  of  acknowledged  skill,  Gluck, 
at  the  request  of  the  Emperor,  had  gone  to  Inspruck  to  direct  and  over- 
see the  rehearsals. 

The  Furies  has  just  concluded  their  chorus,  and  Gluck  had  given  the 
signal  for  dismissal,  wHen  Prince  Kaunitz  entered  the  Theatre,  and  came 
forward,  offering  his  hand  to  the  Maestro. 

"  Well  Maestro,"  said  he,  "are  you  satisfied  with  your  artists?  Shall 
we  have  a  great  musical  treat  to-morrow  ?" 

Gluck  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  My  sipgers  are  not  the  angels  who 
''  taught  me  this  music,  but  for  mortals  they  sing  well.  I  scarcely  think 
that  Donna  Maria  Louisa  has  ever  heard  anything  comparable  to  the 
music  with  which  we  will  welcome  her  to-morrow." 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  it,"  said  Kaunitz,  with  his  usual  composure,  al- 
though he  was  inwardly  annoyed  at  Gluck's  complacency.  "But  as  I 
promised  the  Empress  to  see  and  hear  every  thing  myself,  I  must  hear 
and  judge  of  your  opera  also.     Be  so  good  as  to  have  it  repeated." 

Gluck  looked  at  the  Prince  in  amazement.  •  "  What,"  cried  he,  "  your 
Highness  wishes  them  to  go  through  the  whole  opera  without  an  au- 
'<iiencel" 

Prince  Kaunitz  raised  his  lofty  head  in  displeasure,  and  said  : 

"  liitter  Gluck,  quality  has  always  been  esteemed  before  quantity,  I 
alone  am  an  audience.     Let  the  opera  begin,  the  audience  is  here."*     • 

Gluck  did  not  answer  immediately.  He  frowned  and  looked  down. 
Suddenly  he  raised  his  head,  and  his  face  wore  its  usual  expression  of 
energy  and  power.   . 

"  I  will  gratify  your  Highness,  I  myself  would  like  to  hear  the  opera 
without  participating  in  it.  Ladies  and  gentlemen  of  the  Coulisses,  be 
so  kind  as  to  return — Gentlemen  of  the  Orchestra,  resume  your  instru- 
ments. Gassman,  have  the  goodness  to  lead.  Do  your  best,  let  us 
have  your  highest  interpretation  of  Art,  for  you  have  an  audience  such 
as  you  may  never  halfc  again.  Prince  Kaunitz  and  Ritter  Gluck  are 
your  listeners !" ^ ^> 

•lb*  Prince'*  own  words.    Swinburne,  toI,  I,  p.  862. 


JiyC  OF  ROilE.  1^-; 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

^  AN  UNFORTCKATB  MEKTlSa. 

FssTivAL  followed  festival.  The  streets  of  the  l^mitifd  ciipitol  of 
Tyrol  were  gay  with  the  multitudes  who  fhronced  to  do  houo7  o  tho 
luarriage  of  the  Empress's  second  son.  ^  °  ^"" 

Jt  was  the  second  diiv  after  tlio  wprlrlmrr      r>„  ♦!      r    » 

fore   he  .  ,«  of  the  city.    A  second  represcna.ion  had  been  ealkd  for' 

zi  '17,^:  s„rorrrM°^i'f  :-^^^ 

roon, ;  not  only  mortals,  but  Fair"  ,  Sy  ph Ides  .  nd  he' t  ZZd     "",■ 
goddesses.    It  was  a  bewildering  sce^e^fato'W"  ,f  Sastlf^vtll  r, 

;5;i&s:s:-^^^^^^^^ 
•  ;nr:rrpT,^^^^^^^^^^^^^ 

iorehead  encu-eled  by  a  coronet  of  d^nmonds  and  saf^hi res  walked 
among  her  gnests  with  enchanting  smiles  and  gracing  vod<Shf 

sorbed  m  one  another  that  it  was  easv  fn  «=pa  tUf  fi!  1  ,  '  ^'^^ 
happy  in  their  an-ections.  BehindThiS^d'tL'  vou  glrcMXlr 
who  were  enjoying  the  ball  to  the  utmost      When  fht  Frn^,  ' 

saie^Sol^L-CatdrL^ 

then,  their  adnriration  burst'fSfn  e^e'ry  ti'nrb '^  ^oU'^f"  wo/dt 
The  Empress,  who  overheard  these  murmured  phudit.    «mnl  i  J" 

l.y  upon  her  young  daughters,  who  even  if  thev  had  bJ,?  I'V'^' 
^^JjcM.c,es.es,  ^ould  still  have^^l^l  t'ndtmesT"g|;i J^f^ 

While  the  Empress,  in  the  full  splendor  of  her  rank  and  bpont.    ^ 
the  Etnperor'/n,.  fatitr  H^St^  of^rueT';:?::''  "'^'  "  ""' 


1 48  JOSEPS  THE  SECO?«D. 

As  the  pair  went  by,  the  Emperor  overheard  the  conjectures  of  the 
crowd,  and  he  turned  with  a  smile  to  the  lady  who  accompanied  him. 

'*  Do  not  fear,"  said  he,  "  there  is  no  danger  of  your  being  recognised. 
You  are  mistaken- for  another  lady.  I  promised  you  that  you  should 
meet  Joseph  hero,  and  I  will  keep  ray  promise.  Let  us  try  to  make  our 
way  through  the  crowd  that  we  may  join  him  as  soon  as  possible  ;  for  I 
sbel  oppressed  this  evening,  I  know  not  why." 

''Oh,  then,  your  Majesty,  let  me  go  back  into  the  ante-room,"  said- 
the  veiled  lady.     "I  begin  to  feel  all  the   rashness  of  my  undertaking, 
and  although  it  has  the  sanction  of  your  ]\Iajesty  and  the  Empress, 
I  feel  like  a  criminal,  every  moment  dreading  discovery.     Let  us  go 
back."  .        » 

"  No,  no,"  replied  the  Emperor,  "let  us'remain  until  the  interview 
with  Joseph  is  over.  I  shall  feel  no  better  in  the  ante-room  than  here. 
I  shall  never  be  well  until  I  leave  this  beautiful,  fearful  Tyrol.  Its  moun- 
tains v/eigh  heavily  upon  my  head  and  my  breast.  But  let  us  sib 
down  awhile.  I  love  to  listen  to  the  people  talk,  when  the  Court  is 
not  by."  • 

'•  But  while  your  Majesty  is  present,  the  Court  is  here,"  said  the 
lady. 

"  Not  so,  my  dear,"  whispered  the  Emperor,  "  the  Empress  and  my 
children  are  the  Court,  1  am  but  a  private  nobleman.  Ah,  there  they 
oome  !  See  how  beautiful  and  stately  the  Empress  looks  !  Who  would 
suppose  that  this  grown-up  family  were  her  children  ! — But  she,  she 
signs  us  to  approach.    Take  courage  and  ay^^ait  me  here." 

So  saying,  the  Emperor  hastened  towards  his  wife,  who  received  him 
with  a  loving  smile  of  welcome. 

"Now,  my  son,"  said  |he,  withdrawing  her  arm  from  Joseph,  "I give 
you  your  freedom.  1  advise  you  to  mix  among  the  masks,  and  to  go  in 
search  of  adventures.  We  have  done  enough  for  ceremony,  I  think"  we 
may  now  enjoy  ourselves  a  little  like  the  rest  of  mankind.  If  we  were 
younger,  Franzel,  we,  too,  would  mix  with  yonder  crowd,  and  dance 
awhile.  But  I  suppose  we  must  leave  that  to  our  children,  and  betake 
ourselves  to  the  card  table,  or  to  the  fjpera-house." 

"  If  your  Majesty  leaves  me  the  choice,"  said  the  Emperor,  "  I  vote 
for  the  opera." 

The  Empress  took  his  arm,  while  she  turned  to  the  Countess  Lerchen- 
feld,  the  governess  of  the  Archduchesses.  "To  thedanclng-roD.m,  Coun- 
tess," said  she;  "the  Archduchesses  may  dance,  but  no  ma^-k  must  en- 
ter the  room.  Now,  my  dear  husband,  follow  me.  Adieu,  Joseph! 
To-morrow,  I  expect  to  hear  what  fortune  has  befallen  you  to-night." 
.  "  Your  Majesty  forgets  that  Fortune  is  a  woman,"  returned  Joseph 
smiling,  "and  you  know  that  I  have  no  luck  with  women." 

'■  Or  you  will  not  have  il,"  said  the  Empress  laughing,  and  leaving  her 
son  to  his  thoughts. 

"  Or  you  will  not  have  it,"  repeated  a  soft  voice  near,  and  Joseph 
turning,  saw  an  elegant  looking  woman,  veiled  and  ran-''kcd. 


KIS^  OV  ROME:  149 

"Fair mask,''  said  he  smilinf:,  ''uUhough  you  have  the  t^ualilies  of 
Echo,  you  havn  not  yet  pined  away   to  invisibility." 

"  Perhapp,  Sire,  my  body  is  only  the  coffin  of  my  heart,  and  my  heart 
the  unfortunate  Echo  that  has  grieved  hcri.e!f  to  death  nvid  inviaibility. 
But  perhaps  your  Majesty  does  not  believe  in  the  power  of  grief,  for 
doubtless  you  are  unacquainted  with  its  pangs." 

''And  why  should  you  imagine  that  lam  unacquainted  with  grief  1" 
asked  Joseph. 

"Because  your  Majesty's  station  is  exalted  above  that  of  other  men; 
because  God  has  blessed  you  with  a  noble  heart,  that  is  worthy  of  your 
destiny — the  destiny  which  gives  you  the  power  of  making  other  mor- 
tals happy." 

— "  How  do  you  know  all  tliisT' 

"I  see  it,"  whispered  she,  "  in  your  eyes  ;  those  eyes  that  reflect  the 
blue  of  lieaven.     Oh,  Sire,  may  never  a  cloud  darken  that  heaven  !'' 

"  I  thank  you  for  your  pious  wish,"  replied  the  King  sadly,  but  if  you 
■  are  mortal,  you  know  that  in  this  world  there  is  no  such  thing  as  cloud- 
less skies.     Let  us  not_  speak  of  such  serious  matters;  give  me  your 
arm,  and  let  us  join  in  the  mirth  that  is  around  us." 

— "If your  Majesty  will  permit  me,  1  will  while  away  the  hour  bv 
relating  to  you  a  sad  .story  of  life." 

— "  Why  a  sad  story,  why  not  a  merry  one?" 

"  Because  I  came  here  for  no  other  object  than  to  relate  this  sad  story 
to  yourself.  1  came  to  crave  your  Majesty's  sympathy  and  clemency 
in  behalf  of  a  suflering  fellow-creature." 

"  Can  I  do  anything  in  the  matter  ?"  asked  the  King. 

— "From  your  Majesty  alone  do  1  hope  for  succor." 

— "  Very  well ;  if  so,  let  me  hear  the  story.     I  will  listen." 

"Sire,  my  mournful  history  will  ill  accord  with   the  merriment  of  a 

ball-room.     If  you  will  condescend  to  go  with  me  to  one  of  the  boxes  in 

the  gallery,  there  I  will  confide  my  secret  to  your  ear,  and  there,  I  hope 

to  soften  your  heart.     Oh,  Sire,  do  not  tarry  ;  it  is  a  case  of  life  or 

"death." 

"  Well,"  said  Joseph  after  a  pause,  "  I  will  go.  After  all,  I  am  about 
to  have  an  adventure." 

The  mask  bowed,  and  made  her  way  through  the  crowd  to  a  side- 
door  which  opened  upon  the  private  stair-case  leading  to  the  boxes.  Jo- 
seph looked  with  interest  at  the  light  and  elegant  fornrf  that  preceded  him, 
and  said  to  himself,  "  Truly  an  adventure  !  I  will  follow  it  to  the  end." 

They  were  now  in  the  galleries  from  whence  a  beautiful  view  of  the 
ball-room  was  obtained.  The  lady  entered  a  box,  the  King  following. 
The  sound  of  the  music,  and  the  gay  voices  of  the  dancers,  came  with 
softened  murmur  to  the  ears  of  the  King.  He  thought  of  the  past ;  but 
rousing  himself  10  the  exigencies  of  the  present,  he  turned  to  the  lady 
and  said,  '•  Now,  fiiir  mask,  to  your  narrative." 

"  Swear  first  to  hear  mc  to  the  end  !  Swear  it  by  the  memorv  of  Is- 
abella, whom  you  s(;  passionately  loved," 


i5IJ  JoSfiJTH  i'H£  su:uj<» 

*•  Idabellu  !"  crieil  Joseph  turning  pule.  "  You  are  very  bold,  madam, 
to  call  that  name,  and  call  it  here !  But  spccak.  By  her  loved  memory 
I  will  listaij." 

She  took  his  hand  and  pressed  it  to  her  lips.  Then  she  begged  the 
lung  to  be  seated,  and  took  her  place  by  his  side. 

"Sire,  I  will  relate  to  you  the  history  of  a  woman  whom  God  has 
cither  blessed  or  cursed  ;  a  woman  who,  if  she  were  not  the  most  unlor- 
tunate,  would  be  the  happiest  of  mortals." 

"You  speak  as  the  Sphinx  did  before  the  gates  of  Thebes.  How  eaa 
one  bo  at  the  same  time  blessed  and  cursed  ?" 

"Sire,  it  is  a  blessing  to  be  capable  of  loving  with  passion  ;  it  is  a 
curse  to  love  and  not  be  loved  in  return." 

"  And  a  greater  curse,",  murmured  Joseph,  "  to  feign  love  and  not  to 
feel  it.  I  have  been  the  victim  of  such  hypocrisy,  and  never  will  1  out- 
live its  bitter  memories."  ,    * 

"Sire,"  began  the  lady,  "the  woman  of  whom  I  speak  would  willing- 
ly givo  a  year  of  her  life  if  the  man  she  loves  would  but  vouchsafe  to 
her  thirsting  heart  one  single  glance  of  love.  Think  how  wretched  she 
must  be,  when  even  the  appearance  of  love  would  satisfy  her.  But  do 
not  suppose,  Sire,  that  this  woman  is  -the  victim  of  a  guilty  passion, 
which  p1i9  dare  not  own.  She  is  a  wife,  and  the  man  she  adores  and 
who  loves  her  not,  is  her  husband." 

"  Why  does  he  not  lovo  her?"  asked  Joseph  quickly. 

"Because,"  Raid  the  mask  in  an  agitated  voice,  "because  she  has 
sinned  against  him.  On  the  day  of  her  marriage,  although  he  nobly  in- 
vited her  confidence,  she  hid  from  him  a — a — malady — Oh,  in  mercy,  do 
.not  go  !  You  miisi  hear  mo,"  cried  she,  almost  frenzied,  "  you  swore  to 
listen,  by  the  memory  of  Isabella." 

Joseph  resumed  his  seat  and  said  roughly,  "  Go  on,  then." 

"It  was  a  crime,"  continued  she  in  a  voice  of  deepest  emotion,  "bufc 
she  has  paid  dearly  for  her  sin.  Her  husband  repulsed  her,  but  her 
heart  was  still  his;  he  desj;fised  her,  and  yet  she  adores  him.  Her  mal- 
ady has  long  since  disappeared  ;  her  heart  alone  is  sick  ;  that  heart  which 
will  break  if  her  lord  refuse  to  forgive  her  the  offence  that  was  born  of 
her  love  for  him  I  But  oh,  Sire  !  he  has  no  pity.  When  she  meets  him 
with  imploring  looks,  he  turns  away ;  her  letters  he  sends  to  her  uno- 
pened. Oh,  he  is  severe  in  his  wrath  ;  it  is  like  vengoince  from  heaven  ! 
But  still  she  loves,  and  still  she  hopes  that  one  day  he  will  be  generous, 
and  forgive  her  another  crime — that  of  not  being  blessed  with  beauty. 
For  mouths  she  has  bulged  to  tell  him  that  she  repents  of  her  faults,  that 
her  punishrneut  is  just,  hut  oh!  oh!  she  begs  for  mercy.  She  was  for- 
bidden to  follow  him  to  Inspruek,  but  she  could  not  stay  behind.  His 
parents  gave  their  consent,  and  she  is  here-at  your  knees,  my  Lord  and 
.King,  to  plead  for  mercy.  Oh  !  has  there  not  been  enough  of  cruelty. 
See  me  humbled  at  your  feet;  reach  mo  your  beloved  hand,  and,  bid 
me  sit  by  your  side  !" 

iShe  had  sunk  to  the  ground,  and  now  tearing  from  her  face  the  mask: 


£L>«  0¥  nj/nusi  Ijl 


and  veil,  the  King  of  Kome  beheld  #Le  death'-iikd  oouaUaAnAe  of  his 
despised  wife.  I 

Jcvseph  rose  from  his  se^t  and  looked  at  her  \vith  inexorahle  hate. 
"  Madam,"  said  he,  "  ihaiilis  to  the  name  which  vou  used-  to  force  uae 
into  comj)liance,  I  have  heard  you  out.  I  married  you  without  affectifv.i, 
and  yon  had  been  my  wife  but  a  few  houi«  when  you  turned  my  indif- 
ference into  undying  hate.  You  come  and  whine  to  mo  for  my  love; 
and  you  inform  rao  that  you  are  love-sick  on  my  account.  If  so,  I  dare 
say  that  Van  Swieten,  who  cured  you  of  leprosy,  can  also  cure  you  of 
your  unfortunate  attachment.  If  you  never  knew  it  before,  allow  me  to 
inform  you  that  your  love  givesyou  no  claim  upon  viine  ;  and  when  a 
woman  has  the  indelicacy  to  thrust  herself  upon  a  man  who  has  never 
sought  her,  she  must  expect  to  be  despised  and  humbled  to  the  dust. 
And  now,  madam,  as  I  still  have  the  misfortune  to  be  your  husband,  lis- 
ten to  my  commands.  You  came  here  in  sphe  of  my  prohibition  ;  as 
you  pass  in  the  world  for  my  wife,  you  shall  at  least  be  obedient  to  my 
will.  Go  back  this  night  to  Vienna,  and  never  again  presume  to  entrap 
me  into  another  interview  like  this." 

Without  vouchsafing  a  look  at  the  fainting  woman  who  lay  at  his  feet, 
Joseph  left  the  box,  and  descended  to  the  ball-room. 

But  what  wail  was  that,  which,  coming  from  the  imperial  banquetting' 
hall,  hushed  every  sound  of  music  and  mirth,  and  drove  the  gay  multi- 
tude in  terror  from  the  ball-room  ! 

The  King  of  Rome  was  hastily  making  his  way  through  the  terrified 
crowd,  when  he  was  met  by  one  of  his  own  ofTicers, 

"I  have  been  seeking  your  Majesty,"  said  he  in  a  trembling  voice. 
"  The  Emperor " 

— "  In  heaven's  name,  what  of  the  Emperor  V 

— "  He  is  very  ill,  your  Majesty.  On  leaving  the  theatre,  he  was 
struck  down  by  apoplexy." 

The  King  made  no  reply.  He  dashed  on  from  room  to  room  until  he 
reached  his  father's  sleeping  apartment. 

And  there  on  the  bed,  that  white,  motionless  body,  that  cold  insensi- 
ble piece  of  clay,  that  marble  image  without  breath — that  was  all  that 
earth  now  held  of  the  Emperor,  Francis  of  Lorraine. 

He  was  dead,  and  his  wish  had  been  granted.  He  had  gone  forever 
from  the  "  beautiful,  fearful  Tyrol  j"  and  its  mountains  lay  no  longer 
heavy  on  his  breast 


i.V2,  i'j-^l'H    lUL  5i,(.'UMl;' 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 


The  sound  of  rejoicings  was  hushed.  The  people  of  Inspnick  had  has- 
tened to  remove  from  the  streets  every  symbol  of  festivity.  The  flow- 
ers and  flags,  the  triumphal  arches  and  the  wreathed  Arcades  had  disap- 
peared.    The  Epithalanium  had  been  followed  by  the  dirge.  ' 

Night  had  set  in — the  first  night  of  the  Emperor's  death.  The  corpse 
still  lay  on  the  bed  where  its  last  breast  had  been  drawn,  and  no  one  was 
with  the  deceased  Sovereign  except  two  night-watches,,, whose  drowsy 
heads  were  bui'ied  in  the  arm-chairs  where  they  sat.  0eath  had  ban- 
ished ceremony.  In  the  presence  of  their  dead  Emperor,  his  attendants 
were  seated  and  slept.  In  the  centre  of  the  room  stood  the  coffin  that 
awaited  the  imperial  remains  ;  for  on  the  morrow,  the  funeral  ceremo- 
nies were  to  begin.  But  the  Empress  had  ordered  that  on  this  night  all 
ceremony  should  be  suspended. 

Deep  silence  reigned  throughout  Inspruck.  The  citizens  worn  out 
with  the  excitement  of  the  day,  had  all  retired  to  rest.  Even  the  chil- 
dren of  the  deceased  had  forgotten  their  sorrow  in  sleep.  Maria  There- 
sa alone  sought  no  rest. 

All  that  day  she  had  'been  overwhelmed  by  grief;  even  prayer  seem- 
ed to  bring  no  relief  to  her  heart.  But. now  she  was  tranquil,  she  had 
thrust  back  her  tears,  and  the  Empress-widow,  all  etiquette  forgetting, 
was  making  her  husband's  shroud. 

As  a  woman  she  grieved  for  the  partner  of  her  joys  and  sorrows  ;  as 
a  woman  she  wished  to  pay  the  last  sad  honors  to  the  only  man  whom 
she  had  ever  loved.  She  whose  hands  were  accustomed  to  the  sceptre, 
now  held  a  needle,  and  to  all  oflfers  of  assistance  she  made  but  one  reply. 

"  Nont^-  of  you  are  worthy  to  help  me  in  this  holy  \s-ork,  for  none  of 
you  loved  him.  For  you,  he  was  the  benificent  and  honored  Sovereign, 
but  for  me,  he  was  the  joy,  the  light,  the  air  of  my  life.  I,  who  loved 
him,  have  alone  the  right  to  work  upon  his  shroud. 

"  Oh,  your  Majesty,' cried  the  Countess  I3aun,  while  her  eyes  filled 
with  sympathizing  tears,  "  would  that  the  world  could  see  with  what 
devotion  the  great  ]\Iaria  Theresa  sits  in  the  stillness  of  the  night,  and 
with  her  own  hands  prepares  her  husband's  shroud  !" 

The  Empress  quickly  raised  her  head,  and  with  something  like  her 
accustomed  imperiousncss,  said,  ^I  forbid  any  one  of  you'  to  speak  of 
what  you  have  seen  to-night.  Innthe  simplicity  of  my  grief,  \  do  what 
my  heart  urges  me  to  do  ;  but  let  not  my  sorrow  become  the  subject 
of  the  vrorld's  idle  gossipT    When  the  husband   dies,   his   wife,   be  she 


KING  OF  ROME.         ^  1  y.'. 

empress  or  lieg^gftr,  is  nolliing  but  a  sorrow iii;j  widow.  Ah!  I  aui  iit- 
dced  beggared  ofal)  my  \\e:ilt.h,  for  I  have  lose  the  dearest  treiisiire  I 
possessed  on  earth.     All  my  joys  will  die  with  hiui." 

The  Empress's  sobs  choked  her  utteranrr  ;  and  Vmryincr  her  fjrce  in 
the  ,shrou(>,  she  wept  aloud. 

"  In  the  riaflle  of  heaven,  your  Majesty,  do  not  let  yonr  tears  fall  up- 
on the  shroud,"  cried  the  (Countess  Daun,  while  she  tried  -with  gentle 
force  to  wrest  the  cloth  from  the  Empress's  hands.  "  I  have  heard  it 
said  that  what  is  laid  in  the  coflin  bedew'cd  with  tears  draws  after  it  to 
the  grave  the  one  sheds  them." 

'•  Would  it  were  true!"  exclaimed  the  Empres's,  who  had  already  re- 
sumed her  work.  "  Would  that  my  Francis  could  open  his  arms  to  re- 
ceive me,  that  I  might  rest  by  his  side  from  the  cares  of  life  !  Would 
that  1  were  with  hin\,  who  was  my  lover  from 'earliest  childhood  ;  for 
cold  and  cheerless  will  be  the  life  that  is  no  longer  lit  up  by  his  smile !" 

She  bent  once  more  over  her  work,  and  nothing  further  was  said  ;  but 
her  ladies  of  honor  gazed  with  tearful  eyes  upon  the  hiph-horn  mourner, 
who,  in  her  long  black  dress,  was  making  a  shroud  (or  her  lost  husband. 

Ac  last  the  task  was  completed,  and  she  rose  irom  her  seat.  With  a 
sad  smile,  she  threw  the  shroud  over  her  head,  and  it  fell  around  her 
r^estic  form  like  a  white  veil. 

^  My  veil  of  eternal  widowhood  !"  said  she.  "  Lot  me  warm  it  with 
my  love,  that  it  may  not  lie  too  cold  upon  my  darling's  breast.  Now, 
my  friends,  go  and  rest.  Pray  for  the  Emperor,  and  for  his  heart-bro- 
ken wife." 

"Surely,"  POvid  the  Countess  Daun,  "your  Majesty  will  not  send  ns 
away  until  we  liave  attended  to  your  wants.  Let  us  remain;  we  will 
watch  by  your  bedside." 

— "  No,  Countess,  I  will  dispense  with  your  services  to-night.  Char- 
lotte Von  Ilieronymus  will  stay  with  me." 

Turning  to  her  beloved  little  tire-woman  she  said,  "I  want  your  at- 
tendance yet  awhile,  Charlotte  ;  you  are  to  dress  my  hair  to  night  as  be- 
comes a  widow.     Good  night,  ladies." 

The  ladies  of  honor,  with  deep  curtsies,  left  the  room. 

As  the  door  closed  behind  them,  she  said  to  Charlotte,  "  Now,  Char- 
lotte, dear  child,  you  shall  go  with  me  on  my  last  visit  to  the  Emperor. 
Take  a  pair  of  scissors,  and  come." 

"Scissors,  your  Majesty  !"  said  Charlotte. 

"  Yes,  my  dear,"  replied  she,  as  she  advanced  to  her  work-table  from 
whe.nce  she  took  up  a  silver  candelabrum,  and  signed  to  Charlptte  to 
follow. 

Wrapping  the  shroucl  close  about  her,  the  Empress  went  forward 
through  the  long  suite  of  magniiicent,  but  dark  and  empty  rooms,  that 
lay  b('tween  her  and  her  husband.  Her  tall  white  figure,  enveloped  in 
the  shroud,  looked  in  the  gloom  of  night  liklj  a  ghost.  The  light  which 
she  carried,  as  it.  flashed  across  herlace  gave  it  a  weird  aspect;  and  as 
the  two  wanderers  wont  flitiingby  the  large  mirrors  that  here  and  t'l^erp 


154  .^.  JOSEPH  THJE  SKCOMU 

ornamented  the  rooms,  they  looked  like  a  vision  Oiiit  liad  started  up  for 
a  moment,  then  vanished  into  utter  darkness. 

At  last  ihey  came  to  a  door  which  stood  ajar,  through  which  a  lighfc 
was  visible. 

"  We  are  here,"  said  the  Empress,  leaning  against  the  dooi-  for  sup- 
port. Step  lightly,  Charlotte,  and  make  no  noise,  for  the  Emperor 
sleeps." 

There  on  the  bed,  with  its  yellow  sunken  flice,  was  the  corpse  that 
had  been  her  husband — the  only  man  she  had  ever  loved  !  And  that 
hideous  black  cofiln,  which  looked  all  the  gloomier  for  the  wax-lights 
that  burned  around  it,  was  his  last  resting-place. 

Maria  Theresa  shuddered  when  she  saw  all  this;  but  her  strong  will 
came  to  her  help,  and  she  went  steadily  forward  until  she  reached  the 
nrght-watchers.  She  awoke  them,  and  said  "  Go— ^wait  in  the  next  room 
until  I  call  you."     Charlotte  was  already  on  her  knees,  praying. 

The  £^pres3  stood  once  more  irresolute,  then  rushing  forward  with  a 
cry  she  leaned  over  the  body. 

"^Presently  she  laid  her  hand  lovingly  upon  the  staring  eyes  of  the 
corpse,  and  looked  long  and  tenderly  at  the  face.  , 

"Shut  your  eyes,  my  Franz,"  said  she  scfftly,  "shut  your  eyes,  for 
never  have  they  looked  so  coldly  upon  me  before.  Do  not  forget  m  Ai 
heaven,  my  beloved  ;  but  leave  your  heart  with  me;  min'e  h'a3  b^n 
with  you  for  so  many  years.  First  I  loved  you  as  a  child — then  as  a 
maiden — and  lastly,  I  loved  you  as  a  wife  and  the  mother  of  your  chil- 
dren. And  I  will  ever  love  you,  my  own  one.  I  was  true  as  your  wife, 
and  I  will  be  true  as  your  widow.     Farewell,  my  beloved,  farewell !" 

She  bent  over  and  kissed  the  Emperor's  mouth  ;  then  for  a  moment 
she  laid  her  head  upon  his  cold,  still  bosom.  Then  again  she  drew  her 
hand  softly  across  his  eyes,  and  tried  to  close  them.  A  proud  smile 
flitted  over  her  wan  face,  for  the  eyes  of  the  corpse  closed.  The  loving 
hand  of  the  wife  had  prevailed  where  every  other  effort  had  failed.  True 
to  her  wishes  in  death  as  in  life,  the  dead  Emperor  had  shut  his  eyes  to 
eal'th  forever,  * 

"  Come,  Charlotte,  come,"  cried  the  Empress,  almost  joyfully,  "  see 
how  my  Emperor  loves  me  !  He  hears  me  still,  and  he  has  granted  my 
last  request.  I  will  mourn  no  more,  but  will  think  of  the  day  when  I 
shall  go  to  him  again  and  share  his  home  in  heaven.  Until  then,  ray 
Franz,  farewell !" 

She  bent  her  bead,  and  taking  the  shroud  from  her  shoulders,  she 
spread  it  carefully  over  the  coffin,  smoothing  every  wrinkle  with  her 
hands,  until  it  lay  as  perfect  as  the  covering  of  a  cotich. 

"Call  the  valets,  Charlotte,"  said  she,  "and  as  they  entered  thefoom, 
she  motioned- them  to  advance."  Help  me  to  lay  the  Emperor  on  yon- 
der— bed,"  said  she.     "  Take  the  feet  and  body,  and  I  will  bear  his  head." 

With  her  strong  arms,  she  raised  him  as  a  mother  would  move  her 
sleeping  child,  and  with  the  help  of  the  valets,  she  laid  her  husband  ia 
hh  coffin.     This  done,  she  again  sent  away  the  attendants,  and  then 


KL-5G  OF  RoMJi  155 

wrapped  ilie  body  in  the  ehroud  aa  though  she  had  been  protecting  it 
from  tlie  cold. 

"  Come  hilher,  Charlotte,"  said  she,  "  with  your  scissors."  Charlotte 
approached  noiselessly.  "  Cut  oft'my  hair,"  eontinue'd  she,  takinir  out; 
her  comH,  and  letting  down  the  rich  masses  until  it  fell  about  her  person 
like  another  shroud. 

"  No,  your  Majesty  ;  no,"  cried  Charlotte  bursting  into  tears.  "  I 
never  can  cot  off  that  magnificent  hair." 

"  Good  child,"  said  the  i'Jmpress,  "  many  a  weary  hour  has  that  mag- 
nificent hair  cost  you,  and  do  you  ask  to  have  it  spared  1  h  shall  give 
you  no  more  trouble.     Take  the  scissors,  and  cut  it  off!" 

"  Has  your  Majesty  then  forgotten,"  pleaded  Charlotte,  '•  how  dearly 
the  Emperor  loved  this  hair  1" 

"No,  Charlotte,  and  therefore  he  must  have  it.  'Tis  the  last  love- 
tok-en  I  have  to  give.him.  I  cannot  die  with  him  like  an  iiidinn  wife; 
but  religion  does  not  forbid  nic  to  lay  this  off(!iing  at  least,  in  his  cofiiii. 
He  so  often  used  to  pass  his  hands  through  it,  he  was  so  proud  of  its 
beauty,  that  now  he  is  gone,'no  one  else  shall  see  it.  Lay  no  more,  Char- 
lotte, but  cut  it  off." 

The  Empress  bent  her  head,  while  Charlotte,  with  a  heartfelt  sigh, 
and  trembling  hands  cut  off  the  long  and  beautiful  blond  hair  which 
Maria  Theresa  laid  as  a  love-token  in  the  coffin  of  her  husband.* 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

THE  IMPERIAL  ABBESS. 

I 

The  funeral  rites  were  over.  In  the  crypt  of  the  church  of  the  Capu- 
chins, under  the  monumcnt^which,  twenty  years  before,  the  Empress  had 
built  for  herself  and  her  husband,  lay  the  body  of  Emperor  Francis.  In 
this  vault  slept  all  the  Imperial  dead  oi"  the  house  of  HapsKurg.  One 
after  another,  with  closed  eyes  and  folded  hands,  their  marble  effigies 
were  stretched  across  their  tombs,  stiff  and  cold  as  the  bones  that  were 
buried  beneath.  The  eternal  night  of  death  reigned  over  those  couchant 
images  of  stone  and  bronze. 

But  Maria  Theresa  and  her  Emperor  had  conquered  Death.  Both  ris- 
ing from  the  tomb,  their  eyes  were  fixed  upon  each  other  with  an  ex- 
pression of  deepest  tenderness,  while  Azrael  who  stood  behind,  with  a 
/wreath  of  cypress  in  his  hands,  seemed  to  have  transformed  himself  into 
an  Angel  of  love  that  sanctified  their  union  even  beyond  the  tomb — 

*  CnroUne  Pichler,  Memotrg,  Vol.  1,  paje  38. 


156  '    .JOSEPH  THE  SECOND. 

All  bad  left  the  vault  save  the  widowed  En)press;  she  had  remained 
behind  to  weep  and  pray.  •  Her  prayers  ended,  she  drew  her  Jptig  black 
cloak  around  her  and  strode  tlirbugh  the  church,  unmindfuTof  the  monkj^ 
who,  on  either  side  of  the  ai?le,  awaited  her  appcarancejn  respectful  siw 
Jence.  She  heeded  neither  their  inclined  heads  nor  their  looks  of  sympa- 
thy :  stunned  by  grief,  she  was  unmindful  of  externals,  and  scarcely 
knew  that  she  had  left  the  vault,  when  her  coach  stopped  before  the  im- 
perial palace. 

Once  there,  Maria  Theresa  pussed  by  the  splendid  apartments  which 
during  her  husband's  life  she  had  inhabited  ;  and  ascending  the  stair-case 
to  the  second  story  of  the  palace,  she  entered  upon  the  dwelling  which 
had  been  prepared  for  her  widowhood.  .  It  was  simple  to  coldness. 
Hung  with  black,  nothing  relieved  the  gloom  of  these  rooms;  'neither 
mirror,  picture,  gilding  nor  flowers  wore  there.  The  bed-room  looked 
sad  in  the  extreme.  The  walls  were  hung  in  gray  silk;  gray  velvet 
curtains  were  drawn  in  front  of  the  small  widow's  bed  ;  the  floor  was 
covered  with  a  gray  carpet  studded  with  white  lilies,  and  the  furniture 
was  like  Che  curtains,  of  dim,  dull  gray  vcliet.^ 

As  the  Empress  entered  this  dismal  room  she  saluted  her  ladies  of 
honor  who  had  followed  her,  and  now  stood  awaiting  her  commands  at 
the  door. 

"  Bring  all  my  dresses,  shawls,  laces,  and  jewe!^  to  me  in  the  recep- 
tion room,  ffnd  send  a  messenger  to  Prince  Kaunitz  to  say  that  I  await 
his  presence." 

The  ladies  of  honor  left  the  room  silently,  and  the  Empress,  closing 
the  door,  again  began  to  weep  and  pray.  Meanwhile  her  attendants 
were  occupied  bringing  up  the  costly  wardrobeof  their  imperial  mistress. 
In  a  little  while  the  dark  rooms  were  brightened  with  velvet  and  silk  of 
every  color,  with  gold  and  silver,  with  jewels  and  flowers. 

The  ladies  looked  with  eager  and  admiring  eyes  at  the  magnificence 
which  had  transformed  this  funereel  apartment  into  a  bazar  of  elegance 
and  luxury,  scarcely  daring  to  speak  the  hopes  and  wishes  that  were 
filling  all  their  hearts.  Suddenly  their  curious  eyes  sought  the  ground, 
for  the  Empross  appeared,  and  entered  the  room.  Whai'a  contrast  be- 
tween this  pale  figure,  clad  in  simplest  mourning,  and  the  rich  costumes 
which  in  the  days  of  her  happiness  had  heightened  her  beauty; — those 
days  which  seemed  to  lie  so  far,  far  away  from  the  bitter  present ! 

The  Empress  laid  her  hand  upon  her  heart,  as  if^to  stifle  a  cry  of  an- 
guish ;  then  approaching  the  black  marble  table,  she  took  up  some  of 
the  dresses  that  lay  upon  it. 

With  a  voice  softer  and  more  pathetic  than  ever  they  h.ad  heard  be- 
fore, she  begged  the  companions  of  her  happier  days  to  accept  and  wear 
these  costly  things -as  a  .legacy  from  the  Emperor.  She  then  divided 
them  as  she  thought  best ;  asF^igning  to  each  lady  what  best  became  her, 
and  was  most  appropriate.   • 

Her  ladies  stood  weeping  around,  while  Maria  Thpre.«^a  besought  each 

*  Caroline  Pichler,     Memoirg :  Vol.  1,  p.  20. 


KING  OF  ROME.  157 

one  to  pardon  the  trouble  she  had  given  in  her  joyous  days,  for  the  sake 
of  the  misery  she  now  endured.  And  as  she  entreated  them  to  forget 
that  she  had  been  imperious  and  exacting,  they  knelt  weeping  at  her 
feet,  and  earnestly  implored  her  not  to  leave  ihemi 

The  Empress  sadly  shook  her  head.  "  I  am  no  longer  an  Empress," 
said  she,  "  I  am  a  poor,  humbled  woman,  who  needs  no  more  atiendanc« ; 
whose  only  aim  on  earth  is  to  serve  God,  and  die  in  his  favor  !  Pray 
for  the  Emperor,  dear  friends,  and  pray  for  me  also," 

Slowly  turning  away,  she  left  the  room,  and  entered  her  cabinet,  which 
opened  into  the  gray  bed-room. 

"  And  now  to  my  last  worldly  task,"  said  she,  as  ringing  a  silver 
hand-bell,  she  bade  a  page  conduct  Prince  Kaunilz  to  her  presence. 

The  page  opened  the  door,  and  the  Prince  came  in. 

The  Empress  greeted  him  with  a  silent  bend  of  her  head,  and  exhaus- 
ted, sank  into  an  arm-chair  that  stood  before  her  v/riting-desk.  Kaunilz, 
without  awaiting  permission,  took  a  seat  opposite. 

There  was  a  long  pause.  At  length  Kaunitz  said  :  "  Your  Majesty 
has  honored  me  by  commanding  my  presence  hither." 

— "  Yes,  I  sent  for  you  because  1  have  something  of  great  importanco 
to  say,"  replied  the  Empress. 

"  I  am  all  attention,"  replied  the  Minister..  "  For  it  is  worthy  of  your 
noble  self,  so  soon  to  stifle  your  grief  and  to  attend  to  the  duties  of  your 
crown.  You  have  sent  for  me  that  we  may  work.  And  your  Majesty 
has  done  well,  for  much  business  has  accumulated  on  our  hands  since 
we  last  held  a  cabinet  council." 

The  Empress  -shook  her  head.  "  Business  no  longer  troubles  me,"  re- 
plied she;  "I  have  sent  for  you  to  say  that  we  \\\\\  no  longer  work  to- 
gether." 

"Does  that  mean  that  your  Majesty  is  about  to  dismiss  me  in  dis 
grace  1  Are  you  no  longer  satisfied  with  your  Minister  1"  asked  Kau- 
nitz. 

— "  No,  Prince.  It  means  that  I  myself  mu^t  retire.^  from  the  bustle 
and  vanities  of  this  world.  My  hands  are  no  longer  fit  to  wield  a  scep- 
tre ;  they  must  be  folded  in  prayer — in  prayer  for  my  Emperor,  who 
was  called'away  without  receiving  the  sacraments  of  the  church.  My 
strength  has  gone  from  me  ;  my  crown  oppresses  me ;  I  can  no  longer 
be  an*  Empress." 

"Were  you  made  a  Sovereign  by  any  power  of  yours  1"  asked  Kau- 
nitz. "  Had  yon  the  choice  of  becoming  an  Empr,ess,  or  remaining  an 
Archduchess?  What  did  your  Majesty  say  to  mie  when  the  insoI.ent 
Carl  of  Bavaria  tried  to  wrest  your  imperial  crown  from  your  head  ? — '  I 
received  my  crown  from  the  hands  of  God,  and  I  must  defend  my  divine 
right!' — Floods  of  noble  blood  were  spilled  that  Maria  Theresa  might 
preserve  her  right ;  and  does  she  now  intend  to  dim  the  glory  of  her 
crown  by  sacrificing  it  to  her  sorrow  as  a  wife  1" 

— "I  am  tired  of  life  and  of  the  world,  and  I  intend  to  take  refuge 
from  their  troubles  in  a  cloister.     Say  no  more  !     I  am  resolved  to  go, 


158  cJUSEPH  THE  SECUKU 

and  the  palace  at  lospruck  shall  be  jny  convent.  There,  on  the  spot 
where  he  died,  will  1  make  my  vows  ;  and  as  an  Abbess  will  I  spend  my 
life  praying  that  God  may  give  him  eternal  rest.  My  vocation  as  a  Sov- 
ei»eign  is  at  an  end;  I  will  resign  my  sceptre  to  my  son/'*" 

"  That  means  that  your  Majesty  will  destroy  with  your  own  hands 
the  structure  you  had  commenced;  that  you  have  grown  faint-hearted 
and  are  unfaithful  to  your  duty  and  to  your  subjects." 

"  I  will  follow  the  steps  of  my  great  ance>tor,  Charles  V,"  cried  the 
Empress  with  energy.  "  I  lay  down  my  earthly  digniiy  to  humble  my- 
self before  God." 

"  And  your  Majesty  will  be  quite  as  unhappy  as  your  ancestor.  Do 
you  suppose  that  the  poor  monk  ever  was  able  to  forget  that  he  had 
been  a  great  Prince  ?" 

— "  And  yet  Charles  V.  remained  for  twenty  years  in  a  cloister." 

— "  But  what  a  life,  your  Majesty.     A  life  of  regret,  repentance,  and 
despair.     Believe  me,  it  is  far  better,  like  Cesar  to  die  pierced  by  twenty 
daggers  on  the  steps  of  a  throne,  than  voluntarily  to  descend  from  that- 
throne  to  enter  the  miserable  walls  of  a  cloister." 

"Better  perhaps  for  those  who  have  not  renounced  the  world  and  its 
pomps,"  cried  the  Empress,  raising  her  beautiful  eyes  to  heaven.  "But 
it  is  neither  saluty  nor  weariness  of  grandeur  that  has  driven  me  to  a 
cloister.  It  is  my  love  for  my  Emperoi',  my  yearning  to  be  alone  with 
God  and  with  the  past. 

"  But  your  Majesty,"  said  Kaunitz  with  emphasis,  "  you  will  not  bo 
alone  with  the  past;  the  maledictions  of  your  people  will  follow  you. 
Will  they  hold  you  guiltless  to  have  broken  your  faith  with  them  1" 

— "  I  shall  not  have  broken  my  faith  ;  I  shall'have  left  to  my  people 
a  successor  to  whom  sooner  or  later  they  will  owe  the  same  allegiance 
as  they  now  owe  to  me." 

"  But  a  successor  who  will  overturn  all  that  his  Mother  has  done  for 
Austria's  welfare.  Your  Majesty  laid  the  foundations  of  Austria's  great- 
ness. To  that  end,  you  called  me  to  the  lofty  station  which  I  now  oc- 
cupy. Remember  that  together  we  pledged  our  lives  and  love  to  Aus- 
tria. Be  not  untrue  to  the  covenant.  In  the  name  of  that  people  which 
1  then  represented,  I  claim  from  their  Einperoi\  /Maria  Theresa,  the  strict 
fulfillment  of  her  bond.  I  call  upon  her  to  be  true  to  her  duty  as  the 
Ruler*of  a  great  nation,  until  the  hand  of  God  releases  her  from  her 
crown  and  her  life."  ' 

While  Kaunitz  spoke,  Maria  Theresa  walked  up  and  down  the  room, 
■with  troubled  brow  and  folded  arms.  As  he  ceased,  she  came  and  stood 
before  him,  looking  earnestly  into  his  face,  which  now  had  cast  aside  its 
mask  of  tranquility,  and  showed  visible  signs  of  agitation, 

"You  are  a  bold  advocate  of  my  people's  claims ;"  said  she,  "a  brave 
defender  of  my  Ausitria.  I  rejoice  to  know  it,  and  never  will  take  um- 
brage at  what  you  have  so  nololy  spoken.     But  you  have  not  convinced 

me ;  my  sorrow  Speaks  louder  than  yqur  arguments.     You  have  termed 

- — — — ' J '- — ■ ^^^ — 

•  C«>xe.    History  of  the  House  of  Austria.    Tol  5,  p8g<!  13S. 


KING  OF  ROMi  lr>9 

me  '  your  Emperor.'  I  know  why  you  have  once  more  called  me  by 
th;it  (lattcriii"  title.  You  wish  to  remind  me  that  in  mounting  the  throne 
of  my  ancestors,  1  lost  the  right  to  grieve  as  a  woman,  and  pledged  my. 
Keif  to  gird  on  the  armor  of  manhood.  IJither'o  I  have  made  it  my 
pride  to  plan,  to  reign,  to  fight  like  a  man.  1  ha\e  always  tlared  that 
men  mi'^ht  say  of  me  that  my  hand  was  too  weak  to  grasp  the  reins  of 
power.  ■  But  God,  who  perhaps  gave  me  the  head  of  a  man,  while  leav- 
ing me  the  heart  of  a  woman,  hks  punished  me  i'or  my  ambition.  He 
has  left  me  to  learn  that  alas!  I  am  but  a  woman — with  all  the  weak- 
ness of  my  sex.  It  is  that  wonjanly  heart  which,  throbbing  with  an  an- 
guish  that  no  word^can  paint,  has  vanquished  wf  head  :  and  loud  above 
all  thoughts  of  my  duty  as  an  Empress  is  the  wail  of  my  sorrow  ks  a 
widow !  But  I  will  show  yon,  Kaunitz,  that  I  am  not  stubborn.  1  will 
communicate  my  intentions  to  no  one.  For  four  weeks  I  will  retire  to 
my  cloister.  Instead  of  naming  Joseph  my  successor,  1  will  appoint  him 
co-regent.  If,  after  four  weeks  of  probation,  I  still  feel  that  I  can  with- 
out guilt  retire  from  the  world,  shall  I  then  be  absolved  from  my  oath, 
and  suffered  to  lay  down  my  crown  without  reproach  from  my  faithful. 
Minister?" 

"  If  after  four  weeks  of  unlimited  power  delegated  to  the  Emperor  Jo- 
seph, your  Majesty  still  thinks  that  you  have  a  right  to  abdicate,"  re- 
plied kaunitz,  "1  shall  make  no  opposition  tO  your  Majesty's  choice  of 
a  private  vocation,  for  I  shall  feel  that  after  that  time,  remonstrance  with 
you  would  be  useless."  •,  * 

, — "  Well  then,  my  novitiate  shall  begin  to-morrow.  Apprise  the 
CourC  and  the  Foreign  represcntativefe  that  I  wish  to  meet  them  in  the 
throne-room,  where  in  their  presence  I  will  appoint  my  son  Emperor 
co-reeent." 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

THE    CO-KEGENT. 

Maria  Theresa  had  kept  her  word.  She  had  appointed  her  son  co- 
regent,  investing  the  young  Emperor  with  full  power  to  reign,  to  make 
laws,  to  punish,  to  reward,  and  to  govern  her  people,  while  she  retired 
to  the  Palace  of  Inspruck.  There  she  dwelt  in  strictest  privacy,  scarce- 
ly seeing  her  children,  and  restricting  her  intercourse  to  her  first  lady  of 
honor,  her  confessor,  and  a  few  chosen  friends^whom  she  sometimes  ad- 
mitted to  her  mournful  rooms. 

Joseph,  the  young  Emperor  of  four-and'-twenty  years,  was  now  mon- 
arch of  all  Austria,  Hungary,  Ijombardy,  and  the  Netherlands.    He  ha'^ 


1 1)0  JOSEPH  THE  SECOND. 

reached  the  goal  of  his  longings  for  power,  and  now  he  could  begin  to 
think  about  the  happiness  of  his  people. 

Since  the  intoxicating  moment  when  Maria  Theresa  in  presence  of  the 
whole  Court,  had  named  him  co-regent,  and  delivered  over  to  his  hands 
her  vast  empire,  Joseph  felt  as  it  he  had  suddenly  been  transported  to  a 
world  of  enchantment.  lie  had,  together  with  her  ministers,  dissuaded 
the  Empress  from  her  resolution  of  retiring  to  Inspruck  ;  but  even  as  he 
joined  his  voice  to  theirs,  his  heart  was  trembling  with  fear  lest  she 
should  yield.  He  felt  that  if  she  revoked  the^  power  she  had  conferred 
he  would  almost  die  with  disappointment.  But  the  Eaipress  remained 
firm,  and  her  son  was  triumphant. 

She  had  gone  from  the  throne  to  the  solitude  of  *erown  apartments, 
and  left  him  Lord  and  Emperor  of  Austria!     He  would  no  longer  be 
•  obliged  to  conceal  his  thoughts;  they  should  come  out  into  the  broad 
day  as  deeds,  for  he  was  sovereign  there  ! 

A  day  and  night  had  passed  by  since  his  mother  had  renounced  her 
rights  to  him.     He  could  not  sleep.     His  head  was  full  of  plans,  his 
heart  of  emotion.     He  dared  not  sleep,  he  who  was  the  guardian  of  mil- 
lions of  his  fellow-beings,  he  who  felt  ready  to  shed  his  heart's  l^lood  for 
,  their  good. 

On  the  first  day,  Joseph  had  been  in  council  with  the  ministers  of  state. 
The  will  of  the  deceased  Emperor  had  been  opened,  and  his  son  now 
learned  that  while  his  mother  was  conferring  upon  him  power,  his  father 
had  left  him  boundless  wealth.  The  Emperor  Erancis  had  left  his  eldest 
son  sol&  heir  to  his  estates  in  Hungary  and  Galicia,  to  his  jewels  and 
treasures,  and  also  to  the  millions  of  money  which  he  had  accumulated 
through  raanuflictures  and  trade.  He  had  also  left  to  his  eldest  son  the 
twenty-two  millions  of  coupons  which  he  had  taken  for  the  gold  v/hich 
he  had  advanced  to  the  state  for  the  prosecution  of  the  seven  -years'  war. 
Joseph  was  therefore  the  richest  prince  in  all  Gern>any,  for  his  father's 
vast  estates  amounted  to  one  hundred  and  fifty  nine  millions  of  guil- 
ders.* But. he  v;ho  had  been  so  intoxicated  with  joy  at  his  mother's  gift, 
seemed  scarcely  moved  at  all  as  he  received  the  tidings  ot  his  vast  inhe- 
ritance.. 

"  I  wish  that  my  father  had  bought  all  the  coupons  that  were  issued, 
and  that  they  were  all  mine ;"  said  he,  with  a  sigh. 

"  Your  Majesty  would  be  no  gainer  thereby,"  replied  the  Lord  Keep- 
er o£  the  Finances,  Von  Kinsky.  "These  coupons  bear  but  little  inter- 
est, and  paper  money  is  not  gold.     Its  value  is  nominal." 

"  But  it  has  one  merit,"  rejflied  the  Emperor  smiling,  "it  can  be 
burned.  Oh  !  what  a  miserable  invention  is  this  paper  money  which 
represents  value,  but  possesses  none.  Suppose  that  all  the  holders  of 
these  coupons  were  to  come  this  morning  and  ask  their  redemption, 
could  the  imperial  coflers  meet  their  obligations?" 

— "  Not  if  they  all  came  at  once,  your  Majesty." 

"  But  the  people  have  a  right  to  call   for   them,"  said  the  Emperor. 

*Hubner.    Life  of  Joseph  II.    Vol.  l.  p.  29. 


KiKG  OF  ROME.  IGl 

"In  lending  their  money,  they  showed  iheir  confidence  in  the  govern- 
ment, and  this  confidence  must  not  be  betrayed.  Let  the  twenty-two 
millions  of  coupons  be  put  in  a  package  and  brought  to  my  private 
apartments.     I  wish  to  dispose  of  them." 

Throughout  this  day,  Joseph  was  so  absorbed  by  business,  both  private 
and  onicial,  that  he  had  no  opportunity  of  exhibiting  himself  in  his  new 
character,  either  to  his  family  orjiis  subjects. 

But  on  the  second  day  of  his  co-regency,  the  voung  Emperor  appear- 
ed in  public.  On  this  day,  the  Viennese  celebrated  the  deliverance  of 
Vienna  from  the  Turks,  by  John  Tobieski  and  his  brave  Polish  legions. 
The  mourning  of  the  female  members  of  the  imperial  family  did  not^ 
permit  them  to  mingle  as  usual  with  the  people,  on  this  favorite  festival ; 
but  the  Emperor  resolved  to  show  himself  on  this  occasion  in  the  char- 
acter of  a  Sovereign.  All  Vienna  was  eager  to  see  him,  as  soon  as  it 
became  rumored  that  he  would  certainly  attend  the  mass  in  honor  of  the 
day  at  the  Cathedral  of  St.  Stephens. 

Meanwhile  the  young  Emperor  was  in  his  palace.  The  ante-rooms 
were  filled  with  petitioners  of  every  sort,  who,  through  bribes  ofi'eVed  to 
the  members  of  the  imperial  household,  had  penetrated  thus  far,  and 
were  now  awaiting  the  appearance  of  the  Emperor.  The  ante-rooms  of 
Maria  Theresa  had  always  been  thronged  with  these  petitioners,  and  now 
they  jostled  each  other,  without  ceremony,  each  one  hoping  to  be  re- 
marked by  the  Emperor  as  he  passed  on  to  his  carriage. 

Suddenly  the  commotion  ceased  and  took  the  form  of  a  panic,  as 
the  door  opened  and  the  valets  of  the  Emperor  came  forward,  their  hands 
filled  with  the  petitions  which  they  had  just  taken  in.  They  had  all 
been  refused  ! 

A  few  Hiotiienta  afterwards,  the  door  opened  again,  and  the  Lord- 
chamberlain,  Count  Rosenberg,  advanced  to  the  centre  of  the  room. 
There  was  no  necessity  for  the  pages  to  order  silence ;  for  the  crowd 
were  breathless"  with  expectation,  and  the  deepest  stillness  reigned 
throughout  the  thronged  rooms,  while  Count  Rosenbjerg  read  the  first 
greeting  of  the  Emperor  to  his  people. 

It  was  sharp,  and  to  the  point.  It  forbade,  in  strongest  terms,  all  in- 
direct eflbrts  to  obtain  promotion  or  pensions  ;  and  it  declared  once  for 
all  that  merit  alone  would  be  the  test  of  all  applications  presented  to 
the  Emperor  Joseph  II. 

When  the  Count  had  done  reading  the  proclamation,  the  valets  laid 
the  petitions  upon  a  table,  that  each  man  might  select  and  remove  his 
own  paper. 

"  Your  Majesty  has  made  many  enemies  today,"  saifl  Count  Ivosen- 
berg,  as  he  reentered  the  cabinet  of  the  Emperor.  " I  saw  many  a 
scowl  in  the  ante-room  as  I  passed  by  the  disappointed  multitude  that 
thronged  my  way." 

"  I  do  not  wish  the  friendship  of  intrigues  and  flatterers,"  replied  the 
Emperor,  with  a  merry  laugh.  "  If  my  proclamations  make  me  ene- 
mies, I  think  it  will  also  make  me  friends.    The  good  shall  be  satisfied 

H 


162  JOSEPH  THE  SECOND, 

with  my  rule;  for  during  my  long  silence  under  my  mother's  reign,  I 
have  observed  much,  and  thought  much.  And  now  the  day  has  come 
when  the  power  is  mine  to  reward  virtue  and  punish  vice." 

"  May  heaven  grant  that  your  Majesty's  day  draw  to  a  close  without 
clouds  or  storms,"  said  Rosenberg. 

The  Emperor  laughed  again,  "  What  do  you  fear,  ray  friend  ?"  ask- 
ed he.  "  Have  you  so  long  shared  with  me  my  hutthen  of  dissimula- 
tion that  you  are  frightened  to  see  our  shackles  falll  Are  you  afraid  of 
the  fresh  air,  because  we  wear  our  masks  no  longer  ?  Patience,  Rosen- 
berg, and  all  will  be  well  with  ns.  Our  dreams  are  about  to  be  fulfill- 
ed ;  what  we  have  whispered  together  in  the  twilight  of  mutual  trust, 
we  will  now  cry  out  with  fr§e  and  joyous  shouts,  '  Reform  !  Reform  !' 
My  people  have  prayed  quite  enough,  they  shall  now  learn  to  do  some- 
thing better — they  shall  think ;  they  have  been  long  enough  led  by 
faith,  like  little  children.  I  will  give  them  conformation,  and  they  shall 
enter  upou  the  responsibilities  of  manhood.  I  mean  to  be  a  blessing  to 
the  virtuous  and  a  terror  to  the  vicious." 

"Unhappily  there  is  more  evil  than  good  in  this  world,"  said  Count 
Rosenberg,  sighing,  "and  a  man,  though  he  seldom  can  count  his  friends, 
is  never  at  a  loss  to  count  his  enemies." 

"  I  do  not  understand  you,"  said  Joseph,  smiling,  "  I  intend  to  draw 
out  the  fangs  of  the  wicked,  so  that  they  shall  have  power  to  injure  no  one." 

"Your  Majesty  will  do  this  if  time  should  be  granted  ydu,"  said  the 
Count.     "  If ''' 

"  What  do  you  mean?"  cried  the  Emperor,  impatiently,  as  Rosenberg 
hesitated.     "Speak  on.     What  do  you  fear ?" 

"I  fear,"  whispered  the  Count,  "that  your  day  will  be  darkened  by 
bigots  and  priests.  1  fear  that  the  Empress  will  not  leave  you  freedom 
to  carry  out  your  reformation.  I  fear  that  your  enemies  will  dry  up 
her  tears,  and  unclasp  her  folded  hands,  to  place  within  their  grasp  the 
sceptre  to  which  your  manhood  gives  you  the  right.  I  fear  the  influence 
of  her  confessor,  Slather  Porhammer;  try  to  conciliate  him.  It  is  far 
better  to  win  over  our  opponents  by  forbearance  than  to  exasperate  them 
by  open  warfare." 

"  But  open  warfare  is  my  right,"  cried  Joseph,  "  and  I  am  powerful 
enough  to  despise  all  opponents,  as  well  as  strong  enough  to  pursue  my 
way  without  regard  to  the  wickedness  of  all  the  bigots  in  Christendom. 
Eace  to  face  shall  we  stand,  and  I  defy  them  all !  We  have  had  enough 
too  of  Spanish  etiquette  and  Italian  mummery  here.  Now  we  shall  have 
honest  German  customs ;  we  shall  be  Germans  in  thought,  in  speech, 
and  in  sentiment.  This  is  my  dream,  my  bright  and  beautiful  dream ! 
xVustria  shall  one  day  be  Germanised;  the  kingdoms  and  provinces 
which  compose  my  dominions  shall  no  longer  be  separate  nationalities, 
but  all  shall  be  the  branches  of  one  lofty  tree.  The  limbs  shall  loose 
their  names,  and  be  called  by  that  of  the  trunk  ;  and  the  trunk  shall 
bear  the  name  of  Germany.  High  above  the  boughs  of  this  noble  tree, 
which  shaU'exlend  from  Franco  to  Poland,  1  will  place  my  banner  and 


KING  OF  KUilE.  1  63 

my  crown,  and  before  their  might  all  Europe  shall  bow.     This  is  my 
dream,  KosenbGrg,  my  dream  of  future  greaineps!" 

— "  While  I  hoar  you  speak,  and  look  upon  your  Majesty's  counte* 
nance,  bright  with  inspiration,  I  ,100  bow  before  the  grandeur  of  youi- 
thought,  and  feel  as  if  this  god-like  dream  nuistsurelv  become  a  glorious 
truth!" 

"It  will  be  glorious  truth,  Rosenberg,"  exclaimed  the  Emperor. 
*' Why  should  Germany  be  severed  into  many  parts,  when  France  and 
Spain  are  each  a  kingdom  in  itself?  \Vhy  is  England  so  powerful? 
Because  Scotland  and  Ireland  have  cast  their  identity  into  hers!  Swe- 
den and  Norway,  are  they  not  one?,  And  Russia:  how  many  different 
races  own  the  sway  of  the  mighty  Czar  1  My  empire,  too,  shall  become 
strong  through  unity,  and  I  shall  not  only  be  Emperor  of  Austria,  but 
in  very  deed  and  truth.  Emperor  of  all  Germany." 

Rosenberg  shook  his  head  and  sighed.  "Ah,  your  Majesty,"  said  he, 
"you  are  so  young  that  you  believe  in  the  realization  of  mortal  dreams." 

— "  I  do ;  and  1  intend  to  work  out  their  realization  myself.  I  shall 
begin  by  being  German  myself.  I  intend  to  do  away  with  ceremony, 
priestcraft,  and  foreign  indueuce.  To  that  intent,  my  Lord  Chamberlain, 
you  will  see  that  all  foreigners  are  dismissed  from  the  palace  and  their 
places  supplied  by  Germans.  My  two  Italian  valets  1  make  t)ver  to 
Porharamer — nothing  but  (xerman  shall  be  spoken  at  Court.  I  will 
have  neither  French  nor  Italian  actors  here ;  Count  Dura/zo  shall  dis- 
miss his  foreign  troupes  and  employ  Germans  in  their  stead.*  Let  him 
sec  that  the  German  stage  flourishes,  and  does  honor  to  the  metropolis 
of  the- German  empire." 

"This  is  an  ordinance  that  will  enchant  the  youths  of  Vienna,"  replied 
the  Count,  gaily. 

"  Here  is  another  which  will  equally  rejoice  their  hearts,  as  well  as 
those  of  all  the  prettj'  women  in  Vienna,"  added  the  Emperor. 

"  Your  Majesty  means  to  revoke'the  power  of  the  Committee  on  Mo- 
rals?" 

— "Not  quite»  .1  dare  not  fly  so  soon  in  the  face  of  my  lady-mother's 
pet  institutions,"  returned  Joseph,  laughing,  "  but  I  shall  suspend  them 
until  lurther  notice.  Now  the  pretty  sinners  may  all  go  to  sleep  in 
peace;  now  the  young  girls  of  Vienna  may  walk  the  streets  without  be- 
ing asked  whither  they  go,  or  whence  they  come.  Reform  !  Reform  ! 
But  hark — there  are  the  church-bells,  I  go  to  show  myself  to  my  subjects. 
Come,  let  us  away." 

"But  your  Majesty,  has  not  made  your  toilet.  The  valets  are  now 
waiting  with  your  Spanish  court-dress  in  your  dressing-room." 

"I  make  them  a  present  of  it,"  said  the  Emperor.  "The  day  of 
Spanish  court-dresses  is  over.  The  uniform  of  my  regiment  shall  be  my 
court-dress  hereafter,  so  that  you  see  that  I  am  dressed  and  ready." 

— "Then  allow  me  to  order  that  the  carriage  of  state  be  prepared  for 
your  Majesty." 

*Grojs~Hoffiiiger.    History  of  Joseph  11.    Vol.  1,  p.  91. 


1 64  JOSEPH  THE  SECOND 

"  Order  that  the  carriage  of  stale  be  left  to  rot  in  the  Empress's  sta- 
bles," returned  Joseph.  The  day  of  etiquette,  also,  is  over.  I  am  a  man 
like  other  men,  and  have  as  much  use  of  my  limbs  as  they.  Let  crip- 
ples and  dotards  ride :  I  shall  go  to  church  on  foot." 

"  But  your  Majesty,"  remonstrated  Rosenberg,  "  what  will  the  peo- 
ple say  when  they  see  their  Emperor  stripped  of  all  the  pomp  of  his  high 
htation?  They  will  think  that  you  hold  them  too  cheaply  to  visit  them 
in  state." 

"No,  no:  my  people  will  feel  that  I  come  among  them,  not  with  the 
cold  splendor  of  my  rank,  but  with  the  warmth  of  human  sympathy  and 
human  na,ture;  and  they  will  greet  me  with  more  enthusiasm  than  if  I 
came  in  ray  carriage  of  state." 

The  Emperor  was  right.  The  people  who  had  thronged  every  street 
through  which  he  was  to  pass,  shouted  for  joy,  when  they  saw  the  ruler 
of  all  Austria  on  foot,  accompanied  by  a  few  of  his  friends,  making  his 
way  among  them,  with  as  much  simplicity  as  p,  burgher.  At  first,  as- 
tonishment had  repressed  the  enthusiasm  of  the  Viennese;  but  this  mo- 
mentary reticence  overcome,  the  subjects  of  Joseph  the  second,  rent  the 
air  with  their  cries  of  welcome,  and  pressed  around  his  path,  all  eager  to 
look  into  the"  face  of  the  Sovereign  who  walked  among  his  people  as  an 
equal  and  a  man. 

"  See  him, !  See  him!"  cried  they.  "  See  the  German  Prince  who  is 
not  ashamed  to  be  a  German  !  See  our  Emperor  in  the  uniform  of  the 
German  infantry  !    Long  live  the  Emperor.    Long  live  our  Fatherland!" 

''Long  live  the  Emperor  !"  Shouted  the  multitude,  while  Joseph,  his 
heart  overflowing  with  joy,  made  his  way  at  last  to  the  Cathedral  of  St. 
Stephen. 

And  now  the  trumpets  sounded,  and  the  mighty  organ  thundered  forth 
a  welcome,  while  cardinals  and  priests  lifted  their  voices,  and  the  clerg}' 
sang  the  "  Salvum  fac  imperaiorum  nostrum.''''  And  ever  and  anoli, 
through  the  open  windows  of  the  Cathedral,  the  people  shouted  still, 
*'  Long  live  the  Emperor  !     Long  live  our  Fatherland  !" 

Overcome  by  the  ovation,  Joseph  sank  down  upon  his  knees,  and  his 
heart  softened  by  the  scene,  the  circumstances,  and  the  sublime  chants 
of  the  Church,  he  prayed.  Clasping  his  hands  he  prayed  that  God  might 
give  him  strength  to  do  his  duty  to  his  subjects,  and  to  make  them 
happy. 

The  Salvum  fac  imperaiorum  over,  the  Mass  for  the  repose  of  the 
soul  of  Sobieski  and  his  twelve  thousand  Poles,  was  entoned.  The 
Emperor  prayed  for  them,  and  thanked  the  Almighty  Ruler  of  all  things 
for  the  rescue  they  had  brought  to  Vienna  in  her  hour  of  danger  from 
the  Infidel. 

This  was  the  first  public  act  of  Joseph's  reign  as  co-regent. 

The  Mass  over,  the  people  witnessed  another  public  act  of  the  young 
Smperor's  reign.  While  Joseph,  smiling  and  bending  his  head  to  the 
crowds  that  pressed  around  him,  was  quietly  pursuing  his  way  back  to 
the  palace,  a  procession  was  seen  coming  through  the  streets  which  at- 


KIN(i  UF  ROME.  ](jj 

tracted  the  attention  pf  the  uiultitnde  and  called  forth  their  wonder. 
First  came  a  file  of  soldiers  with  shouldered  carbines,  then  an  open  ve- 
hicle drawn  by  horses  from  the  imperial  stables,  then  another  file  of 
Koidiers.  Within  the  wagon 'sat  several  ofhcorR  of  the  Emperor's  house- 
hold, with  large  rolls  of  paper  in  their  hands,  and  behind  it  was  a  detach- 
ment of  cavalry  with  drawn  sabres. 

"  What  means  this  pageant?"  asked  the  peopl«  of  one  another. 

For  all  answer  to  this  question,  the  multitudes  pressed  forward  and 
fell  in  with  the  mysterious  procession. 

The  train  moved  on  until  it  arrived  at  an  open  market  place,  where  it; 
halted.  In  the  centre  of  the  square  was  a  heap  of  fagots,  near  which 
stood  two  men  with  lighted  torches  in  their  hands. 

"  An  execution  !''  cried  the  terror-stricken  multitude.  "  But  what  an 
executionJ     Who  was  to  be  burnt  at  the  stake  f 

While  the  crowd  were  murmuring  within  themselves,  the  officers  of 
the  Emperor's  household  advanced  to  the  pile  and  laid  the  rolls  of  papers 
which  they  had  brought,  upon  it.  They  then  signed  to  the  people  for 
silence,  and  one  of  the  officers  addressed  the  crowd. 

"The  Ernperor  Joseph,  co-regent  with  the  EmpTess  Maria  Theresa, 
sends  greeting  to  his  subjects,"  cried  he  in  a  clear,  loud  voice.  "  To-day, 
the  first  of  his  reign,  aud  the  festival  of  John  Sobieski  the  deliver  of  Vi^ 
enna,  he  wishes  to  prove  to  his  people,  how  much  he  loves  them.  Iti 
testimony  whereof,  he  presents  to  them,  twenty-two  millions  of  coupons 
bequeathed  to  him  by  his  father,  the  late  Emperor  Francis.  These  pa- 
pers are  the  coupons.  In  the  name  of  the  Emperor  Joseph,  approach, 
ye  torch-bearers,  and  kindle  the  pile,  that  the  people  of  Austria,  made 
richer  by  twenty-two  millions,  may  recognise  in  this  sacrifice,  the  love 
of  their  Sovereign." 

The  torches  were  applied,  and  high  in  the  air  soared  the  flames  that 
were  consuming  the  Emperor's  bequest,  while  tile  faces  of  the  multitude 
around  were  lit  up  by  the  glare  of  the  burning  pile. 

^  The  bells  of  the  churches  began  to  chime,  the  flames  soared  higher  and 
higher,  and  the  people  looked  on  in  wondering  gratitude  at  the  twenty- 
two  millions  of  guilders,  which  were  the  first  offering  of  Joseph  II.  to  his 
subjects.* 


CHAPTER  XXXIV 

HAROUK  AL  RASOIIID. 


The  Emperor  wa«i  alone  in  his  dressing-cabinet.  He  stood  before  a 
mirror,  covering  his  rich  blond  curls  with  a  large  wig,  which  fell  in  long 
ringlets  over  his  shoulders,  and  completed  the  very  singular  costume  in 
which  it  had  pleased  his  Majesty  to  array  himself, 

♦ITomiayer.    Austrian  Plutarcli,     First  Vol.,  p.  T29. 


The  Emperor  surveyed  himself  with  evident  gatisfuetion.  and  broke  out 
into  a  hearty  laugh.  '•  I  think,"  su'id  he,  "  that  in  this  dark-haired  fop, 
with  his  fashionable  costume,  no  one  will  recugniae  ihe  Empeior.  I 
suppose  that  in  this  di.-'guiso  I  may  go  nhdetectod  in  search  of  adven- 
tures. If  I  am  to  be  of  use  as  a  prince,  I  must  see  all  thini^s,  prove  all 
things,  ;ind  learn  all  things.  It  is  written  :  .'Prove  ail  things  and  hold 
1  Hat  to  that  which  is  good.'  I  am  afraid  that  I  will  not  hold  fast  to  much 
that  comes  under  my  observation." 

He  drew  back  from  the  mirror,  threw  over  his  shoulders  a  little  cloak, 
bordered  with  fur,  set  a  three-cornered  hat  upon  the  top  of  his  wig,  took 
lip  a  sniall  gold-headed  cane,  and  then  returned  to  survey  himself  a  se- 
cond time. 

— "  A  fop  of  the  latest  style,  that  is  to  say,  a  fool  of  the  first  water 
looks  out  upon  himself  fron-i  this  looking-gla.ss,"  said  he,  laughing.  "It 
would  be  an  afiVont  to  my  majesty  if  any  one  were  to  presume  to  sus- 
pect the  Emperor  under  this  absurd  disguise.  I  hope  I  shall  be  as  success- 
ful in  the  way  of  adventures,  as  was  my  predecessor  Haroun  Al  Raschid." 

He  drew  his  cloak  close  around  him,  and  stepped  from  a  little  private 
door  that  opened  from  his  dressing-room  into  the  corridor  which  led  to 
the  apartments  of  his  wife.  Retired  and  unobserved,  the  Empress  Jo- 
seph.'* lived  within  these  rooms,  which,  from  the  first  night  of  their  mar- 
riage, her  husband  had  never  re-entered.  The  corridor  was  empty.  Jo- 
sepli  could  therefore  pass  out  unobserved,  until  he  reached  a  privat-B 
staircase  leading  to  the  lower  floor  of  the  palace.  Once  there,  he  raised 
his  head,  and  stepped  boldly  out  into  the  hall.  The  porters  allowed 
him  to  pass  without  suspicion,  and  unrecognized,  the  young  adventurer 
reached  the  public  thoroughfares. 

''Now,"  thought  he,  with  a  sensation  of  childish  delight,  "now  I  am 
free,  a  man  just  like  other  men.  I' defy  any  one  to  see  my  divine  right 
upon  my  bro\7,  or  to  ob'serve  any  dilference  between  the  '  imperial  blue' 
of  my  eyes,  and  the  .ordinary  blue  of  those  of  my  subjects." 

"  Halt,  there!"  cried  a  threatening  voice  to  the  careless  pedestrian. 
"Out  of  the  way,  young  coxcomb-,  do  you  suppose  that  I  must  give 
way  to  youf 

"  Not  at  all,  your  worship,"  replied  Joseph  smiling,  as  with  an  active 
bound  he  cleared  the  way  for  a  colossal  carman,  who  covered  with  sweat 
and  dust,  was  wheeling  a  load  of  bricks  in  a  barrow. 

The  carman  stopped  and  surveying  the  Emperor  angrily,  cried  out  in 
a  voice  of  thunder,  "  What  do  you  mean  by  calling  me  '  Your  Worship  V 
Do  you  mean  to  insult  me 'because  you  are  wasting  your  father's  money 
on  your  pretty  per.son,  decked  out  like  a  flower-girl  on  a  holiday?" 

"  Heaven  forbid  that  I  should  seek  to  insult  you,"  replied  the  Em- 
peror. "  The  size  of  your  fists  is  enough  to  inspire  any  one  with  re- 
spect.    For  all  the  world,  I  would  not  offend  their  owner." 

"  Well,  then,  go  your  way,  you  whippersnapper,"  muttered  the  car- 
man, while  the  EmpeVor  congratulated  himself  upon  having  gotten  out 
of  the  scrape  without  detection. 


KING  UF  liOxME.  1  G7 

"  It  would  have^  been  n  pretty  anecdote  for  the  history  of  the  Empoior 
Joseph,  had  he  been  dibcovered  in  a  street-braw)  M-ith  a  cnrman,'*  said 
ho  to  himself.  "A  little  luore,  and  my  imperial  iiice  would  have  been 
pounded  into  jelly  by  that  Hercules  of  a  fidlow  !  ]t  i^j  not  such  an  easy 
matter,  as  I  had  supposed,  to  mix  on  equal  terms  with  other  men !  But 
1  will  learn  by  bitter  experience  how  to  behave." 

At  this  moment  Joseph  heard  the  sounds  of  weeping.  'J'urning,  he 
beheld  coming  towards  him,  a  youn^'  girl  of  about  sixteen,  whose  slight 
ligurejxin  spite  of  the  cqoI  autumn  day,  was  scarcely  covered  by  a  thin, 
patched  dress  of  dark  stuff.  An  old,  faded  silk  hankerchicf  was  thrown 
over  her  shoulders ;  her  sweet,  pale  face  was  bedewed  with  tears,  and 
her  lips  were  murmuring  gentle  complaints,  though  no  one  stopped  to 
listen.  On  her  right  arm  she  carried  a  bundle,  which  every  now  and 
thCTi  sl^  watched,  as  if  afraid  that  some  one  might  rob  her  of  its  trea- 
sures. 

Suddenly  a  kind  voice  whispered,  "  Why  do  you  weep,  my  child  ?" 

The  young  girl  started  and  met  the  gaze  of  a  young  man,  whose  blue 
eyes  were  fixed  upon  her  with  an  expression  of  tenderest  sympathy. 

"  I  weep,"  said  she,  "  because  1  am  unhappy,"  and  she  quickened  her 
stops  that  she  might  leave  him  behind.  But  the  Emperor  kept  paca 
with  her. 

— ''  Why  do  you  walk  so  flist.     Are  you  afraid  of  me  f 

"I  fear  the  Committee  of  Morals,"  said  she,  blushing.  "If  they 
should  see  me  with  you,  I  might  be  mistaken  for " 

-■ — "Have  you  ever  been  suspected  by  them?" 

"  Yes  sir,  although  I  have  always  tried,  when  I  was  in  the  streets,  to 
avoid  observation.  Go,  sir,  go.  Do  not  heed  my  tears.  I  am  accus- 
tomed to  misfortune." 

— "  But  it  is  said  that  the  Emperor  has  suspended  the  office  of  that 
committee." 

— "I  am  glad  of  it,"  replied  the  girl  "for  good  and  evil  are  alike  ex- 
posed to  suspicion,  and  I  would  like  to  walk  the  streets  without  fear  of 
being  taken  for  Avliat  I  am  not.'" 

-^"  Where  are  you  going,  child  ?" 

— "  I  am  going,"  replied  she  with  a  frcs^i  burst  of  tears,  *'  to  sell  the 
.clothes  I  carry  in  this  bundle." 

"  What  clothes,  child  ?" 

"  The  last  decent  covering  that  my  poor  mother  owns."  lobbed  the  girl. 

"  You  are  then  very  poorl"  asked  the  Emperor  softly. 

"  Very  poor.  We  have  often  been  hungry,  and  have  had  no  fixid  but 
our  oWn  bitter  tears.  These  are  the  last  clothes  we  have,  but  they  must 
go  for  bread,  and  then  perhaps  we  will  perish  of  cold." 

— "  Poor  girl,  have  you  no  father  V 

— "  My  father  died  in  defence  of  Austria  and  the  Empress,  and  as  a 
reward  of  his  devotion  to  his  sovereign,  his  wife  and  child  hare  been  left 
to  die  of  want." 

"Your  father  was  a  soldier?"  asked  the  Emperor,  much  .iffected. 


16«  JOSKfH    riJli  SKCUNl), 

— "  lie  was  an  officer,  who  served  with  clistinclion  in  the  seven  years 
war.  But  he  never  wks  promoted,  lie  died  for  Maria  Theresa,  and  his 
■widow  and  child  will  soon  fallow  him  to  the  grave." 

— "  Why  have  you  not  applied  to  the  Empress  for  relief?  Her  purse 
is  always  open  to  the  wants  of  the  needy." 

"To  obtain  anything  from  royalty,  Sir,  you  know  that  one  must  have 
influence,"  replied  the  girl,  bitterly.  We  have  no  induence,  nor  would 
we  know  how  to  intrigue  for  favor.'' 

"  Why  then  do  you  not  go  to  the  Emperor.  He  at  least  has  no  fancy 
for  intriguers  and  flatterers.     You  should' have  gone  to  him." 

"  To  be  haughtily  repulsed  f  said  she.  "  Oh,  Sir,  the  new  Emperor 
is  a  man  w^hose  only  love  is  a  love  of  power,  and  whose  only  pleasure  is 
to  make  that  power  felt  by  others.  Has  he  not  already  refused  to  listen 
to  any  petition  whatever?  Did  he  not  forbid  his  people  to  come  to  him 
for  favors  f 

"He  did  that,"  replied  Joseph,  "because  he  wished  to  do  justice  to 
all,  and  for  that  reason,  ho  has  done  away  with  all  presentation  of  peti- 
tions through  courtiers  or  other  officers  of  his  household.  But  he  has  ap- 
pointed an  hour  to  receive  all  those  who  will  present  their  petitions  in 
person." 

"So  he  has  said,"  returned  the  girl,  "but  no  one  believes  him.  His 
guards  will  turn  away  all  those  who  are  not  richly  dressed,  and  so  tho 
Emperor  will  have  promised  to  see  the  people,  though  the  people  will 
never  be  allowed  to  come  into  his  presence." 

"  Have  the  Austrians  so  little  faith  in  the  sincerity  of  the  Emperor?" 
asked  Joseph.     "  Do  they  think  that  his  heart " 

"  His  heart !"  exclaimed  the  girl.  "  The  Emperor  is  without  a  heart. 
Even  towards  his  mother,  he  is  said  to  be  undutiful  and  obstinate.  He 
hates  his  wife,  and  she  is  as  mild  as  an  angel.  He  whose  pleasure  it  is 
to  see  an  Empress  at  his  feet,  do  you  suppose  that  he  will  sympathise 
with  the  misfortunes  of  his  subjects  ?  No,  no ;  he  has  already  stopped 
all  the  pensions  which  the  generous  Empress  had  given  from  her  private 
purse." 

— "  Because  he  will  bestow  them  upon  worthier  objects." 

— "  No,  no ;  it  is  because  he  is  a  miser." 

"  He  a  raiser !"  cried  Joseph.  "  Did  he  not  some  days  ago  burn  up 
twenty -two  millions  of  coupons  ?" 

"  It  was  said  so;  but  no  one  saw  them  ;  and  it  is  whispered  that  the 
twenty-two  millions  were  nothing  but  pieces  of  waste  paper." 

The  Emperor  was  speechless.  He  looked  at  his  young  traducer  with 
an  expression  of  real  horror. 

"  How  ?"  at  length  said  he  in  a  voice  choked  by  emotion,  "  the  Em- 
peror.is  suspected  of  such  baseness !" 

"  He  is  known  to  be  sdfish  and  miserly,"  replied  his  tormentor. 

Joseph's  eyes  flashed  with  anger;  but  conquering  his  bitterness,  he 
constrained  himself  to  smile. 

"  My  child,"  said  he,  "  you  have  been  deceived.     If  you  knew  the 


I  KING  OF  ROME.  H\\) 

Emperor,  you  would  find  that  ho  is  generous  and  ready  to  do  justice  to 
.'ill  men.  Go  home  and  write  your  petition  ;  and  come  to-day  at  noon, 
to  the  imperial  palace.  You  will  see  that  the  guards  will  allow  you  to 
pass,"  and  a  servant  will  be  there  to  conduct  you  to  me.  I  myself  will 
present  your  petition,  and  I  know  that  the  Emperor  will  not  refuse  a 
pension  to  the  widow  and  child  of  a  brave  Austrian  ofilcer." 

The  girl's  eyes  filled  with  tears,  as  she  attempted  to  thank  her  uu- 
known  benefactor. 

iBut  the  Emperor  who  had  all(fwed  her  to  abuse  him  without  interrup- 
tion, would  not  list<?n  to  her  praises. 

"  Your  mother  is  sick,  and  needs  care,"  said  he.  "  Go  home  and  do 
not  sell  your  clothes,  for  you  will  need  them  to  visit  the  Emperor. 
How  much  did  you  expect  to  get  for  them?" 

. — "  I  expected  seven  ducats,  for  a  portion  of  this  clothing  is  my  moth- 
er's wedding-dress." 

"Then,  my  child,  let  me  beg  you  to  accept  twelve,"  said  he,  drawing 
out  his  purse.  "I  hope  they  will  suffice  for  your  wants  until  the  Em- 
peror fills  them  all." 

The  young  girl  bent  over  and  kissed  Joseph's  hand.  "  Oh,  Sir,"  said 
she,  "  you  save  us  from  death,  and  we  have  nothing  to  offer  in  return, 
but  our  poor  prayers," 

"  Pray  for  the  Emperor,"  said  he  gently.  "  Pray  God  that  he  may 
win  the  love  of  his  people.  Earewell !  1  will  wait  for  you  to-morrow 
at  noon." 

With  these  words,  Joseph  quickened  his  pace,  and  was  soon  lost  to 
view. 

"  My  second  adventure  !"  thought  he.  "I  must  confess  that  it  is  not 
very  flattering  to  walk  incognito  about  the  streets  and  hear  the  senti- 
ments of  one's  own  subjects.  How  often  do  kings  mistake  the  murmur- 
int's  of  discontent  for  the  outpourings  of  joy.  It  is  so  pleasant  to  believe 
in  the  love  of  our  subjects,  and  to  shut  our  eyes  to  all  doubts  of  their 
loyalty.  But  I  am  resolved  to  see  and  judge  of  the  people  for  mysdf. 
My  path  will  often  be  beset  with  thorns,  but  Fate  has  not  made  me  a 
Monarch  for  my  own  good  ;  I  am  an  Emperor  for  the  good  of  others. 
That  child  has  revealed  some  painful  truths  to  me ;  it  would  seem  as  if 
I  were  fated,  forever  to  be  misjudged." 


17U  JUSKl'li    I'fcth  SKCDND. 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

THE    DISGUrSli   REMOVED. 

At  micl-day  the  Emperor  re  entered  the  pahice  gates.  Tliis  time  he 
came  through  the  pruicipal  entrance,  feeling  quite  secure  in  his  disguise. 

He  proceeded  at  once  to  the  hall  of  reception,  wondering  whether  his 
young  protegee  would  present  herself  as  he  had  requested  her  to  do'. 

The  sentries  allowed  him  to  p,ass,  supposing  him  to  be  one  of  those 
about  to  seek  an  audience  with  the  Emperor.  Unsuspected  he  reached 
the  hall. 

Yes,  there  was  his  little  accuser.  She  stood  trembling  and  blushing 
in  one  corner  of  the  room,  holding  in  her  hand  a  paper.  As  she  recog- 
nised her  unknown  protector,  blushing  still  more  deeply,  she  hastened 
to  meet  him,  and  timidly  gave  him  her  hand. 

"  Oh,  sir,"  said  she,  "you  have  been  true  to  your  word.  I  was  so 
afraid  you  would  forget  me  that  I  was  several  times  ou  the  point  of 
leaving  this  grand  place.  I  feel  lonely  and  ashamed  ;  for  you  see  that 
no  one  is  here  but  myself.  Nobody  trusts  the  Emperor.  And  I  who 
am  here,  will  surely  be  repulsed  ;  he  will  never  be  so  kind  as  you  have 
been  to  a  poor,  friendless  girl.  My  mother  has  no  hope  ;  and  if  she  has 
sent  me  to  the  palace,  it  was  that  I  might  see  you  again,  and  once  more 
pour  forth  my  gratitude  for  your  kindness.  [^  you  would  add  another 
to  the  generous, gift  you  have  already  bestowed,  tell  me  your  name,  that 
my  mother  and  1  may  beg  God's  blessing  upon  it,  and  then  let  me  go, 
for  I  feel  that  my  visit  here  will  be  vain  1" 

"  My  deal- child,"  said  Joseph  laughing,  "if  all  the  Emperor's  oppo- 
nents \vere  as  headstrong  as  you,  the  poor  man  would  have  but  little 
hope  of  ever  gaiuing  the  good-will  of  his  subjects.  But  I  intend  to  prove  . 
to  you  that  you  are  unjust.  Give  me  your  petition.  I  myself  will  pre- 
sent it  for  you.  Wait  awhile,  and  I  will  send  a  messenger  who  will 
conduct  you  to  the  Emperor.  Follow  him  and  fear  nothing,  for  I  will 
be  there  too,  ixnd  there  1  will  tell  you  my  name.     Au  revoir.'^ 

The  young  girl  looked  anxiously  after  him  as  he  disappeared,  and 
once  more  betook  herself 'to  the  window.  Gradually  the  room  filled 
with  a  sad,  humble,  and  trembling  crowd,  such  as  often  throngs  the  ante- 
rooms of  princes  and  nobles  :  a  crowd  which  with  tearful  eyes  and  sor- 
rowing hearts,  so  often  returns  home  without  succor  and  without  hope. 

But  the  peoplp  who  were  assembled  in  this  hall  of  reception  seemed 
more  sanguine  than  is  usual  with  petitioners  for  imperial  favor.  They 
phattcd  together  of  their  various  expectations;  they  spoke  of  the  Empe- 


KING  OF  KUilK.  171 

ror's  Ijencnolence;  and  all  seemed  to  hope  thai  they   would  be  hoard 
with  patience,  and  favorably  answered. 

A  door  opened,  and  an  officer  entered.  He  looked  sharply  around 
the  room,  and  then  went  directly  to  the  window  where  the  }oiing  girl 
with  a  beating^  heart  was  listening  to  the  praises  of  that  Emperor  whom 
in  her  soul  she  believed  to  be  a  tyrant. 

"The  Emperor  will  be  here  presently,"  said  the  officer  in  answer  to  a 
storm  ofenijuiries  from  every  side.  "  But  I  havt^  been  luderod  first  to 
conduct  this  young  lady,  the  daughter  of  a  .deceased  oflicer,  to  his  Ma- 
jesty's presence." 

She  followed  him,  silent  and  anxious.  They  went  tlirough  suites  of 
splendid  rooms,  whose  costly  decorations  struck  the  child  of  poverty 
with  new  dismay.  At  last  they  stopped  in  a  richly  gilded  salon,  cover- 
ed with  a  carpet  of  Gobelin,  and  hung  with  the  same  rich  tapestry. 

"  Remain  here,"  said  the  officer,  ■"  while  I  announce  you  to  his  Ma- 
jesty." 

He  disappeared  behind  the  velvet  portiere,  and  the  frightened  girl  re- 
mained with  a  crowd  of  richly-dressed  nobles,  whose  guld-embroidered 
court  dresses,  and  diamond  crosses,  almost  blinded  her  with  their 
splendor. 

Once  more  the  j^orture  was  drawn  aside,  and  the  officer  beckoned  tho 
girl  to  advance.  iShe  did  'so  with  trembling  limbs  and  throbbing  heart. 
Tho  hangings  fell,  and  she  was  in  the  dreaded  presence  of  the  Emperor. 
He  stood  near  a  window  with  his  back  towards  her :  a  tall,  graceful 
man,  in  a  white  uniform. 

The  poor  girl  felt  as  if  she  woi>ld  cease  to  breathe,  for  this  was  the  de- 
cisive moment  of  her  young  life.  The  Emperor  could  either  consign 
her  to  misery,  or  he  could  raise  her  to  comfort,  and  wipe  away  the  tears 
of  her  dear,  sufiering  mother. 

lie  turned  and  looked  at  her  with  a  benevolent  smile.  "  Come  hither, 
ray  child,"  said  he.     "  You  Avould  speak  with  the  Emperor.     I  am  he." 

The  girl  uttered  a  stified  cry,  and  falling  on  her  knees,  she  hid  her 
deathdike  face  m  her  hands.     For  she  had  recognised  her  unknown  pro-  • 
Hector.     Yes,  this  noble  man,  who  had  proflcred  help,  and  promised  j>ro- 
tection,  this  was  the  Emperor,  and  to  his  face  she  had  called  him  a  miser 
and  a  tyrant! 

She  never  for  one  moment  thought  whether  he  w'ould  punish  her  in- 
solence ;  she  had  but  one  feeling,  that  of  unspeakable  anguish  for  having 
wounded  a  noble  and  generous  heart.  This  alone  caused  her  shame  and 
grief. 

The  Emperor  approached,  and  looked  with  tenderness  at  the  kneeling 
maiden,  through  whose  fingers  her  tears  were  flowing  in  streams. 

— "  I  have  read  your  petition,  and  have  fonnd  that  you  spoke  the 
truth.  From  this  day  your  father's  pay  falls  to  your  mother  ;  and  at  her 
death  it  will  revert  to  you.  I  beg  you  and  your  mother  to  forgive  the 
tardiness  of  this  act  of  justice,  for  neither  the  Empress  nor  I  had  ever 
heard  that  your  Gather  had   any  family.     Once  move  forgive  us  for  al\ 


172  JOSEl»B  THJi  SECUiNl) 

lliat  you  have  endured  since  his  death.  And  now,  my  child,  rise  fiorai 
your  knees ;  for  human  beings  should  kneel  before  God  alone.  Dry  your 
tears,  and  hasten  to  your  mother.  Tell  her  that  the  Emperor  is  not  as 
heartless  as  he  has  been  pictured  toiler  by  his  enemies." 

"  No,  no,"  cried  she,  "  I  cannot  rise  until  ray  Sovereign  has  forgiven 
my  presumption  and  my  calumnies." 

"  They  are  forgiven ;  for  what  could  you  know  of  me,  you  poor  child, 
but  what  you  had  been  told  ?  But  now  you  know  me  yourself;  and  for 
the  future  if  you  hear  me  traduced,  you  will  defend  me,  will  you  not?"* 

He  reached  out  his  hand,  which  she  kissed  and  l)edewed  with  her  tears. 

The  Emperor  raised  her  tenderly  himself.  "  Be  comforted  ;  for  if  you 
cry  so  bitterly,  my  courtiers  will  think  that  I  have  been  unkind  to  you. 
You  told  me  just  now  that  you  wished  to  know  the  name  of  your  pro- 
tector that  you  might  pray  for  him.  Well,  my  child,  pray  for  me — my 
name  is  Joseph." 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

ROSARY  AND  SCEPTRE. 

The  four  weeks  to  which  Maria  Theresa  had  limited  her  novitiate  had 
almost  expired.  She  still  secluded  hersglf  from  the  world,  and  in  the 
deep  retirement  of  her  palatial  cloister,  she  would  suffer  no  mention  of 
worldly  affairs  in  her  presence. 

•  In  vain  her  confessor  and  her  attendants  strove  to  awaken  her  interest 
to  the  dissatisfaction  of  the  people  with  the  wild  projects  of  reform  that 
threatened  the  subversion  of  all  social  order.  From  the  day  of  her  re- 
tirement, Maria  Theresa  had  forbidden  the  slightest  allusion  to  politics. 
Her  confessor  had  on  one  occasion  ventured  a  hint  on  the  subject  of  the 
changes  which  were  being  made  by  the  Emperor,  but  the  Empress  had 
turned  her  Hashing  eyes  upon  him  at  once,  and  had  reminded  him  that 
as  the  servant  of  the  Lord,  he  was  there  to  exhort  and  to  pray,  not  to 
concern  himself  about  the  trivialities  of  this  world. 

On  aiTother  occasion  the  Countess  Euchs  had  presumedtb  mention  the 
changes  in  the  imperial  household.  The  Empress  interrupted  her  cold- 
ly, faying  that  as  she  had  not  lost  her  relish  for  the  vanities  of  the  court, 
the  Countess  must  absent  herself  until  further  orders. 

This  severity  had  put  an  end  to  all  plans  for  inducing  the  Empress  to 
resume  the  cares  of.enipire.  She  was  now  at  liberty  to  weep  and  pray 
without  distrajction.     Even  her  children,  who  came  daily  to  kiss  her 

*  Historical. 


KIIfG  OF  ROME.  173 

hand,  were  allowed  no  conversation  but  that  which  turned  upon  relicion. 
When  the  morning  services  were  ended,  they  silently  withdrew  to  their 
rooms. 

For  a  few  days  past,  the  Archduchess  Christine  had  absented  herself 
from  this  mournful  levee.  On  the  first  day  of  her  nonappearance  the 
Empress  had  not  appeared  to  remark  her  absence.  But  on  thfe  second 
day,  her  eyes  wandered  sadly  from  her  prayer-book  to  her  children,  and 
her  lips  seemed  ready  to  frame  some  question.  Instead  of  speaking,  she 
bent  her  head  over  her  rosary,  and  strove  to  pray  with  more  devotion 
than  usual. 

Finally  came  a  third  day,  and  still  Christine  was  absent.  The  Em- 
press could  no  longer  master  her  maternal  anxiety,  and  as  the  Arch- 
duchess  Elizabeth  approached  to  kiss  her  hand,  she  spoke. 

"  Where  is  Christine  ?     Why  is  she  not  with  you  ?" 

"  My  sister  is  sick,  your  Majesty,"  replied  the  Archduchess ;  and  as 
though  she  feared  to  displease  her  mother  by  further  speech,  she  bent 
her  head  and  withdrew. 

The  next  day  when  the  imperial  children  entered  their  mother's  apart- 
ment, her  prayer-book  was  lying  on  the  table,  while  she,  pale  and  agita- 
ted, was  pacing  the  room  with  hasty  steps.  She  received  her  family 
witli  a  slight  motion  of  the  head,  and  looked  anxiously  towards  the  door 
until  it  had  closed  after  the  entrance  of  little  Marie  Antoinette.  Then- 
the  Empress  sighed,  and  turned  away  her  head  lest  her  children  should 
see  the  tears  that  were  gushing  from  her  eyes. 

But  when  mass  Mas  over,  and  little  Marie  Antoinette  approached  her 
mothp^r,  she  took  the  child  up  in  her  arms,  and  tenderly  kissing  her  cheek, 
said,  "  How  is  Christine,  my  darling?" 

"Sister  Christine  is  very  sick,  imperial  maniva,"  replied  the  child,*'and  she 
cries  all  day  long.     But  she  loves  you  very  dearly,  and  longs  to  see  you." 

The  Empress  put  down  her  little  daughter  without  a  word,  and  as  if 
she  sought  to  mortify  her  worldliness,  she  signed  to  all  present  to  with- 
draw, and  falling  upon  her  knees,  prayed  long  and  fervently.-^ 

An  hour  or  two  after,  she  sent  for  her  confessor.  As  he  left  her  room 
and  passed  through  the  ante-room,  the  attendants  saw  that  his  counte- 
nance looked  joyous  in  the  extreme.  They  flocked  to  hear  if  there  was 
any  hope  of  convincing  the  Empress  of  the  necessity  of  her  return  to 
the  world. 

"  I  think  there  is  much,"  replied  the  father.  "  God  be  thanked,  her 
maternal  love  has  overcome  the  dangerous  lethargy  into  which  sorrow  had 
plunged  our  beloved  Sovereign.  For  a  time  she  was  overcome  by  her 
grief  as  a  widow;  but  she  begins  to  feel  that  her  children  have  a  right 
to  her  counsels  and  care.  Later  she  will  recognise  the  claims  of  her 
people,  and  Austria  wMll  be  saved  from  the  mad  schemes  of  that  unbe- 
lieving dreamer,  her  son." 

"  Do  you  really  believe  that  her  Majesty  will  return  to  the  throne?" 
asked  the  Countess. 

— '■  I  do.    She  besought  me  in  trcinbling  tones  to  tell  her  something 


1 74  J03EPH  THE  SECOND. 

of  her  beloved  child,  and  I  did  nothing  to  tranquilize  her ;  *lor  she  has  no 
right  to  seclude  herself  from  her  people.  Maria  Theresa  is  a  greater 
sovereigu  than  her  son  will  ever  be,  tind  Austria  cannot  aflord  to  lose 
her  now.  She  will  visit  her  daughter  to-day.  TeJl  the  Archdnclicssnot 
to  fear  her  brother's  opposition;  for  her  mother,  once  resolved  to  her 
people,  will  see  that  her  own  daughters  are  not  made  Avretched  by  a  ty- 
rannical brother.     TJie  Priacess  will  marry  her  lover." 

— "1  hasten.     How  soon  will  the  Empress  come?" 

— "She  will  surely  be  there  before  many  hours — Solitude  is  not  con- 
genial to  Maria  Theresa's  heart,  her  active  mind  craves  occupation,  and 
her  grief  requires  it.  Let  us  appeal  to  her  atiections  through  the  ill- 
ness of  her  child,  and  complete,  reaction  will  ensue.  If  once  we  can  per- 
suade her  to  quit  her  seclusion,  her  cloister-dream  is  over.  Let  us  all 
work  in  concert  to  restore  her  to  the  world.  It  is  not  the  sovereign  of 
a  great  nation  who  has  a  right  like  Mary,  to  sit  at  the  feet  of  Jesus— i-Go 
at  once.  Count  Bathiany,  and  may  God  bless  the  eflbrts  we  are  making 
to  restore  our  Empress  to  her  sense  of  duty.  Church  and  state  are  alike 
endangered  by  the  fatal  step  she  has  taken." 


CHAPTER    XXXVII. 

THE  DIFFERENCE  BETWEEN  AN  ABBESS  AND  AN  EMPRESS. 

It  was  the  hour  of  dinner.  Complete  silence  reigned  throughout  the 
imperial  palace,  except  in  the  halls  and  stairways  that  led  from  the  im- 
perial dining-hall  to  the  kitchens  below.  Both  lay  far  from  the  apart- 
ments of  the  Empress-Abbess.  She  therefore  felt  that  she  could  visit 
her  sick  child  without  fear  of  observation.  <-She  had  just  concluded  her 
own  solitary  dinner,  and  was  trying  to  collect  her  thoughts  for  prayer. 
In  vain  !  They  would  wander  to  the  sick  bed  of  her  daughter,  whom, 
fancy  pictured  dying  without  the  precious  cares  that  a  mother's  hand 
alone  is  gifted  to  bestow.  Maria  Theresa  felt  that  her  heart  was  all  too 
storm-tost  for  prayer.  She  closed  her  book  with  a,  pang  of  self-reproach, 
and  rose  from  her  arm-chair. 

"  It  is  useless,"  said  she  at  last.  "I  must  obey  the  call  of  ray  re^)elli- 
ous  heart,  and  tread  again  the  paths  of  earthly  love  and  earthly  cares.  »I 
cannot  remain  here  and  think  that  my  Christine  longs  for  her  mother's 
presence,  and  that  I  may  not  wipe  her  tears  away  v/ith  my  kisses  !  It 
is  not  only  my  right,  it  is  my  duty  to  tend  my  sick  child.  I  am  not  in 
the  right  path,  or  a  merciful  God  would  strenghten  me  to  tread  it  cour- 
ageously.    I  must  rpplace  their  father  to  my  children.     Poor  orphans  ! 


KIKG  OF  ROME.  '  173 

They  need  twice  the  love  I  gav^  before,  and  God  forgive  me !  I  was 
about  to  abandon  them  entirely.  It  is  no  injury  to  the  memory  of  my 
Francis,  for  through  his  children,  1  will  but  love  him  the  more.  How  I 
long  once  more  to  press  them  to  my  heart !  Yes — I  must  go,  and  this 
is  the  hour — I  will  pass  by  the  private  corridors,  and  surprise  my  Chris- 
tine in  her  solitude." 

With  more  activity  than  she  had  been  able  to  summon  to  her  help 
since  the  Emperor's  burial,  i\Iaria  Theresa  hastened  to  her  dressing-room 
and  snatching  up  her  long  black  cloak,  threw  it  around  hur  person.  As 
she  was  drawing  the  hood  over  her  face,  she  caught  a  glimpse  of  herself 
in  a  mirror  close  by.  She  was  shocked  at  her  own  image  ;  her  flice  so 
corpse-like,  her  cloak  so  like  a  hideous  pall. 

"  I  look  like  a  ghost,"  thought  the  Empress.  "  And  indeed  I  am  dead 
to  all  happiness  for  I  have  buried  my  all  1  But  Christine  will  be  shock- 
ed at  my  loolcs.     I  must  not  frighten  the  poor  child." 

And  actuated  partly  by  maternal  love,  partly  by  womanly  vanity, 
Maria  Theresa  slipped  back  the  ugly  hood  that  hid  her  white  forehead, 
and  opened  the  black  crape  collar  that  encircled  her  neck,  so  that  some 
portion  of  her  throat  was  visible. 

"I  will  always  be  my  Franz's  poor  widow,"  said  the  Empress  while 
she  arranged  her  toilet,  *'  but  1  will  not  affright  my  children  by  my  dress 
— Now  I  look  more  like  their  mother.     Let  me  hasten  to  my  child." 

And  having  again  flung  back  the  hood  so  that  some  portions  of  her 
beautiful  hair  could  be  seen,  she  left  the  room.  She  opened  the  door 
softly  and  looked  into  the  next  apartment.  She  had  well  calculated  her 
time,  for  no  one  was  there ;  her  ladies  of  honor  had  all  gone  to  dinner. 

"  That  is  pleasant,"  said  she.  "  I  ani  glad  not  to  meet  their  wondering 
faces;  glad  not  to  be  greeted  as  an  Empress,  for  I  am  an  Empress  no 
longer.  1  am  a  poor  humble  widow  fulfilling  the  only  earthly  duties 
now  left  me  to  perform." 

She  bent  her  head  and  went  softly  through  the  second  ante-room  to 
the  hall.  Again,  all  was  empty  and  silent;  neither  page  nor  sentry  nor 
lackey  to  be  seen.  She  knew  not  why,  but  a  feeling  of  desolation  came 
over  her.  She  had  bidden  adieu  to  the  etiquette  due  to  her  rank,  but 
this,  she  thought,  was  carrying  the  point  too  far. 

"  If  I  had  had  the  misfortune  to  fiiU  suddenly  ill,"  said  she,  "  I  must 
have  called  in  vain  for  succor.  No  one  i-^  by  to  hear  my  voice.  But  at 
least  there  must  be  sentries  in  the  other  hall." 

No  !  That  hall  too  was  empty.  No  lackeys  were  there,  no  guards ! 
For  the  first  time  in  her  life,  Maria  Theresa  was  out  of  hearing  of  any 
human  being,  and  she  felt  a  pang  of  disappointment  and  humiliation. 
She  started  at  the  sound  of  her  own  footsteps,  and  walked  faster,  that 
.she  might  come  within  sight  of  some  one — any  one.  Suddenly,  to  her 
joy,  she  heard  the  sound  of  voices,  and  she  paused  to  listen. 

The  door  of  the  room  whence  the  voices  were  heard  was  slightly  ajar, 
and  the  Empress  overheard  the  following  conversation.  The  speakers 
were  I'atlicr  Porharamer  and  the  Countess  Fuchs, 


17G  JOSEPH  THE  SECOND 

"  Do  not  despair,"  said  the  fathei*  "  the  Empress  is  forgiving  and 
magnanimous,  and  when  she  shall  have  admitted  you  again  to  her  pre- 
sence, it  will  be  your  duty  to  aid  all  those  who  love  Austria,  in  using 
your  influence  to  recall  her  Majesty  to  the  throne.  Woe  to  Austria  if 
she  persists  in  elevating  her  grief  above  her  duty  as  a  sovereign  !  Woe 
to  the  nation  if  her  son,  that  rebellious  child  of  the  Church,  reign  over 
this  land  !     His  insane  love  of  novelty " 

"For  heaven's  sake,  Father,"  replied  the  Countess,  "say  nothing 
against  the  Emperor.  His  mother's  will  has  placed  him  on  the  throne, 
and  wfe  must  submit." 

The  Empress  heard  no  more.  With  noiseless  tread  she  hurried  on, 
until  she  turned  the  corner  of  a  side-hall,  and  then  she  relaxed  her  pace. 
She  pondered  over  what  she  had  just  heard,  and  it  did  not  contribute  to 
tranquilize  her  mind. 

"What  can  he  be  doing?"  thought  she.  "What  are  those  mad 
schemes  of  which  my  friends  have  tried  to  apprize  me?  He  was  ever 
self  willed  and  stubborn ;  ever  inclined  to  skepticism.  Alas !  alas !  I 
foresee  sad  days  for  my  poor  Austria  !" 

At  that  moment  the  Empress  had  gained  a  small  landing  which  led  to 
a  staircase  which  she  had  to  descend.  She  was  about  to  proceed  on  her 
Avay  when  she  perceived  a  man,  whose  back  was  turned  towards  her, 
seated  on  the  topmost  step.  He  was  so  quiet  that  she  thought  he  was 
asleep.  But  as  her  foot  touched  him,  he  turned  carelessly  round,  and 
perceiving  the  Empress,  he  rose  slowly,  and  bent  his  head  as  though  to 
any  lady  he  might  pass. 

Maria  Theresa  was  astounded.  She  knew  not  what  to  think  of  the  ir- 
reverent bearing  of  this  man,  who  was^no  other  than  Stockel,  one  of  the 
servants  whose  duty  it  had  been,  for  thirty  years,  to  light  the  fires  in  her 
dressing-room. 

He  had  been  accustomed  every  morning  to  appear  before  his  impe- 
rial lady,  in  winter  to  see  that  her  fires  were  burning,  in  summer  to  dis- 
tribute her  alms.  Stockel  was  from  Tyrol ;  he  had  been  a  fovorite  ser- 
vant of  the  Empress  ;  and  being  an  upright  and  intelligent  man,  his  word 
was  known  \o  have  some  weight  with  her.*  Stockel  had  been  the  most 
respectful  and  loyal  of  servants;  the  appearance  alone  of  the  Empress 
had  always  made  his  old  wrinkled  face  light  up  with  joy.  How  did  it 
happen  that  now,  when  he  had  been  parted  from  her  for  four  weeks,  he 
seemed  indifferent? 

"  He  is  offended  because  I  have  never  sent  for  him,"  thought  the  kind- 
hearted  Empress  ;  "  I  must  try  to  appease  him." 

"I  am  glad  to  see  you,  Stockel,"  said  she,  with  one  of  her  own  be- 
witching smiles,  "  it  is  long  since  you  have  visited  me  in  my  room.  I 
am  such  a  poor,  sorrowing  widow,  that  I  have  not  had  heart  enough  to 
think  of  the  poverty  of  others." 

Stockel  said  nothing.  He  turned  and  slightly  shrugged  his  shoul- 
ders. 

*  Thiebault,    Memoires  de  ringt  nm. 


KING  OF  ROME.  J  77 

"  How  ?"  said  Maria  Theresa,  good-humoredly,  "  are  you  offended  ? 
Have  you  the  heart  to  be  angry  with  your  Empress." 

"  Empress  ?"  returned  Stockel.  "  I  took  your  Highness  for  a  pious 
nun  ;  the  whole  world  knows  that  Maria  Theresa  is  no  longer  an  Em- 
press, she  no  longer  reigns  in  Austria." 

Maria  Theresa  felt  a  pang  as  she  heard  these  words,  and  .her  cheeks 
flushed— almost  with  anger.  But  overcoming  the  feeling,  she  smiled 
sadly  and  said :  *'  I  see  that  you  are  really  angry,  poor  Stockel.  You 
do  not  like  to  see  my  palace  made  a  cloister.  You  think,  perhaps  that 
I  have  done  wrong  ?"  ' 

"  I  do  not  pretend  to  judge  of  the  acts  of  the  rulers  of  earth,"  replied 
he  gloomily.  "  Perhaps  the  deeds  which  in  ordinary  people  would  be 
called  cowardly,  may  with  them  be  great  and  noble.  I  know  nothing 
about  it.  But  I  know  what  my  beloved  Empress  once  said  to  me.  She 
was  then  young  and  energetic ;  and  she  had  not  forgotten  the  oath  she 
had  taken  when  the  Archbishop  crowned  her  at  St.  Stephen's— the  oath 
w^ich  bound  her  to  be  a  faithful  ruler  over  her  people  until  God  releas- 
ed her." 
— "  What  said  your  Empress  then  1"  ♦ 

— "  I  will  tell  your  Highness.  I  had  lost  my  young  wife,  the  one  I 
loved  best  on  earth,  and  I  came  to  beg  my  discharge  ;  for  my  longing 
was  to  go  back  to  my  native  mountains  and  live  a  hermit's  life  in  Tyrol. 
My  Empress  would  not  release  me.  '  How,'  said  she,  '  are  you  so  weak 
that  you  must  skulk  away  from  the  world  because  Almighty  God  has 
seen  fit  to  bereave  you  of  your  wife  1  He  tries  your  faith,  man,  and 
you  must  be  firm,  whether  ypu  face  the  storm  or  bask  in  the  sunshine. 
Did  you  not  promise,  too,  to  serve  me  faithfully,  and  will  you  now  cast 
away  your  nsefi;!  life  in  vain  sorrow  1  What  would  you  think  of  me 
were  1  so  lightly  to  break  my  oath  to  my  people  ?  I  who  must  lift  my 
head  above  every  tempest  of  private  sorrow,  to  fulfill  my  vow  until 
death !'  Thus  spoke  my  Empress ;  but  that  was  many  years  ago,  and 
then  she  was  the  Sovereign  of  all  Austria." 

Maria  Theresa  looked  down,  and  the  tear-drops  that  had  been  gather- 
mg  in  her  eyes  fell  upon  her  black  dress  M'here  they  glistened  like  dia- 
monds. 

''It  is  true,"  whispered  she,  "I  was  Sovereign  of  all  Austria." 
*'  And  what  prevents  you  from  being  Sovereign  to-day  *?"  asked  Stockel 
eagerly,     "  Have  your  people  released  you "?" 

The  Empress  waved  her  hand  impatiently.  "  Enough,"  said  she  "  let 
me  go  my  way."  ' 

— "  But  I  have  a  petition  to  make,  and  as  it  is  the  last  favor  I  shall 
ever  ask,  I  hope  your  Majesty  will  not  deny  me." 
~"  Speak  your  wish,"  replied  Maria  Theresa  hastily. 
"  I  beg  of  your  Majesty  to  allow  me  to  quit  your  service,"  replied  the 
man  moodily.  « I  cannot  forget  the  words  of  Maria  Theresa.  I  wUl 
not  skulk  away  from  the  world  while  I  have  strength  to  work.  I  am 
tired  of  the  idle  life  i  lead.    It.  is  summer,  ajid  there  is  no  fire  to  kindle. 


12 


178  JOSEPH  THE  SECOND. 

As  for  the  poor  unfortunates  •whom  I  used  to  visit,  I  can  do  them  no 
good  ;  their  benefactress  is  no  more.  I  must  do  aomethina:,  or  life  will 
be  a  burthen,  and  if  your  Majesty  will  condescend  to  give  me  leave,  I 
will  seek  another  pilace." 

"  Another  place,  Stockel !"  said  the  Empress.     What  other  place  ?" 

"  A  place  in  the  household  of  the  reigning  Empress,"  answered  Stockel 
with  a  low  inclination. 

Maria  Theresa  raised  her  head,  and  her  astonishment  was  visible  la 
her  large,  open  eyes. 

"  The  reigning  Empress  V  said  she  musing.     "  Who  can  that  be  ?" 

"The  wife  of  the  reigning  Emperor,  your  Majesty,"  said  Stockel 
grimly. 

The  Empress  threw  back  her  proud  head  and  drew  her  mantle  con- 
vulsively around  her. 

"It  is  well,"  said  she.  "Come  to  me  to-morrow  and  you  shall  hear 
my  decision." 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

THB   REIGNING   EMPRESS. 

The  Empress  went  slowly  down  the  staircase.  This  staircase  led  to 
the  left  wing  of  the  palace,  where  the  apartments  of  the  imperial  chil- 
dren were  situated.  From  earliest  childhood  the  daughters  of  Maria 
Theresa  had  each  her  separate  suite.  Each  one  had  her  governess,  her 
ladles  of  honor  and  her  train  of  servants,  and  lived  as  if  in  a  miniature 
court. 

On  great  festivals,  national  or  domestic,  the  younger  members  of  the 
imperial  family  were  invited  to  the  table  ot  the  Empress  ;  otherwise 
they  ate  in  private  with  their  retinue,  and  each  child  had  a  separate  table. 

It  was  now  the  dinner-hour,  and  Maria  Theresa  had  selected  it,  because 
she  felt  sure  that  all  the  attendants  of  her  childern  -were  at  table,  and  no 
one  would  know  of  her  visit  to  Christine.  But  she  was  mistaken.  As 
she  passed  by  the  ante-room  leading  to  the  apartments  of  her  children, 
she  heard  the  voices  of  the  lords  and  ladie?!  in  waiting,  and  through  the 
half  opened  door,  saw  them  chatting  together  in  groups.  They  did  not 
seem  to  observe  their  ex-sovereign,  they  went  on  conversing  as  if  noth- 
ing had  happened.  But  as  the  Empress  was  passing  the  aparments  of 
little  Maria  Antoinette,  her  governess  appeared,  and  with  a  cry  of  joy, 
threw  herself  at  Maria  Theresa's  feet,  and  covered  her  hand  with  kisses. 

The  Empress  smiled.    A  thrill  of  pleasure  ran  through  her  frame,  as 


KING  Q?  HOME.  I79 

she  received  the  homage  to  which  from  her  birth  she  had  been  accus- 
tomed. 

"  Kise,  Countess,"  said  she  kiodly,  "  and  do  not  let  Maria  Antoinette 
know  that  I  am  near.  But  tell  me,  how  comes  it-that  at  this  hour  1  find 
the  retinue  oi'my  children  at  leisure,  while  they  are  at  table?" 

!' We  are  at  leisure,  your  Majesty,"  replied  the  Countess,'  "because 
we  are  waiting  for  their  Highnesses  to  rise  fiom  table." 

"  Is  it  then  a  festival  that  my  children  should  be  dining  at  the  impe- 
rial table  ?" 

— "  Please  your  Majesty,  the  reigning  Emperor  has  abolished  the  pri- 
vate tables  of  their  Highnesses,  your  children.  He  finds  it  cheaper  and 
more  convenient  for  all  the  members  of  the  Imperial  family  to  be  served 
at  once  and  at  one  table." 

— "  Where,  then,  do  my  children  dine  ?"  asked  the  Empress  with  as- 
perity. 

— "■  Ea  famille,  with  h«r  imperial  Majesty,  the  reigning  Empress." 
"  The  reigning  Empress  !"  echoed  J^Iaria  Theresa,  and  her  brow  grew 
dark.     "  But  how  comes  it  that  my  children  leave  their  rooms  without 
their  retinue  ?     Have  you  then  already  forgotten  that  I  never  permit  a 
breach  of  court-ceremonial  on  any  account?" 

—"Please  your  Majesty,  the  Emperor  dislikes  etiquette,  and  he  has 
■  strictly  forbidden  all  Spanish  customs  at  court,  as  laughable  and  ridicu- 
lous. He  has  forbidden  all  attendance  upon  the  imperial  family,  except 
fin  New  Year's  day.  He  has  also  forbidden  us  to  kneel  before'his  Ma- 
jesty, because  it  is  an  outlandish  Spanish  custom,  and  an  homage  due  to 
God  alone.  All  the  French  and  Italian  servants  of  the  palace  are  dis- 
missed, and  their  places  are  supplied  by  natives.  The  Emperor  wishes 
to  have  every  thing  at  his  court  essentially  German.  Eor  that  reason 
he  has  ordered  .the  Mass  to  be  translated  and  celebrated  in  the  German 
language." 

The  Empress  heaved  a  sigh,  and  drew  her  mantilla  over  her  face,  as 
if  to  shut  out  the  future  which  was  unrolling  itself  to  her  view.  She 
felt  sick  at  heart,  for  she  began  to  comprehend  that  her  successor  was 
creating  a  new  order  of  things,  and  was  speaking  with  contempt  of  his 
mother's  reign.  But  she  would  not  contemplate  the  sad  vision  •  she 
strove  to  turn  back  her  thoughts  to  the  present.  ' 

"  But  if  you  no  longer  have  your  private  table,"  continued  she,  "why 
not  accompany  the  Princesses  ?" 

"  Because  the  Emperor  deems  it  fitting  that  the  imperial  family  dine 
alone.  We,  ladies  in  waiting,  dine  alone  in  a  small  room  set  apart  for 
us,  and  then  return  to  our  apartments  to  await  their  Highnesses." 
— "  But  the  lords  in  waiting,  do  they  not  dine  with  you  ?" 
'I  No,  your  Majesty,  they  have  received  orders  at  one  o'clock  to  go  to 
their  own  houses,  or  to  their  former  lodgings,  to  dine.  The  court  table 
is  abolished,  and  the  Emperor  finds  that  by  so  doing  he  has  economised 
a  very  considerable  sum." 

A  deep  flush  of  anger  passed  over  the  face  of  Maria  Theresa,  and  her 


ISO  JOSEPH  THE  SECOND. 

lip  curled  contemptuously.  Economy  was  one  of  the  few  virtues  which 
the  profuse  and  munificent  Empress  had  never  learned  to  practice.  She 
considered  it  beneath  the  dignity  of  a  sovereign  to  count  the  cost  of 
any  thing.  ' 

— "  Enough,"  said  she  in  a  constrained  voice,  "I  will  go  to  Christine. 
Let  no  one  know  of  my  visit.  I  desire  to  see  my  sick  daughter 
alone."  ,    . 

She  bent  her  lofty  liead,  and  walked  rapidly  away.  With  a  beating 
heart,  she  opened  the  door  that  led  to  the  sleeping-room  of  the  Princess. 
There  on  a  couch  lay  a  pale,  weeping  figure,  the  Empress's  darling,  her 
beautiful  Christine. 

She  stopped  for  a  moment  on  the  threshhold,  and  looked  lovingly  at 
the  dear  child  whom  for  four  days  she  had  not  seen ;  then  a  thrill  of  un- 
utterable joy  pervaded  her  whole  being. 

At  this  moment,  Christine  raised  her  eyes  languidly ;  her  glance  met 
that  of  her  mother  ;  and  with  a  piercing  cry,  she  sprang  from  the  couch 
with  open  arms.  But  overcome  by  weakness  and  emotion,  she  faltered, 
grew  paler,  and  sank  to  the  floor. 

The  Empress  darted  forward  and  caught  her  fainting  daughter  in  her 
arms.  She  carried  her  to  the  divan,  laid  her  softly  down,  and  with 
quivering  lip  surveyed  the  pale  face  and  closed  eyes  of  the  Princess. 

She  recovered  slowly,  and  at  length,  heaving  a  deep  sigh,  Christine 
unclosed  her  eyes.  Mother  and  child  contemplated  each  other  with  lov- 
ing glances,  and  as  the  Archduchess  raised  her  arms  and  clasped  them 
around  her  mother's  neck,  she  whispered  feebly  :  "  Oh,  now,  all  is  well ! 
I  am  no  longer  desolate ;  my  dear,  dear  mother  has  returned  to  me. 
She  has  not  forsaken  us ;  she  will  shield  us  from  oppression  and  mis- 
fortune." 

Like  a  frightened  dove,  Christine  clung  to  the  Empress,  and  burying 
her  face  in  her  mother's  breast,  she  wept  tears  of  relief  and  joy. 

The  Empress  drew  her  close  to  her  heart.  "  Yes,  darling,"  said  she 
with  fervor,  "  1  am  here  to  shield  you,  and  I  will  never  forsakd  you 
again.  No  one  on  earth  will  dare  to  oppress  you  now.  Tell  me,  dear 
child,  what  goes  wrong  with  you  "J" 

"  Oh,  mother,"  whispered  Christine,  "  there  is  one  in  Austria,  more 
powerful  than  yourself,  who  will  force  me  to  his  will.  You  cannot 
shield  me  from  the  Emperor,  for  you  have  given  him  the  power  to  rule 
over  us,  and  oh,  how  cruelly  he  uses  his  right !" 

"  What  I  have  given,  I  can  recall,"  cried  the  Empress.  "  Mine  are 
the  power  and  the  crown,  and  I  have  not  yet  relinquished  them,  Now 
speak,  Christine ; — what  grieves  you,  and  why  are  your  eyes  so  red  with 
weeping  ?" 

"  Because  I  am  the  most  unhappy  of  mortals,"  cried  Christine  passion- 
ately. "  Because  I  am  denied  the  right  which  every  peasant-girl  exerci- 
ses ;  the  right  of  refusing  aman  whom  I  do  not  love.  Oh,  mother !  if 
you  can,  save  me  from  the  detested  Duke  of  Chablais  whom  my  cruel 
brother  forces  upon  me  na  a  husband." 


KINO  UK  KOilE.  181 

"  Is  that  your  sorrow,  my  child  V  exclaimed  the  Empi-ess.  "  Joseph 
is  like  his  father ;  he  loves  wealth.  The  Emperor  had  proposed  this 
half-brsther  of  the^ung  of  Sardinia  for  you,  Christine,  hut  I  refused  my 
consent ;  and  now  without  my  knowledge,  Joseph  would  force  him  up- 
on you  because  of  his  great  riches.  But  patience,  patience,  m^*  daugh- 
ter. I  will  show  you  that  I  am  not  so  powerless  as  you  think  ;  I  will 
show  you  that  no  one  in  Austria  shall  give  away  piy  Christine  without 
her  mother's  approbation." 

While  the  Empress  spoke,  her  cheeks  flushed  and  her  eyes  glowed 
with  a  proud  consciousness  of  might  not  yet  renounced  forever.  The 
sorrowing  widow  was  being  once  more  transformed  into  the  stately  sov- 
erfiign,  and  the  eyes,  which  had  been  so  dimmed  by  tears,  were  lit  up 
by  the  fire  of  new  resolves. 

"  Oh,  mother,  my  own  imperial  mother,"  said  Christina,  "  do  not  only- 
free  me  from  the  man  whom  I  detest,  but  bless  me  with  the  hand  of  the 
man  I  love.  You  well  know  how  long  I  have  loved  Albert  of  Saxony, 
you  know  how  dear  I  am  to  him.  I  have  sworn  never  to  be  the  wife  of 
another,  and  I  will  keep  my  oath,  or  die  !  Oh,  mother,  do  not  make 
me  the  sport  of  policy  and  ambition  !  Let  me  be  happy  with  him  whom 
I  love.  What  are  crowns  and  sceptres  and  splendor  when  the  heart  is 
without  love  and  hope  ?  I  am  willing  to  lead  a  simple  life  with  Albert 
— let  me  bo  happy  in  my  own  way.  Oh,  mother!  I  love  him  so  far 
above  all  earthly  creatures  that  I  would  rather  be  buried  with  him  in  a 
grave  than  be  an  Empress  without  him." 

And  she  fell  upon  her  knees  and  wept  anew.  The  Empress  had  lis- 
tened musingly  to  her  daughter's  appeal.  While  Christine  was  speak- 
ing, the  glamour  of  her  own  past  love  was  upon  her  heart.  She  was  a 
girl  again  ;  and  once  more  her  life  seemed  bound  up  in  the  love  she  bore 
to  yoiuig  Francis  of  Lorraine.  Thus  had  she  spoken,  so  had  she  entrea- 
ted her  father,  the  proud  Emperor,  until  he  had  relented,  and  she  had 
become  the  wife  of  Christine's  own  father !  Not  only  maternal  love, 
but  womanly  sympathy  pleaded  for  her  unhappy  child. 

She  bent  over  her,  and  with  her  white  hand  fondly  stroked  the  rich 
masses  of  Christine's  golden-brown  hair. 

"  Do  not  weep,  my  daughter,"  said  she  tenderly.  "True,  you  have 
spoken  words  most  unseemly  for  one  of  your  birth  ;  for  it  is  the  duty 
of  a  Princess  to  buy  her  splendor  and  her  rank  with  many  a  stifled  long- 
ing, and  many  a  disappointment  of  the  affections.  Kind  fate  bestowed 
upon  me  not  only  grandeur,  but  the  husband  of  my  love,  and  daily  do  I 
thank  the  good  God  who  gave  me  to  my  best  beloved  Franz.  I  do  not 
know  why  you,  too,  may  not  be  made  a  happy  exception  to  the  lot  of 
Princes.  ]  have  still  four  beautiful  daughters  for  whom  state  policy 
may  seek  alliances.  I  will  permit  one  of  my  children  to  be  happy  as  I 
have  been.  God  grant  that  the  rest  may  find  happiness  go  hand  in  hand 
with  duty." 

The  Princess  enraptured  would  have  thrown  her  arms  around  her 
mother's  neck  ;  but  suddenly  her  face,  which  had  grown  rosy  with  hap- 


1 82  JOSEPH  THE  SECOiro 

piness,  became  pale  again,  and  her  countenance  wore  an  expression  of 
deep  disappointment. 

"  Oh,  motlier,"  cried  she,  "  we  build  castles,  while  we  forget  that  you 
are  no  longer  the  Sovereign  of  Austria.  And  while  you  weep  and  pray 
in  your  dark  and  silent  cell,  the  Emperor,  with  undutiful  hand  overturns 
the  edifice  of  Austria's  greatness — that  edifice  which  you,  dearest  moth- 
er, had  reared  with  your  own  hands.  He  is  like  Heratostratus ;  his  on- 
ly fame  will  be  to  have  destroyed  a  temple  which  he  had  not  the  cun- 
ning to  build." 

"  We  will  wrest  the  faggots  from  his  sacreligious  hands,"  cried  the 
Empress. 

The  Archduchess  seemed  not  to  have  heard  her  mother's  words.  She 
threw  her  arms  around  the  Empress,  and  clinging  convulsively  to  her, 
exclaimed,  ''  Oh  do  not  forsake  me,  my  mother'  and  my  Emp'ress.  That 
horrible  woman,  who  was  dragged  from  her  obscurity  to  curse  my  bro- 
ther's life ;  that  tiresome,  hideous  Josepha — do  not  suffer  her  to  wear 
your  title  and  your  crown.  Oh,  God  !  Oh,  God  !  Must  I  live  to  see  Ma- 
ria Theresa  humbled,  while  Josepha  of  Bavaria  is  the  reigning  Empress 
of  Austria." 

The  Empress  started.  This  was  the  third  time  she  had  heard  these 
words,  and  each  time  it  seemed  as  if  a  dagger  had  pierced  her  proud 
heart.  ' 

"Josepha  of  Bavaria,  the  reigning  Empress  of  Austria!"  said  she 
scornfully.  "  We  shall  see  how  long  she  is  to  bear  my  title  and  wear 
my  crown !  But  I  am  weary,  my  daughter.  I  must  go  to  my  solitude, 
but  fear  nothing.  Whether  I  be  Empress  or  Abbess,  no  man  on  earth 
shall  oppress  my  children.  The  doors  of  the  cloister  have  not  yet  closed 
upon  me ;  I  am  still,  if  I  choose  to  be,  the  reigning  Empress  of  Austria." 

She  pressed  a  kiss  upon  Christine's  forehead,' and  left  the  room. 

On  her  return,  she  encountered  no  one,  and  she  was  just  about  to  open 
the  door  of  her  own  ante-room,  when  she  caught  the  sound  of  voices 
from  within. 

"  But  I  tell  you,  gentlemen,"  cried  an  angry  voice,  "  that  her  Majesty 
the  ex-Empress,  receives  no  one,  and  has  no  longer  any  revenues.  She 
has  nothing  more  to  do  with  the  administration  of  affiiirs  in  Austria." 

"  But  I  must  see  the  Empress,"  replied  a  second  and  a  deprecating 
voice.  "It  is  my  right,  for  she  is  our  Sovereign,  and  she  cannot  so  for- 
sake us.     Let  me  see  the  Empress.     My  life  depends  upon  her  goodness." 

"And  I,"  cried  a  third  voice,  "  I  too  must  see  her.     Not  for  myself  do  . 
I  seek  this  audience,  but  for  her  subjects.     Oh,  for  the  love  of  Austria, 
Jet  me  speak  with  my  gracious  Sovereign  !" 

"  But  I  tell  you  that  1  dare  not,"  cried  the  ruflled  page.  "It  would 
ruin  me  not  only  with  her  Majesty,  but  with  the  reigning  Emperor.  The 
widowed  Empress  has  no  more  voice  in  State  affairs,  and  the  Emperor 
will  never  suffer  her  to  have  any,  for  he  has  all  the  power  to  himself, 
and  he  never  means  to  yield  an  inch  of  it." 

^'  Woe  then  to  Austria !"  cried  the  third  speaker. 


KING  Of  ROMIL  18:3 

"Why  do  you  cry,  '  woe  to  Austria ' !"  asked  a  voice  outside;  and 
the  tall,  majestic  form  of  the  Empress  appeared  at  the  door. 

"  Our  Empress  !"  cried  the  two  petitioners,  while  both  fell  at  her  feet, 
and  looked  up  into  her  face  with  unpiistakeable  joy. 

The  Empress  greeted  thera  kindly,  but  she  added,  "Rise,  gentlemen. 
I  hear  that  my  son,  the  Emperor,  has  forbidden  his  subjects  to  kneel  to 
him ;  they  shall  not,  therefore,  kneel  to  me,  for  he  is  right.  To  God 
alone  belongs  such  homage.  Rise,  therefore.  Father  Aloysius;  the  bro- 
thers of  the  holy  order  of  Jesus  mustnever  kneel  to  fellow-mortal.  And 
you.  Counsellor  Biindener,  rise  also,  and  stand  erect.  Your  limbs  have 
grown  stifi'in  my  service;  in  your  old  age  you  have  the  right  to  spare 
them.  You,"  added  she,  turning  to  the  page,  "  return  to  your  post,  and 
attend  more  faithfully  to  your  duty  than  you  have  done  to-day.  '  Whea 
1  left  this  room,  no  one  guarded  the  entrance  to  it." 

"Your  Majesty,"  stammered  the  confused  page,  " it  was  the  dinner 
hour,  and  I  had  never  dreamed  of  your  living  your  apartments.  liis 
Majesty,  the  Emperor,  has  reduced  the  pages  and  sentries  to  half  their 
number,  and  there  are  no  longer  enough  of  us  to  relieve  one  another  as 
we  were  accustomed  to  do  under  the  reign  of  your  Majesty." 

"  It  is  well,"  said  the  Empress  haughtily.  "I  will  restore  order  to 
my  household  before  another  day  has  passed.  And  now,  gentlemen, 
what  brings  you  here  ?     Speak,  Father  Aloysius." 

"  My  conscience,  your  Majesty,"  replied  Father  Aloysius  fervently. 
*'I  cannot  stand  by  and  see  the  hailstorm  of  corruption  that  devastates 
our  unhappy  country.  I  cannot  see  Austria  flooded  with  the  works  of 
French  philosophers  and  Gorman  infidels.  What  is  to  become  of  reli- 
gion and  decency,  if  Voltaire  and  Rousseau  are  to  be  the  teachers  of 
Austrian  youth !" 

"  It  rests  with  yourself,  my  friend,"  replied  the  Empress,^  to  protect 
the  youth  of  Austria  from  such  contaminating  influences.  Why  do  those 
whom  I  appointed  censors  of  the  press,  permit  the  introduction  of  these 
godless  works  in  my  realms  ?" 

"  Your  Majesty's  realms !"  replied  the  Father  sadly.  "Alas,  they  are 
no  longer  yours.  Your  son  is  Emperor  and  ^Master  in  Austria,  and  he 
has  commanded  the  pfinting  and  distribution  of  every  infidel  work  of 
modern  times.  The  censors  of  the  press  have  been  silenced,  and  order- 
ed to  discontinue  their  revision  of  books." 

"  Has  my  son  presumed  so  far '?"  cried  the  Empress  angrily.  "  Has 
he  dared  to  overthrow  tlie  barriers  which  for  the  good  of  my  subjects  I 
had  raised  to  protect  them  from  the  corrupt  influerices  of  French  infideli- 
ty 1  Has  he  ordered  the  dissemination  of  obscene  and  ungodly  books  % 
Oh,  my  God  !  How  culpable  have  I  been  to  the  trust  which  thou  hast 
placed  in  my  hands  !  I  feel  my  guilt;  I  have  sinned  in  the  excess  of 
my  grief.  But  I  will  conquer  my  weak  heart.  Go  in  peace.  Father,  I 
•will  ponder  your  words,  and  to-morrow  you  shall  hear  from  me." 

The  Fatber  bowed  and  retired,  while  the  Empress  turned  towards 
Counsellor  Biindener,  and  inouired  the  cause  of  his  distress. 


184  JOSEPH  THK  SECOND 

"  Oh,  your  Majesty,"  cried  liie  old  map,  in  accents  of  despair,  "  unless 
you  help  me,  I  am  ruined.  If  you  come  not  again  to  my  assistance,  my 
children  -will  starve,  for  I  am  old  and — '■ — " 

"What!"  interrupted  the  Empress,  "your  children  starve  with  the 
pension  I  gave  you  from  my  own  private  purse!" 

"  You  did  indeed  give  me  a  generous  pension,"  replied  Biindener,  "and 
may  God  bless  your  Majesty,  for  a  more  bountiful  Sovereign  never  boro 
the  weight  of  a  crown.  But  desolation  and  despair  sit  in  the  places 
where  once  your  Majesty's  name  was  mingled  each  day  with  the  prayers  . 
of  those  whom  you  had  succored.  The  Emperor  has  withdrawn  every 
pension  bestowed  by  you.  He  has  received  a  statement  of  every  annui- 
ty paid  by  your  Majesty's  orders,  and  has  declared  his  intention  of 
cleaning  out  the  Augean  stables  of  this  wasteful  beneficence."  '•'' 

The  Empress  couid  not  suppress  aery  of  indignation.  Her  face  grew 
scarlet,  and  her  lips  parted.  I3ut  she  conquered  the  angry  impulse  that 
would  have  led  her  to  disparage  her  son  in  the  presence  of  his  subject, 
and  her  mouth  closed  firmly.  With  agitated  mien,  she  paced  her  apart- 
ment, her  eyes  flashing,  her  breast  heaving,  her  w"hole  frame  convulsed 
with  sense  of  insulted  maternity — Then  she  came  towards  the  Counsel- 
lor, a^id  lifting  her  proud  head  as  though  Olympus  had  owjied  her  sway, 
she  spoke. 

"  Go  home,  my  friend,"  said  she  imperiously,  "and  believe  my  royal 
word,  when  I  assure  you  that  neither  you  nor  any  other  of  rrjy  pensioners 
.  shall  be  robbed  of  your  annuities.  Princely  faith  should  be  sacred  above 
all  consideration  of  thrift ;  and  we  shall  see  who  dares  to  impeach  mine !" 

So  saying,  Maria  Theresa  passed  into  her  dressing-room  where  her  la- 
dies of  honor  were  assembled.  They  all  bent  the  knee  as  she  entered, 
and  awaited  her  commands  in  reverential  silence.  At  that  moment  the 
flourish  of  trumpets  and  the  call  of  the  guards  to  arms  were  heard.  The 
Empress  looked  astounded,  and  directed  an  inquiring  glance  towards  the 
window.  She  knew  full  well  the  meaning  of  that  trumpet  signal  and 
that  call  to  arms :  they  were  heard  on  the  departure  or  the  return  of 
one  person  only  in  Austria,  and  that  person  was  herself,  the  Empress. 

Eor  the  third  time  the  trumpet  sounded.  "  What  means  this  V  ask- 
ed she  frowning. 

"  Please  your  Majesty,"  answered  a  lady  of  the  bed-chamber,  "  It  sig- 
nifies that  her  imperial  Majesty,  the  reigning  Empress,  has  returned 
from  her  walk  in  the  palace  gardens." 

Maria  Theresa  answered  not  a  word.  She  walked  quickly  past  her 
■attendants  arid  laid  her  hand  upon  the  lock  of  the  door  which  led  into 
her  private  study.  Her  head  was  thrown  back,  her  eyes  were  full  «of 
flashing  resolve,  and  the  tone  of  her  voice  was  clear,  full  and  majestic. 
It  betokened  that  Maria  Theresa  was  "  herself  again." 

"  Let  Prince  Kaunitz  be  summoned,"  said  she.  "  Send  hither  the 
Countess  Fuchs  and  Father  Porhammer.     Tell  the  two  latter  to  come  to 

my  study  when  the  Prince' leaves  it."  __. 

*Hubner :  life  of  Joseph  II.    Vol,  1,  pag*  58. 


KING  OF  KOilE.  185 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

THE  CO-REGENT  DISMISSED. 

SoARCELT  a  quarter  of  an  hour  had  elapsed  since  the  Empress's  orders 
had  been  issued,  when  a  page  announced  Prince  Kaunitz. 

Maria  Theresa  went  forward  to  receive  him.  Her  whole  being  seem- 
ed filled  with  a  feverish  excitement  which  contrasted  singularly  with  the 
unaltered  demeanor  of  her  Prime  Minister,  who,  cold  and  tranquil  as 
ever,  advanced  to  meet  his  Sovereign  and  bowed  with  his  usual  phlegm. 

"Well,"  said  Maria  Theresa  after  a  pause,  "every  thing  has  not 
changed  in  the  four  weeks  of  my  retirement  from  court.  You  at  least 
are  the  same  in  appearance.  Let  me  hope  that  you  are  the  same  in  spirit 
and  in  mind." 

"  Please  your  Majesty,"  replied  Kaunitz,  "four  weeks  have  not  yet 
gone  by  since  J  had  the  honor  of  an  inferview  with  you," 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that  ?"  asked  the  Empress  impatiently.  "Do 
you  wish  to  remind  me  that  I  had  resolved  to  wait  four  weeks  before  I 
decided  upon  a  permanent  course  of  action  ?" 

"Yes,  your  Majesty,"  said  Kaunitz.  "I  am  somewhat  vain,  as  every- 
body knows,  and  1  have  already  seen  my  triumph  in  your  Majesty's 
face.  I  read  there  that  my  noble'Empress  has  proved  me  a  true  pro- 
phet. She  has  not  yet  been  awfty  from  her  subjects  for  four  weeks,  and 
already  her  head  has  silenced  the  weakness  of  her  heart.  Three  weeks 
have  sufficed  to  bring  Maria  Theresa  onoe  more  to  her  sense  of  duty." 

"Ah?"  said  the  Empress.  "Are  you  then  so  sure  that  my  novitiate 
will  not  end  in  a  cloister  ?" 

— "  I  am  convinced  of  it ;  for  never  will  I  forget  the  day  on  which 
your  Majesty  swore  to  be  a  faithful  ruler  over  Austria  as  long  as  you 
lived.  I  am  convinced  of  it,  too,  because  I  know  that  although  my  Em- 
press has  the  heart  of  a  woman,  she  has  the  head  of  a  man,  and  in  all 
well-ordered  unions,  the  head  rules  the  household," 

The  Empress  smiled  fiiintly  but  said  nothing.  Her  arms  were  cross- 
ed over  her  b'reast,  her  head  was  bent  in  thought,  and  she  vient  slowly 
forth  and  back  from  one  end  of  her  study  to  the  other.  Kaunitz  follow- 
ed her  with  his  large,  tranquil  eyes,  which  seemed  to  penetrate  to  the 
remotest  regions  of  her  throbbing  heart. 

Suddenly  she  stood  before  him,  and  for  a  moment  gazed  earnestly  in 
his  face. 

"  Kaunitz,"  said  she,  "  I  have  not  only  considered  you  for  many  years 
as  a  wise  and  great  statesman,' but  what  is  better  yet,  I  have  esteemed 
you  as  a  man  of  honor.  I  exact  of  you  that  you  act  honorably  and  opeqT 
ly  towards  me  in  this  hour.     Do  you  promise?" 


18G  JOdKPK  THE  SECOND. 

— "  An  honorable  man  your  Majesty  need  not  promise  to  do  that 
■which  honor  requires  of  him.  ^ 

— "  True,  true  ;  but  you  might  pay  unconscious  deference  to  my  rank, 
and  to  my  sex.  Courtesy  might  mislead  you.  This  is  precisely  what  I 
warn  you  to  avoid.  I  wish  you  to  speak  candidly  without  thought  of 
consideration  for  Empress  or  woman.  Remember  how  you  pledged 
your  life  to  Austria's  good  ;"  and  forgetting  all  else,  answer  me  truthful- 
ly and  without  fear.     Will  you  Kaunitz  ?" 

— "  I  will,  your  Majesty.  Ask  and  you  shall  be  answered  truthfully, 
so  help  me  God." 

"  Then  tell  me,  which  of  us  is  better  calculated  to  reign  in  Austria 
Joseph  or  myself?  Which  of  us  will  best  promote  the  welfare  of  the 
Austrian  people? — —^o  not  answer  me  at  once.  Take  time  to  reflect 
upon  the  subject,  for  a  weighty  question  lies  in  the  balance  of  this  hour. 
I  cannot  trust  myself  in  this  decision,  for  1  have  wept  so  many  tears  that 
1  have  not  the  strongth  to  see  wherein  my  duty  lies.  I  cannot  even 
trust  my  own  misgivings,  for  pride  or  vanity  may  have  blinded  my  eyes 
to  truth.  I  am  not. sure  that  1  view  things  in  their  proper  light.  It  is 
useless  therefore  for  me  to  speak  ;  I  desire  to  h^ar  no  one  but  yourself. 
I  swear  to  you  by  the  memory  of  Charles  V.,  that  whatever  you  say 
sh:i,ll  he  sacred,  for  1  have  exacted  of  you  candor,  and  say  what  you  will, 
your  candor  shall  not  oftcnd.  Who  then  is  best  fitted  to  reign,  Jpseph 
or  I?" 

"Your  Majesty  I  have  had  full  time  to  reflect  upon  this  weighty  ques-, 
tion,  for  since  Jir.st  you  announced  your  intention  to  resign  the  throne,  I 
have  thought  of  nothing  else.  In  politics  we  know  neither  pred-eliction 
nor  prejudice.  Necessity  and  interest  decide  all  things.  Your  Majesty 
has  so  often  called  me  a  good  politician,  that  I  have  ended  by  believing 
myself  to  be  one.  It  follows  from  thence  that  in  deliberiiting  upon  this 
great  question,  I  have  laid  aside  all  personal  inclination  and  sympathy, 
and  have  had  in  view  the  welfare  alone  of  Austria.  But  for  this, 
the  matter  would  have  required  no  thought,  for  the  Emperor  Joseph  and 
I  lyive  nothing  in  common.  He  fears  me,  and  I  do  not  loye  him.*  We 
never  could  be  made  to  understand  one  another ;  for  the  language  of  the 
heart  is  not  to  be  forced  by  edicts,  as  is  the  language  of  the  court.  The 
Emperor  has  forbidden  all  tongues  in  Germany  save  one.  If  he  persist 
in  this,  he  will  alienate  his  subjects  and  Austria  will  soon  lose  her  great- 
ness. When  a  man  intends  to  force  his  people  to  forget  their  mother- 
tongue,  he  must  do  it  by  degrees,  and  if  he  sflcceed,  he  will  be  a  skillful 
teacher.  The  best  reforms  are  only  to  be  introduced  through  the  by- 
ways of  life.  If  we  trust  them  on  the  highway,  they  shock  and  terrify 
the  people.  The  young  Emperor,  regardless  of  these  considerations,  has 
violently  suppressed  whatever  seemed  injudicious  to  him  in  your  Majes- 
ty's administration.  Perhaps  you  had  done  too  much,  your  son  certain- 
ly does  too  little — I  hear  every  where  of  interdicts,  but  nowhere  of  con- 
cessions, old  things  destroyed,  but  nothing  created  to  replace  thera. 

»  Kaunitz'*  own  words.    Waxall,  Vol.  II,  p.  490. 


KING  OF  nOMK.         .  1S7 

What  will  be  the  result  of  this"?  Au?tna  must  soon  be  reduced  to  a 
mass  of  ruins,  and  your  son  will  go  down  to  posterity  with  a  fame  like 
that  of  Attila.  Save  Austria,  save  him  from  the  curse  that  threatens 
both.  We  have  not  yet  completed  the  noble  edifice  of  which  eleven 
years  ago  we  laid  the  foundations.  We  must  finish  the  structure,  and 
80  solid  must  be  its  walls  that  our  thoughtless  young  reformer  shall  not 
batter  them  down.  Your  Majesty  must  remain  the  reigning  Empress 
of  Austria!  You  cannot  resign  your  Empire  to  your  son.  Duty  and 
the  welfare  of  your  subjects,  forbid  it." 

The  Empress  inclined  her  head  approvingly.  "I  believe  that  you  are 
right,  Kaunitz,"  replied  she.  "It  is  not  in  the  pride,  but  in  the  deep 
humility  of  my  heart  that  I  re-assum<}  the  crown  which  God  himself  has 
placed  upon  my  head.  I  have  no  right  to  say  that  the  load  is  too  heavy 
since  He.wills  mc  to  bear  it.  Indeed  I  feel  that  He  will  give  me  strength 
to  accomplish  His  will  in  me,  and  I  am  now  ready' to  say,  '  Behold  the 
hand-maid  of  the  Lord  ;  be  it  done  to  me  according  to  His  word.'  I  will 
never  again  lift  my  treasonable  hand  against  that  crown  which  I  pray 
heaven  I  may  wear  for  the  good  of  my  people. — But  you,  Prince,  you 
must  be  at  my  side  ;  together  we  have  planned  for  Austria,  together  we 
'  must  complete  the  noble  structure  of  her  greatness." 

— "  I  remain,  your  Majesty,  and  will  never  cease  to  labor  until  the 
banner  of  the  Hapsburg  floats  proudly  from  its  battlements.  But  we 
must  decorate  as  well  as  strengthen.  We  have  beautiful  young  Prin- 
cesses whose  alliances  will  bring  wealth  and  splendor  to  our  imperial 
edifice.  Within,  we  shall  have  solid  walls  that  will  ensure  the  durabil- 
ity of  our  structure;  without,  we  shall  have  brilliant  alliances  that  will 
perfect  its  beauty." 

"You  have  a  marriage  to  propose?"  said  the  Empress  smiling. 

— "I.have,  your  Majesty,  a  marriage  with  the  young  King  of  Naples." 

— "For  which  of  my  daughters?"  asked  Maria  Theresa  uneasily. 

— "For  the  one  your  Majesty  shall  select." 

— "Then  it  shall  be  Johanna.  She  is  very  beautiful,  artd  has  a  proud 
and  ambitious  heart  which  craves  less  for  love  than  for  rank  and  splen- 
dor. But  if  I  give  one  of  my  daughters  to  diplomacy,  you  must  leave 
me  another  for  domestic  happiness.  Christine  has  undertaken  to  thii^c 
that  she  must  marry  for  love,  and  I  think  we  ought  to  make  her  happy 
in  her  own  modest  way.  We  owe  amends  to  Albert  of  Saxony  for  hav- 
ing declined  an  alliance  with  his  sister;  we  also  owe  him  something  for 
his  fidelity  and  good  fvith  as  an  ally.  Let  the  young  lovers  be  united 
then;  we  have  gold  and  daughters  enough  to  tolerate  one  marriage  of 
inclination  in  our  imperial  house." 

"  But  your  Majesty  ^'ill  give  up  the  youngest,  Marie  Antoinette,  to 
diplomacy,  will  you  not?"  I 

— "  You  destine  her  to  the  throne  of  France,  Prince,  is  it  not  so  ?" 

— "  Yes,  your  Majesty.  The  son  of  the  Dauphin  is  a  noble  youth, 
and  although'^his  father  was  unfriendly  to  Austria,  Choiseuil  and  La 
Pompadour  are  for  us.     Marie  Antoinette,  therefore,  is  to  be  Queen  c.f 


[88  JOSEPH  TH£  ^CONU 

France.  This,  however,  must  boa  profound  secret  between  ourselves. 
While  her  little  Highness  is  being  fashioned  for  lier  future  dignity,  we 
will  marry  her  elder  sisters,  if  not  so  brilliantly,  at  least  as  advantage- 
ously as  we  can.  First  then  upon  the  list  is  the  Archduchess  Christine. 
We  must  find  some  suitable  rank  for  herself  and  her  husband,  and  your 
Majesty  will  of  course  bestow  a  dowry  worthy  of  your  daughter's  birth 
and  station." 

"I  will  present  them  the  Duchy  of  Teschen  as  a  wedding-gift,  and  it 
must  be  your  care,  Prince,  to  find  an  appointment  for  the  Elector  of 
Saxony  that  will  be  worthy  of  my  son-in-law." 

"  Let  us  name  him  Captain-General  and  Stadt-holder  of  Hungary. 
That  will  be  an  effectual  means  of  converting  the  Hungarians  into  Aus- 
trians,  and  the  appointment  is  in  every  way  suitable  to  the  Elector's 
rank." 

The  Empress  nodded,  smiling  acquiescence.  "  Your  head,"  said  she,, 
'•  is  always  in  the  right  place ;  and  sometimes  I  cannot  help  thinking 
that  your  heart  is  better  than  the  world  believes  it  to  be,  else  how  could 
you  so  readily  divine  the  hearts  of  others?  How  quickly  have  you  de- 
vised the  best  of  schemes  to  promote  my  daughter's  happiness,  without 
compromising  her  imperial  station  !  Christine  shall  be  Statthalterin  of 
Hungary,  and  in  her  name  and  my  own,  I  thank  you  for  the  suggestion. 
One  thing,  however,  lies  heavy  on  my  heart.  It  is  the  thought  of  the 
blow  I  am  about  to  inflict  upon  my  poor  Joseph.  How  will  he  bear  to 
be  deprived  of  his  sovereignty.?" 

"  I  think  your  Majesty  named  him  co-regent  only,"  said  Kaunitz. 

"  I  did,"  replied  the  Empress,  "  and  in  very  truth  I  withdraw  nothing 
but  a  temporary  privilege.  As  Empress  I  know  my  right  to  resume 
the  reins  of  power,  but  it  grieves  my  maternal  heart  to  exercise  it.  I 
think  I  see  him  now,  poor  boy,  with  his  great  blue  eyes  fixed  in  despair 
upon  me.     I  shall  never  have  the  courage  to  announce  my  return  to  him." 

— "  There  will  be  no  need  to  restrict  him  in  his  co-regency.  He  can 
be  removed  to  the  War  department,  where  he  may  reign  unfettered." 

"  He  shall  have  unlimited  power  there,"  exclaimed  the  Empress,  joy- 
fully. "  It  is  the  proper  province  of  a  man,  and  Joseph  will  fill  the  sta- 
tion far  better  than  I  have  ever  done.  1  promise  not  to  interfere  with 
him  in  the  field.  For  other  state  affairs,  I  will  attend  to  them  myself, 
and  I  do  not  think  that  I  will  ever  delegate  my  power  a  second  time. 
You  had  best  inform  Joseph  of  my  resumption  of  the  throne,  and  let  the 
Frau  Josepha  also  be  advised  that  she  is  no  longer  reigning  Empress  of 
Austria.  For  me,  I  must  always  remain  at  heart  a  sorrowing  widow. 
My  sorrows  I  can  never  overcome,  my  widow's  weeds  I  shall  never  lay 
aside.*  But  above  the  weeds  I  will  wear  the  mantle  of  royalty,  and 
since  you  have  so  determined  for  me,  Austria  shall  once  more  own  the 
sway  of  Maria  Theresa." 

*  She  kept  her  word.  Every  month,  on  the  day  of  her  husband's  death,  she  spent  the  day  in  sol- 
itary prayer,  and  on  every  yearly  anniversary  of  her  widowhood,  she  knelt  for  hours  by  the  side  of 
the  Emperor's  tomb,  praying  for  the  repose  of  his  soul.  Uer  private  apartments  were  ever  after 
hnnff  with  gray,  and  ber  coacheg  and  liveries  were  of  the  same  sad  hue.— Caroline  Piehler :  Meraolra, 


KIIfG  OF  ROJIE. 


CHAPTER  XL. 

MOTHER  AND    SON. 

Thk  dream  was  over — the  blessed  dream  of  philanthropy  and  reform  ! 
The  reins  of  power  had  been  snatched  from  his  hands,  and  Joseph  was 
once  more  consigned  to  a  life  of  insignificant  inactivity.  Like  a  wound- 
ed bird,  whose  broken  wing  no  longer  bears  him  aloft,  his  Jieart  flutter- 
ed and  fell — its  high  hopes  dasked  to  earth.  The  old  influences  which 
he  hated  were  at  work  again,  and  he  had  no  recourse  but  absolute  silence. 
His  deep  humiliation  he  was  constrained  to  hide  under  a  mask  of  seren. 
ity,  but  he  knew  that  his  spirit  was  crushed,  and  night  fell  over  his 
stricken  soul.  Still,  he  struggled  against  the  chill  of  his  despair,  and 
,with  all  the  strength  of  his  being,  he  strove  against  misfortune, 

"I  will  not  succumb,"  thought  he,  "  I  will  not  be  vanquished  by  this 
secret  grief.  I  will  not  be  a  cause  of  sorrow  to  my  friends  and  of  tri. 
umph  to  my  enemies, — I  will  live  and  overpower  "misfortune."    Since  all 

in  Vienna  is  so  dark,  let  me  seek  sunshine  elsewhere — I  will  travel 

Away  from  this  stifling  court  to  breathe  the  fiee  air  of  heaven  !  Here 
I  am  an  Emperor  without  an  Empire,  there  at  least  I  shall  be  a  man  to 
•whom  the  world  belongs  wherever  his  steed  has  strength  and  speed  to 
bear  him.  Yes,  let  mc  travel,  that  I  may  gird  up  my  loins  for  the  day 
•when  the  sun  of  royalty  shall  rise  for  me — It  will  come  !  It  will  come  ! 
And  when  it  dawns,  it  must  find  me  strong,  refreshed,  and  ready  for  ac- 
tion." 

The  Emperor  made  his  preparations  to  depart,  and  then,  in  compli- 
ance with  the  requisitions  of  court  etiquette,  he  sought  his  mother,  to 
obtain  her  consent  to  his  journey.  Maria  Theresa  received  her  son  with 
that  half  mournful  tenderness  -which  lent  such  an  indescribable  fascina- 
tion to  her  appearance  and  manners.  She  looked  at  Him  with  a  smile 
so  winning  and  affectionate,  that  Joseph,  in  spite  of  himself,  felt  touched 
and  gladdened  ;  and  the  hand  which  his  mother  held  out  was  most  fer- 
vently pressed  to  his  lips, '  It  was  the  first  time  they  had  met  in  private, 
since  the  Empress  had  re-ascended  her  throne,  and  both  felt  the  embar- 
rassment and  significance  of  the  hour. 

"  I  have  longed  for  this  moment  with  anxlons  and  beating  heart,  mj'- 
son,  said  the  mother,  while  she  drew  him  towards  her.  ''  I  know,  my 
child,  that  your  heart  is  embittered  towards  me.  You  think  that  I  would 
have  been  wiser  as  well  as  kinder  had  I  never  left  my  widow's  cloister. 
But  reflect,  my  dear  son,  as  I  have  done,  that  my  sceptre  was  given  me 
by  the  hand  of  God,  and  that  it  would  be  sinful  and  cowardly  in  mo  to 


^90  /OSEPH  THE  SECOND. 

give  it  into  the  hands  of  another,  until  He,  in  His  wisdom,- releases  me 
from  durance." 

Joseph  looked  with  genuine  emotion  at  the  agitated  countenance  of 
his  mother,  fie  saw  the  tears  gather  and  fall  from  her  eyes,  ho  saw  the 
quivering  lip,  the  trembling  frame  ;  he  felt  that  her  integrity  was  beyond 
suspicion,  her  love  for  him  beyond  all  question.  The  icy  barriers  that 
had  closed  upon  his  heart,  gave  way  •  he  felt  the  warm  and  sunny  glow 
of  a  mother's  unspeakable  love,  and  yielding  to  the  impulse  of  the  mo- 
ment, he  flung  his  arms  around  the  Empress's  neck,  while  he  covered, 
her  face  with  kisses.  "Mother,  my  dear  mother!"  sobbed  he;  and  as 
if  these  words  had  opened  the  floodgates  of  all  the  love  which  filled  his 
heart,  he  leaned  his  head  upon  her  bosom,  and  was  silent. 

She  smiled  fondly  upon  him  as  he  lay  there ;  she  returned  his  kisses, 
and  stroked  his  fair,  high  forehead  with  her  loving  hand. 

'•  Have  you  come  back  once  more  to  your  mother's  heart,  my  darling !" 
whispered  she.  "  Have  you  found  your  way  back  to  the  nest  from 
whence  yqu  have  wandered  away  so  long,  you  stray  birdling !  Do  you 
feel,  my  son,  that  the  mother's  bosom  is  the  resting-place  for  her  chil- 
dren ?  Oh,  promise  me,  my  heart's  treasure,  to  trust  and  love  me  from 
this  hour.  We  are  human  and,  therefore,  we  are  sinful  and  erring.  I 
well  ktiow,  dear  boy,  that  I  have  many  fillings.  From  my  heart  I  re- 
gret them  ;  and  if  in  your  short  life,  as  boy  or  man,  I  have  grieved  you, 
pardon  me,  deai^est,  for  I  have  not  meant  it  in  unkindness." 

"  No,  mother,"  said  Joseph,  "  it  is  I  who  should  sue  for  pardon.  My 
heart  is  wild  and  stubborn ;  but  I  believe  that  it  beats  with  a  love  as 
true  and  warm  for  my  Empress  as  that  of  any  other  man  in  Austria. 
Have  patience  with  me,  then,  my  mother,  for  I  am  indeed  a  wandering 
bird  ;  and  in  my  wild  flight,  the  shafts  of  this  life  have  wounded -and 
maimed  me.     But  let  us  not  speak  of  life — mine  is  a  blasted  one." 

"  Yes,  my  son,  let  us  speak  of  your  life,  and  of  its  misfortunes;  for  I 
know  that  Josepha  of  Bavaria  is  its  chiefest  sorrow.  I  have  heard  some-' 
thing  ».f  your  unhappiness  as  a  husband,  and  f  pity  you  both." 

"  You  pity  her  !"  cried  Joseph  hastily.  "How  does  she  deserve  my 
mother's  compassion?" 

The  Empress  laid  her  hand  gently  upon  her  son's  shoulder.  "She 
loves  you  Joseph,"  said  she,  "and  I  cannot  refuse  my  sympathy  to  a 
woman  who  loves  without  hope  of  return."    • 

"  She  loves  me  !"  exclaimed  Joseph  with  a  laugh  of  derision.  "  Yes 
— and  her  love  is  my  abhorrence  and  nxy  shame.  Her  ogling  glances 
make  me  shudder  with  disgust.  When  she  turns  upon  me  her  blotched 
and  pimpled  fice,  and  calls  me  by  the  name  of  haeband,  the  courtiers 

sneer,  and  I 1  feel  as  if  I  would  love  to  forget  my  manhood  and  fell 

her  to  the  earth." 

"  She  is  certainly  ugly,"  said  the  Empress,  shaking  her  head,  "  but 
uglier  women  than  she  have  inspired  love.  And  remember,  Joseph, 
that  you  chose  her  yourself.  Besides  she  has  an  excellent  heart,  if  you 
would  but  take  the  trouble  to  explore  its  unknown  regions.    Moreover 


KING  OF  ROME.  19 1 

you  will  one  day  be  sole  Emperor  of  Austria,  and  you  should  seek  to 
g?v0  an  heir  to  your  throne.  If  Josepha  were  the  mother  of  your  chil- 
dren, you  would  no  longer  think  her  ugly." 

"  She,  the  mother  of  my  children  !"  cried  Joseph  with  such  keenness 
of  hate  that  the  Empress  shuddered.  "Do  you  think  me  capable  of 
such  a  degradation  !  You  have  not  seen  Van  Swieten  lately,  or  he 
would  have  told  you  that  this  woman,  in  addition  to  her  other  attrac- 
tions, is  troubled  with  a  new  malady." 

— "Van  Swieten  did  not  mention  it  to  me." 

— "Well,  then,  your  Majesty,  I  will  mention  it.  This  so-called  Em- 
press has  the  scurvy." 

"Oh,  my  son,  my  poor  boy!"  cried  the  Empress,  putting  her  arm 
around  Joseph's  neck  as  though  she  would  have  shielded  him  from  in- 
fection. "This  is  a  disgusting  malady,  but  Van  Swieten's  skill  will 
soon  conquer  it." 

"  Yes  ;  but  neither  ho  nor  you  will  ever  conquer  my  hate  for  ?ier. 
Not  all  the  world  could  make  ine  forgive  the  deception  that  was  prac- 
ticed upon  me  when  she  was  allowed  to  become  my  wife.  This  woman 
the  mother  of  my  children !  No  !  No  one  shall  ever  force  me  to  be  the 
father  of  anything  born  of  Josepha  of  Bavaria!" 

The  Empress  turned  away  and  sighed.  It  was  in  vain.  This  was  ha- 
tred strong  as  death.    "  May  God  comfort  yoh  both !"  said  she  mournfully. 

"Then  he  must  put  us  asunder,"  cried  out  Joseph  almost  beside  him- 
self. "  Believe  me,  mother,"  continued  he,  "  death  alone  can  bring  us 
consolation  J  and  may  God  forgive  me  when  I  pray  that  this  atoning 
angel  may  come  to  my  relief  She  or  I !  No  longer  can  I  bear  the  ridi- 
cule of  hearing  this  leper  called  an  Empress !" 

"  Travel,  then,  my  dear  son,"  said  his  mother.  "  Travel  and  tr}^  to 
enjoy  life  away  from  Vienna.  Perchance  when  you  will  have  seen  how 
little  true  happiness  there  is  on  earth,  experience  may  come  to  your  help, 
and  teach  you  to  be  less  unhappy." 

The  Emperor  shook  his  head.  "  Nothing,"  replied  he  moodily,  "  can 
ever  console  me.  Wherever  I  go,  I  shall  hear  the  rattle  of  my  prisoner's 
chain.  Let  us  speak  of  it  no  more.  I  thank  your  Majesty  for  the  per- 
mission to  leave  Vienna,  and  I  thank  you  for  this  bright  and  saci-ed  h(3ur 
whoso  memory  will  bless  me  as  long  as  I  live.  You  have  been  to  me 
this  day  a  tender  and  sympathising  mother.  May  1  henceforward  be  to 
you  a  grateful  and  obedient  son." 

"  You  have  not  yet  told  me  whither  you  design  to  travel,"  said  the 
Empress  after  a  pause.  v 

"  With  your  Majesty's  permission,  I  would  wish  to  travel  in  Bohemia 
and  Moravia,  and  then  I  wish  to  visit  the  courts  of  Dresden  and  Munich. 
Both  Sovereigns,  through  their  Ambassadors,  have  sent  me  urgent  invita- 
tions." 

"  It  would  be  uncourteous  to  refuse,"  said  the  Empress  earnestly. 
"It  is  politic  for  us,  as  far  as  possible,  to  bind  all  the  German  Princes  to 
us  by  interchange  of  kindness." 


192  JOSEPH  THE  SECOND. 

"  Since  this  is  youv  Majesty  s  opinion,  I  hope  that  you  •will  also  con- 
sent to  my  acceptance  of  a  third  invitation.  The  King  of  Prussia  has 
requested  to  have  an  interview  with  me  at  Torgau. 

The  brow  of  the  Empress  darkened. 

"The  King  of  Prussia  !"  said  she  almost  breathless. 

"  Yes,  your  Majesty  ;  and  to  be  frank  with  you  it  is  of  all  my  invita- 
tions the  one  which  I  most  desire  to  accept.  I  long  to  see  face  to  face 
the  King  whom  all  Europe,  friend  or  foe,  unites  in  calling  '  Frederick 
the  Great ' — great  not  only  as  a  hero,  but  also  as  a  law-giver." 

"  Yes,"  cried  the  Empress  with  indignation^  "The  King  whom  infi- 
dels delight  to  honor.  I  never  supposed  that  lie  would  presume  to  ap- 
proach my  son  and  heir  as  an  equal.  The  Margrave  of  Brandenburg 
has  a  right  to  hold  the  wash-basin  of  the  Emperor  of  Germany,  but  rae- 
thinks  he  forgets  his  rank  when  he  invites  him  to  an  interview." 

"  Ah,  yopr  Majesty,"  replied  Joseph  smiling,  "  the  Margrave  of  Bran- 
denburg has  proved  himself  to  be  a  King  to  our  sorrow  and  our  loss  ;  in 
more  than  one  battle  has  he  held  the  wash-basin  for  Austria's  Sovereign, 
but  it  was  to  fill  it  with  Austrian  blood." 

Maria  Theresa  grew  more  and  more  angry  as  she  heard  these  bold 
words.  "  It  ill  becomes  my  son,"  said  she,  "  to  be  the  panegyrist  of 
the  victor  whose  laurels  were  snatched  from  his  mother's  brow." 

"Justice  impels  rne  to  acknowledge' merit,  whether  I  see  it  in  friend 
or  foe,"  answered  the  Emperor.  "Frederick  of  Prussia  is  a  great  man, 
and  I  only  hope  that  I  may  ever  resemble  him." 

The  Empress  uttered  an  exclamation,  and  her  large  eyes  darted  light- 
ening glances. 

"  And  thus  speaks  my  son  of-  the  man  who  has  injured  and  robbed 
his  mother !"  exclaimed  she  indignantly.  "  My  son  would  press  his 
hand  who  has  spilled  such  seas  of  Austrian  blood — would  worship  as  a 
hero  the  enemy  of  his  race  !  But  so  long  as  I  reign  in  Austria,  noHaps- 
burger  shall  condescend  to  give  the  hand  to  a  Hohenzollern.  There  is 
an  old  feud  between  our  houses ;  it  cannot  be  healed." 

"  But  if  there  is  feud,  your  Majesty  perceives  that  it  is  not  the  fault 
bf  the  King  of  Prussia,  since  he  holds  out  the  right  hand  of  friendship. 
I  think  it  much  more  christian-like  to  bury  feuds  than  to  perpetuate 
them.  Your  Majesty  sees  then  how  Frederic  has  been  calumniated, 
since  he  follows  the  christian  precept  which  commands  us  to  forgive  our 
enemies."  . 

"  I  wish  to  have  nothing  to  do  with  him,"  said  the  Empress. 

— n"  But  as  I  had  the  honor  of  saying  before,  the  King  has  sent  me  a 
pressing  invitation,  and  you  said  just  now  that  it  would  be  uncourteous 
to  refuse." 

"  Not  the  invitation  of  Frederic.     I  will  not  consent  to  that." 

"  Not  even,  if  I  beg  it  as  a  favor  to  myself  ?"  asked  Joseph  fervently. 
"  Nol;  even  if  I  tell  you  that  I  have  no  wish  so  near  at  heart  as  that  of 
knowing  the  King  of  Prussia?  Think  of  this  day  so  brightened  to  mo 
by  the  sunshine  of  your  tenderness !    Let  tho  mother  plead  for  ine  with 


^  KING  OF  ROME.  193 

the  Sovereign ;  for  it  is  not  to  my  Empress,  it  is  to  my  mother  that  I 
confide  my  hopes  and  wishes.  Oh,  do  not  drown  the  harmony  of  this 
hour  in  discord  !     Do  not  interpose  a  cloUd  between  us  now !" 

The  Empress  threw  back  her  head — "  You  threaten  me,  Sir,  with  your 
displeasure  ?  If  there  are  clouds  between  us,  see  that  they  disperse  from 
your  own  brow,  and  show  me  the  face  of  a  loyal  subject  and  a  respectful 
son.  I  will  not  consent  to  this  visit  to  the  King  of  Prussia  :  the  very 
thought  of  it  is  galling  to  my  pride." 
I  — "Is  that  your  Majesty's  last  word?" 

— « It  is  my  last." 

"  Then  I  have  nothing  farther  to  say,  except  that,  as  in  a\ity  bound,  I 
will  obey  the  orders  of  my  Sovereign,"  replied  Joseph,  turning  deathly 
pale.  "  I  will  refuse  the  invitation  of  the  King  of  Prussia;  and  beg  leave 
to  retire." 

Without  awaiting  the  answer  of  his  mother,  ik  bowed,  and  hastily 
left  the  room. 

"Dismissed  like  a  school-boy  !"  muttered  he,  while  tears  of  rage  flow- 
ed down  his  cheeks.  "  Two  chains  on  my  feet — The  chains  of  this  ac- 
cursed marriage,  and  the  chains  of  my  filial  duty  impede  my  every  step. 
When  I  would  advance,  they  hold  me  back  and  eat  into  my  flesh.  But 
it  is  of  no  use  to  complain,  I  must  learn  to  bear  my  fate  like  a  man  !  I 
will  not  rebel '"lOpenly,  therefore  must  I  be  silent.  But  my  time  will 
come!" 

He  raised  his  head  proudly,  and  with  a  firm  step  took  the  way  to  his 
private  apartments.  He  went  at  once  into  his  study  where,  on  his  wri- 
ting-desk, lay  the  letter  of  the  King  of  Prussia. 

The  Emperor  seated  himself  at  the  desk,  and  with  a  heavy  sigh,  took 
up  his  pen.  "  Tell  the  King,  your  Master,"  wrote  he,  "  that  I  am  not 
yet  my  own  master,  I  am  the  slave  of  another  will.  But  I  will  find 
means  some  day  to  atone  for  the  rudeness  which  I  have  been  forced  to 
offer  him  in  return  for  his  kindness."  * 


CHAPTER  XLI. 

DEATH,  THE  LIBERATOR. 

The  cruel  enemy  which  had  laid  low  so  many  branches  of  the  noble 

house  of  Hapsburg,  had  once  more  found  entrance  into  the  imperial 

palace  at  Vienna.    This  terrific  invisible  foe,  which  from  generation  to 

generation  had  hunted  the  imperial  family  with  such  keen  ferocity,  was 

*  Hubner  ;  Life  of  Joseph  II.    Vol.  1,  p.  8T.— Gross  Hofflngcr.    Vol.  1,  p.  116. 

IS 


{ 94  jusEru  THE  sEco:<D. 

the  small-pox.  Emperors  and  Empresses  of  Austria  had  been  its  vic- 
tims, and  almost  every  one  of  Maria  Theresa's  children,  bore,  sooner  or 
later,  its  brand  upon  their  taces.  This  fiend  had  robbed  them  of  the  fair 
Isabella;  and  now  its  envenomed  hand  was  laid  upon  the  affianced  bride 
of  the  King  of  Naples.  The  beautiful  young  Jdhanmv  was  borne  to  the 
vaults  of  the  Capuchins,  while  in  the  palace  its  inmates  were  panic- 
stricken  to  hear  that  Joscpha  of  Bavaria,  too,  had  taken  the  infection. 

With  such  lightening  swiftness  had  the  venom  darted  through  the 
veins  of  the  unhappy  Empress,  that  her  attendants  had  fled  in  disgust 
from  the  pestiferous  atmosphere  of  her  chamber. 

And  there,  with  one  hired  nurse,  whom  the  humane  Van  Swieten  had 
procured  from  a  hospital,  lay  the  wife  of  the  Emperor  of  Austria. 

No  loving  hand  smoothed  the  pillow  beneath  her  burning  head,  or 
held  the  cooling  cup  to  her  blood-stained  lips  ;  no  friendly  voice  whis-  ^ 
pered  words  of  symp4.ihy,  or  familiar  face  bent  over  her  with  looks  of 
pity  and  of  sorrow. 

Alone  and  forsaken,  as  she  had  lived,  so  must  she  die  !  At  his  first 
wife's  bedside,  Joseph  had  watched  day  and  night;  but  Josepha,  he  did 
not  approach.  In  vain  had  she  sent  each  day  through  Van  Swieten,  a 
petition  to  see  him,  if  only  once  )  Joseph  returned,  for  all,  answer  that 
his  duty  to  his  mother  and  sisters  forbade  the  risk. 

And  there  lay  the  woman  whose  princely  station  mockgd  her  misery 
— there  she  lay,  unpitied.and  unloved.  The  inmates  of  the  palace  hur- 
ried past  the  infected  room,  stopping  their  breathing  as  they  ran  ;  the 
daughters  of  Maria  Theresa  never  so  much  as  enquired  whether  their  ab- 
horred sister-in-law  was  living  or  dead. 

But  the  poor  dying  Empress  was  not  all  alone.  Memory  was  there 
to  haunt  her  with  the  mournful  histories  of  her  past" life;  all  pale,  all 
tearful,  all  despairing  were  these  ghosts  of  an  existence  unchequered  by 
one  ray  of  happiness.  Ah,  with  what  a  heart  full  of  trembling  hope  had 
she  entered  the  walls  of  this  palace,  whicl;i  to  her  had  proved  a  prisoner's 
cell.  With  what  rapture  had  she  heard  the  approaching  st«p  of  that 
high-born  Emperor,  her  husband,  on  their  wedding-night;  and  oh!  how 
fearful  and  how  swift  had  fallen  the  bolt  of  his  vengeance  upon  her  sin  ! 
Memory  whispered  her  of  this. 

She  thought  of  the  Emperor  Francis,  of  his  tender  sympathy  with  her 
sorrow  ;  she  remembered  how  he  had  conspired  with  her  on  that  fatal 
night  at  Inspruck.  Then  she  remembered  her  husband's  scorn,  his  with- 
ering insults,  and  her  loss  of  consciousness.  She  thought  how  she  had 
been  found  on  the  floor,  and  awakened  by  the  terrifying  intelligence  of 
the  Emperor's  sudden  death.  Her  tears,  her  despair,  she  remembered 
all ;  and  her  wail  of  sorrow  at  the  loss  of  her  khidest  friend.*  Memory 
whispered  her  of  this. 

She  thought  of  her  dreary  -life  from  that  day  forward  ;  forever  the 
f;hrinking  victim  of  Christine's  sneers,  because  she,  and  not  the  sister^of 
Albert  of  Saxony,  had  become  the  Emperor's  wife..    Even  the  kind- 
*  Wrnxall,  vol.  2,  page  411. 


KIWO  OF  ROilE. 


195 


heiarted  Maria  Theresa  had  been  cold  to  her ;  even  she,  so  loving  so  af- 
fectionate had  never  loved  Josepha.  And  the  wretched  woman  thought 
how  one  day -when  the  imperial  fliraily  had  dined  together,  and  her  en- 
trance had  been  announced  as  that  of  "  Her  Majesty,  the  reigning  Em- 
press," the  Archduchesses  had  sneered,  and  their  mother  had  smOed  in 
derision.     Memory  whispered  her  of  this.* 

She  thought  how  her  poor,  martyred  heart  had  never  been  able  to  give 
np  all  hope  of  love  and  happiness— how  day  by  day  she  had  striven 
through  humility  and-obedience  to  appease  her  husband's  anger.  But 
he  had  always  repulsed  her.  One  day  she  had  resolved  that  he  should  see 
her.  She  knew  that  the  Emperor  was  in  the  daily  habit  of  sitting  on  the 
balcony  which  divided  her  apartments  from  his.  She  watched  his  com- 
ing, and  went  forward  to  meet  him.  But  when  he  saw  her,  in  spite  of 
her  tears  and  supplications,  with  a  gesture  of  disgust,  he  left  the  balcony 
and  closed  the  window  that  led  to  it.  The  next  day  when  she  ventured 
a  second  time  on  the  balcony,  she  found  it  separated  by  a  high  partition 
shutting  out  all  hope  of  seeing  her  husband  more.  And  she  remember' 
ed  how  one  day  afterwards,  when  she  stepped  out  upon  it,  and  her  hus 
band  became  aware  of  her  presence,  he  had,  in  sight  of  all  the  passers- 
by,  started  back  into  his  room,  and  flung  down  his  window  with  violence  f 
Memory  whispered  her  of  this.  * ' 

But  now  that  she  had  expiated  her  first  fault  by  two  years  of  bitter 
repentance,  now  that  death  was  about  to  free  him  from  her  hated  pre- 
sence forever,  surely  he  would  have  mercy,  and  forgive  her  the  crime  of 
having  darkened  his  life  by  their  unhappy  union.  v 

Oh,  that  once  more  &lie  could  look  into  the  heaven  of  those  deep  blue 
eyes !  That  once  more  before  she  died,  she  could  hear  the  music  of  that 
voice  which  to  her  was  like  the  harmony  of  angels'  tongues  ! 

In  vain  ! Ever  came  Van  Swieten  with  the  same  cold  message— 

"The  Emperor  cannot  compromise  the  safety  of  his  relatives." - 

At  last,  in  the  energy  of  despair,  Josepha  sat  erect  in  her  bed  and 
with  her  livid,  bloody  hands,  she  had  written  a  letter  which  Van  Swie- 
ten,  at  her  earnest  entreaty,  delivered  to  the  Emperor. 

When,  after  a  short  absence,  he  returned  with  another  denial  Jose- 
pha gave  such  a  shriek  of  anguish  that  it  was  heard  throughout  the  palace" 

Van  Swieten,  overwhelmed  by  pity  for  the  poor  martyr,  felt  that  he* 
must  make  one  more  effort  in  her  behalf.     He  could  do  nothing  for  her- 
bodily,  she  was  beyond  his  power  to  heal ;  but  he  was  resolved   to  be 
the  physician  of  her  broken  heart,  and,  if  it  lay  within  the  power  of  man 
to  soothe  and  comfort  her  dying  moments.  * 

With  the  letter  which  Joseph  had  returned  to  him,  he  hastened  to  the 

Empress  Maria  Theresa.     To  her  he  pictured   the  agony  of  her  dyin^r 

.  daughter-in-law,  and  besought  her  to  soften  the  Emperor's  heart.  ^ 

The  Empress  listened  to  the  long-tried  friend  of  her  house,  with  deep 
emotion;  Tears  of  sympathy  gathered  in  her  eyes,  and  fell  over  her 
pale  cheeks. 

*  nubner :  Life  of  Joseph  II.,  page  2T        t  Caroline  Pichler :  Memoirs;  vol.  1,  page  182. 


196  JOSEPH  THE  SECOND 

"  Joseph  will  not  grant  her  request,  because  he  fears  the  infection  for 
us  1"  asked  she. 

— "  Yes,  your  Majesty,  that  is  his  pretext." 

"  He  need  not  fear  for  me,  and  he  can  remain  at  a  distance  from  the 
other  members  of  the  family,"  said  Maria  Theresa.  "  But  I  know  what 
are  his  real  sentiments.  He  hates  Josepha,  and  it  is  his  hatred  alone 
that  prevents  him  from  granting  her  petition.  He  has  a  hard,  unforgiv- 
ing heart ;  he  will  never  pardon  his  wife,  not  even  when  she  lies'  cold  in 
her  grave." 

"  And  she  will  not  die  until  she  has  seen  him,"  returned  Van  Swieten 
sadly.  "It  seems  as  if  she  had  power  to  keep  off  death  until  the  last 
aim  of  her  being  has  been  reached.  Oh,  it  is  fearful  to  see  a  soul  of  such 
fire  and  resolution  in  a  body  already  decaying  !" 

The  Empress  shuddered.  "  Come,  Van  Swieten,"  said  she  resolutely, 
"  I  will  know  how  to  force  Joseph  to  the  bedside  of  his  poor,  dying  wife." 

She  rose  and  would  have  gone  to  the  door,  but  Van  Swieten,  all  cer- 
emony forgetting,  held  her  back. 

'•  1  will  call  the  Emperor  myself,"  said  he,  "  whither  would  your  Ma- 
jesty go  ?" 

"  Do  not  detain  me,"  cried  the  Empress,  "  I  must  go  to  the  Emperor." 

"But  what  then?"  asked  Van  Swieten,  alarmed.  The  Empress,  who 
had  already  crossed  her  ante-room,  looked  back  with  a  countenance 
beaming  with  noble  energy. 

"  I  will  do  my  duty,"  replied  she.  "  I  will  do  what  christian  feeling 
prompts.     I. will  go  to  Josepha." 

"  No,  your  Majesty,  no  !"  cried  Van  Swieten,  again  laying  hands  up- 
on his  Sovereign.  "  You  owe  it  to  your  people  and  your  children  not 
to  expose  yourself  to  danger." 

The  Empress  smiled  sadly.  "  Doctor  where  did  Isabella  and  Johanna 
take  the  infection  ?  God  called  them  to  Himself,  and  God  has  shielded 
me.  If  it  pleases  Him  that  I  also  shall  suffer  this  fearful  scourge  it  will 
not  be  from  contagion.     It  will  be  from  His  divine  hand." 

"  No,  no,  your  Majesty,  it  will  be  my  fault,"  cried  Van  Swieten,  "  on 
my  head  will  be  the  sin." 

"  I  free  you  from  all  responsibility,"  replied  she,  "and  say  no  more, 
for  it  is  my  duty  to  visit  this  deserted  woman's  death-bed.  I  have  been 
less  kind  to  her  than  I  should  have  been,  and  less  indulgent  than  on  my 
death-bed  I  will  wish  to  have  been.  I  have  not  been  a  tender  mother 
to  her,  living — let  me  comfort  her,  at  least,  now  that  she  is  dying." 

"  But  she  has  not  asked  for  your  Majesty,"  persisted  Van  Swieten. 
«  Wherefore " 

But  suddenly  he  stopped,  and  a  cry  of  horror  was  stifled  between  his 
lips.  He  had  seen  upon  the  forehead  and  cheeks  of  the  Empress  those 
small,  dark  spots  which  revealed  to  his  experienced  eye  that  it  was  too 
late  to  shield  her  from  infection. 

Maria  Theresa  was  too  excited  to  remark  the  paleness  of  Van  Swie- 
ten.    She  continued : 


KI]S(;  Ob   ROME.  197 

"Go  to  Joseph  and  tell  him  that  I  iiwait  him  at  the  death-bed  of  his 
wife.  He  will  not  dare  to  refuse  her  now.  Go,  doctor,  we  must  both 
do  our  duty." 

Van  Swieten  stepped  aside,  for  he  had  blocked  the  door. 

" Go,  jour  Majesty,"  said  he  almost  inaudibly.  "I  will  not  detain 
you,  but  will  see  the  Emperor."     He  turned  away,  sick  at  heart.     "  One 

Empress  dying,  and  another ! Oh,  God  grant  me  help  that  I  may 

save  my  beloved  Jlaria  Theresa  !" 

Meanwhile  the  Empress  hurried  through  the  deserted  halls  of  the  pal- 
ace to  the  room  of  the  unhappy  Josepha.  As  she  approached  the  door, 
she  heard  her  voice  in  tones  of  bitterest  anguish.  The  sound  filled  the 
heart  of  Maria  Theresa  with  deepest  sympathy  and  sorrow.  For  one 
moment  she  stood  irresolute,  then  gathering  j<l  her  strength,  she  opened 
the  door  and  went  in.  At  the  foot  of  the  bed  knelt  two  Ursuline  nuns  ; 
those  angels  of  mercy  who  are  ever  present  to  comfort  the  dying.  The 
entrance  of  the  Empress  did  not  interrupt  their  prayers.  They  knew 
that  no  one  could  rescue  the  dying  woman;  they  were  praying  heaven 
to  comfort  her  departing  soul. 

But  was  she  comforted?  She  ceased  her  lamentations  and  now  lay 
still.  She  had  heard  the  door  open,  and  had  struggled  to  rise,  but  she 
was  too  weak,  and  sank  back  with  a  groan.  But  she  had  seen  the  Em- 
press, who,  with  the  courage  of  a  noble  spirit,  had  conquered  her  disgust, 
and  advancing  to  the  bed,  bent  over  Josepha  with  a  sweet,  sad  smile. 
Josepha  saw  it,  and  the  Empress  looked  more  beautiful  to  her  dying 
eyes  than  she  had  ever  looked  before. 

"  God  bless  you,  my  poor  daughter,"  whispered  she  in  broken  accents. 
"  I  come  to  give  you  a  mother's  blessing  and  to  beg  of  Almighty  God 
10  give  you  peace." 

"  Peace  !  peace !"  echoed  the  sufferer,  while  the  Empress,  with  a  shud- 
der, surveyed  her  black  and  bloated  face.  Suddenly  she  uttered  a  cry, 
and  opened  her  arms.  "  He  comes  !  he  comes  !"  cried  she ;  and  her  dy- 
ing eyes  opened  with  a  ray  of  joy. 

Yes — he  came ;  he  whom  she  had  so  longed  to  see.  "When  Van  Swie- 
ten told  him  that  his  mother  had  gone  to  Josepha's  room,  he  started 
from  his  seat,  and  hurried  through  the  corridor  with  such  wild  speed  that 
the  physician  was  unable  to  follow  him. 

Hastily  approaching  the  bed,  he  put  his  arms  gently  around  his  mo- 
ther, and  sought  to  lead  her  away.  "Mother,"  said  he,  imploringly, 
"leave  this  room;  it  is  my  duty  to  be  here,  not  yours.  Bid  adieu  to 
the  Empress  Josepha,  and  go  from  hence." 

"  Oh!  oh!"  groaned  Josepha,  falling  back  upon  her  pillow,  "  he  does 
not  come  for  my  sake,  but  for  his  mother's." 

"Yes,  Josepha,"  replied  Joseph,  "I  am  here  for  your  sake  also,  and  I 
will  remain  with  you." 

"  I  also  will  remain,"  sa!d  Maria  Tlieresa.  "  This  sacred  hour  shall 
unite  in  love  thosq  who  so  long  have  been  severed  by  error  and  misap- 
prehension.   Life  is  a  succession  of  strivings  to  do  well  and  relapses 


]  98  -       JOSCPH   I'HK  SECOW D. 

)n*o  Wrong.  We  too,  h.ive  erred  towards  you,  and  we  coftie  with  over- 
flowing hearts  to  crave  forgiveness.  Forgive  'us,  Josepha,  as'  you  hope 
to  be  fyrgivea !" 

"  Forgive  me  also,  Josepha,"  said  Joseph  \7ith  genuine  emotion. 
"  Let  us  part  in  peace.  Forgive  me  my  obduracy,  as  from  my  soul  I 
forgive  you.     We  have  both  been  unhappy " 

"  No,"  interrupted  Josepha,  "  I  have  not  been  unhappy,  for  I — I  have 
loved.  I  die  happy,  for  he  whom  I  love,  no  longer  turns  abhorrent  from 
my  presence.  1  will  die  by  the  light  of  your  pardoning  smile.  Death 
that  comes  every  moment  nearer,  death,  to  me,  brings  happiness.  He 
comes  with  his  cold  kiss,  to  take  my  parting  breath — the  only  kiss  my 
lips  have  ever  felt.  He  brings  me  love  and  consolation.  He  takes  from 
niy  face  the  hideous  mask'  which  it  has  worn  through  life,  and  my  soul's 
beauty,  in  another  world,  shall  win  me  Joseph's  love!  Oh,  death,  the 
comforter  !  I  feel  thy  kiss.     Farewell,  Joseph,  farewell !" 

"  Farewell,"  whispered  Joseph  and  Maria  Theresa. 

A  fearful  pause  ensued — a  slight  spasm — a  gasp — and  all  was  over. 

"  She  is  released  !"  said  Van  Swieten.     "  May  her  soul  rest  in  peace." 

The  Ursuliues  entoned  the  prayers  for  the  dead,  and  Maria  Theresa, 
in  tears  clasped  her  hands  and  faltered  out  the  responses.  Suddenly  she 
reeled,  heaved  a  sigh,  and  fell  back  in  the  Emperor's  arms. 

"  My  mother,  my  dear  mother,"  cried  he,  terrified.  Van  Swieten 
touched  him  lightly.  "  Do  not  arouse  her.  Yonder  sleeps  the  one  Fm- 
press  in  death — her  pains  are  past ;  but  this  one,  our  beloved  Maria 
Theresa,  has  yet  to  suffer.     May  God  be  merciful  and  spare  her  life!" 

"  Her  life  !"  cried  Joseph,  turning  pale. 

— "  Yes,  her  life,"  said  Van  Swieten  solemnly.  "  The  !jEmpress  has  the 
small-pox."* 


CHAPTER    XLII. 

THE  MIRROR. 

Six  fearful  weeks  had  gone  by ;  six  weeks  of  anxiety,  suspense,  and 
care,  not  only  for  the  imperial  family,  but  for  all  Austria.  Like  the 
lighlening's  flash,  intelligence  had  gone  through  the  land  that  the  Em- 
press was  in  danger ;  and  her  subjects  had  lost  interest  in  everything 

*  The  Empress  Josepha  died  May  28, 1767,  at  the  age  of  twenty-nine  years.  Her  body  was  so  de- 
cayed by  small-pox  that,  before  her  death,  the  flesh  fell  from  her  in  pieces.  It  was  so  completely  de- 
composed that  it  was  impossible  to  pay  it  the  customary  funeral  honors.  It  was  hurriedly  wrapped 
up  in  a  linen  cloth,  and  oofBned.  From  thence  a  rumor  prevailed  in  Bavaria  that  she  had  not  died, 
bit  had  been  forced  into  a  cloister  by  her  husband. 


p.\cept  the  bulletins  issued  from  the  palace,  where  VanSwieteu  and  Von 
Si  oik  watched  day  and  night  by  the  bedside  of  their  beloved  sovereign. 
Deputations  were  sent  to  Vienna  sympathising  with  the  Emperor  ;  and 
theavenues  to  the  palace  were  thronged  with  thousands  of  anxious  faces, 
each  waiting  eagerly  for  the  bulletins  that  came  out  four  times  a  day. 
At.  last  the  danger  had  passed  away.     Van  Swieten  slept  at  home, 

and  the  Empress  was  recovering. 

She  had  recovered.  Leaning  on  the  arm  of  the  Emperor  and  sur- 
rounded by  her  happy  children,  Maria  Theresa  left  her  widow's  cell  to 
take  up  her  abode  in  the  new  and  splendid  apartments  which  Joseph  du- 
ring her  convalescence,  had  prepared  for  her  reception. 

She  thanked  her  son  for  his  loving  attention,  so  contrary  to  his  usual 
habits  of  economy,  and  therefore  so  much  the  more  aproof  of  his  earnest 
desire  to  give  pleasure  to  his  mother.  She,  in  her  turn,  sought  to  give 
strun"  expression  to  her  gratitude,  by  admiring  with  enthusiasm  all  that 
had  been  done  for  her.  She  stopped  to  examine  the  costly  Turkey  car- 
pets, the  gorgeous  Gobelin  tapestries  on  the  walls,  the  tables  carved  of 
precious  woods,  or  inlaid  with  jewels  and  Florentine  mosaic,  the  rich 
furniture  covered  with  velvet  and  gold,  the  magnificent  lustres  of  spark- 
lin<T  crystal,  and  the  elegant  trifles  that  here  and  there  were  tastefully 
disposed  upon  ctag'eres  or  consoles. 

"  Indeed,  my  son,"  cried  the  Empress,  surveying  the  beautiful  suite^ 
"you  have  decorated  these  rooms  with  the  taste  and  prodigality  of  a 
woman.  It  adds  much  to  my  enjoyment  of  their  beauty  to  think  that 
all  this  is  the  work  of  your  loving  hands.  But  one  thing  has  my  princely 
son  forgotten ;  and  therein  he  betrays  his  sex,  showing  that  he  is  no  wo- 
man, but  in  very  truth  a  man." 

"  Have  I  forgotten  something,  your  Majesty,"  asked  Joseph. 
— "Yes;  something,  my  son,  which  a  woman  could  never  have  over- 
looked.    There  are  no  mirrors  in  my  splendid  home." 

"  No  mirrors !"  exclaimed  Joseph,  looking  confused.  "  No — yes — 
indeed  your  Majesty  is  right,  I  had  forgotten  them.  But  I  bog  a  thou- 
sand pardons  for  my  negligence,  and  I  will  see  that  it  is  repaired;  I 
shall  order  fhe  costliest  Venitian  mirrors  to  be  made  for  these  apart- 
ments." 

While  Joseph  spoke,  his  mother  had  looked  earnestly  at  his  "blushing 
face,  and  had  perfectly  divined  both  his  embarrassment  and  its  cause. 
She  turned  her  eyes  upon  her  daughters,  who,  with  theirs  cast  down, 
were  sharing  their  brother's  perplexity. 

''I  mu^t  wait  then  until  my  mirrors  are  made,"  said  the  Empress  af- 
ter a  pause.  "  You  must  think  that  I  have  less  than  woman's  vanity, 
my  son,  if  you  expect  me  to  remain  for  weeks  without  a  greeting  from 
my  looking-glass.  Of  course  the  small-pox  has  not  dared  to  disfigure^ 
the  face  of  an  Empress;  I  feel  secure  against  its  sacrilegeous  tou6h.  Is 
it  not  80,  my  little  Marie  Antoinette,  has  it  not  respected  your  mother's 
comeliness  1" 

The  little  Archduchess  looked  frightened  at  her  mother's  question,  and 


raised  her  large  eyes  timidly.     "  My  imperial  mama  is  as  handsome  as 
ever  she  was,"  said  the  child,  in  a  trembling  voice. 

"  And  she  will  always  be  handsome  to  us,  should  she  live  until  old 
a<Te  shall  have  wrinkled  her  fiice  and  paled  her  cheeks,"  cried  Joseph 
warmly.  "  The  picture  of  her  youthful  grace  and  beauty  is  engraved 
upon  our  hearts,  and  nothing  can  ever  remove  it  thence.  A  noble  and 
beloved  mother,  to  the  eyes  of  her  children,  is  always  beautiful." 

The  Empress  said  nothing  in  reply.  She  smiled  affectionately  upon 
her  son,  and  inclining  her  head  kindly  to  the  others,  she  retired  to  her 
sitting-room.  •  She  walked  several  times  up  and  down,  and  finally  ap- 
proached her  mirror.  In  accordance  with  an  old  superstition,  which  pro- 
nounces it  ill-luck  to  allow  a  looking-glass  in  the  room  of  a  sick  person, 
this  large  mirror  had  been  covered  with  a  heavy  silk  curtain.  The  Em- 
press drew  it  back,  but  instead  of  her  looking-glass,  she  was  confronted 
by  a  portrait  of  her  late  husband,  the  Emperor.  She  uttered  an  excla- 
mation of  surprise  and  joy,  and  contemplated  the  picture  with  a  happy 
smile.  "  God  bless  thee^  my  Franz,  my  noble  Emperor,"  whispered 
she.  "Thou  art  ever  the  same  ;  thy  dear  smile  is  unaltered,  although 
I  am  no  longer  thy  handsome  bride,  but  a  hideous  and  disfigured  being ; 
from  whom  my  children  deem  it  fit  to  conceal  a  looking-glass.  Look 
at  me  with  thy  dear  eyes,  Franz ;  thou  wert  ever  my  mirror,  and  in  thy 
li^ht  have  I  seen  my  brightest  days  of  earthly  joy.  My  departed  beau- 
ty leaves  me  not  one  pang  of  regret,  since  thou  art  gone  for  whom  alone 
I  prized  it.  Maria  Theresa  has  ceased  to  be  a  woman — she  is  nothing 
more  than  a  Sovereign,  and  what  to  her  are  the  scars  of  the  small-pox  1 
— But  I  must  see  what  I  look  like,"  said  she  dropping  the  curtain.  I 
will  show  them  that  I  am  not  as  foolish  as  they  imagine." 

She  took  up  her  little  golden  bell  and  rang.  The  door  of  the  next 
room  opened,  and  Charlotte  Von  Hieronymus  entered.  The  Empress 
smiled  and  said,  "  It  is  time  to  make  my  toilet.  I  will  dine  to-day  en 
famille  with  the  Emperor,  and  1  must  be  dressed.  Let  us  go  then  into 
my  dressing-room."  • 

The  maid  of  honor  curtsied  and  opened  the  door.     Every  thing  there 

was  ready  for  the  Empress.     The  tire- women,  the  mistress  of  the  ward- 

I  robe,  the  maids  of  honor  were  all  at  their  posts ;  and  Charlotte  hastened 

to  take  her  place  behind  the  large  arm-chair  in  which  the  Empress  was 

accustomed  to  have  her  hair  dressed. 

Maria  Theresa  saw  that  she  had  not  been  expected  quite  so  soon  in 
her  dressing-room,  for  her  cheval-glass  was  encumbered  with  shawls, 
dresses,  and  cloaks.  She  took  her  seat,  smilingly  saying  to  herself,  "  I 
shall  see  myself  now,  face  to  face." 

Charlotte  passed  the  comb  through  the  short  hair  of  the  Empress,  and 
sighed  as  she  thought  of  the  offering  that  had  been  laid  in  the  Emperor's 
coffin  ;  while  the  other  maids  of  honor  stood  silent  around.  Maria  The- 
resa, usually  so  familiar  and  talkative,  at  this  hour,  spoke  not  a  word.^ 
She  looked  sharply  at  the  cheval-glass,  and  began  carelessly,  and  as  if 
by  chance,  to  remove  with  her  foot  the  dresses  that  encumbered  it ;  then, 


KI^G  OF  llOAIK  .  201 

as  If  ashamed  of  her  artifice,  she  suddenly  rose  from  her  chair  and  with 
an  energetic  gesture,  unbarred  the  mirror. 

,  No  mirror  was  there  ! Nothing  greeted  the  Empress's  eyes  save 

the  empty  frame.  She  turned  a  reproachful  glance  upon  the  little 
coiffeuse. 

Charlotte  fell  upon  her  knees,  and  looked  imploringly  at  the  Empress. 
"  It  is  my  fault,  yeur  Majesty,"  said  she,  blushing  and  trembling,  "I 
alone  am  the  culprit.     Pardon  my  maladroiuiess,  1  pray  you." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  child  ?"  asked  the  Empress. 

"  I — I  broke  the  looking-glass,  your  Majesty.  I  stumbled  over  it  in 
the  dark  and  shivered  the  glass  in  pieces.  I  am  very,  very  awkward — 
I  am  very  sorry." 

"  What !  You  overturned  this  heavy  mirror !"  said  Maria  Theresa. 
*'  If  so,  there  must  have  been  a  fearfal  crash.  Plow  comes  it  that  I  never 
heard  any  thing,  I  who  for  six  weeks  have  been  ill  in  the  adjoining  room  V 

— "  It  happened  just  at  the  time  when  your  Mnjesty  was  delirious 
with  fever,  and " 

— ••' And  this  mirror  has  been  broken  for  three  weeks!"  said  Maria 
Theresa,  raising  her  eyebrows  and  looking  intently  at  Charlotte's  blush- 
ing flice.  "  Three  weeks  ago  !  I  think  you  might  have  had  it  replaced, 
Charlotte,  by  this  time;  hey,  child?" 

Charlotte's  eyes  sought  the  floor.  At  length  she  stammered,  in  a  voice 
scarcely  audible,  "  Please  your  Majesty,  I  could  not  suppose  that  you 
would  miss  the  glass  so  soon.  YoU  have  made  so  little  use  of  mirro'rs 
since " 

"  Enough  of  this  nonsense,"  interrupted  the  Empress.  *' You  have 
been  well-drilled,  and  have  played  your  part  with  some  talent,  but  don't 
imagine  that  I  am  the  dupe  of  all  this  pretty  f  acting.  Get  up,  child, 
don't  make^a  fool  of  yourself,  but  put  on  my  crape  cap  lor  me,  and  then 
go  as  quickly  as  youcan  for  a  looking  glass." 

— "A  looking-^lass,  your  Majesty  !"  cried  Charlotte  in  a  frightened 
voice. 

"  A  looking-glass,"  repeated  the  Empress  emphatically. 

— "  I  have  none,  your  Majesty." 

— '*  Well,  then,"  said  Maria  Theresa,  her  patience  sorely  tried  by  all 
this,  "let  some  one  with  better  eyes  than  yqurs  look  for  one.  Go, 
Sophie,  and  bid  one  of  the  pages  bring  me  a  mirror  from  my  old  apart- 
ments below — I  do  not  suppose  that  there  has  been  a  general  crashing 
of  all  the  mirrors  in  the  palace.  In  a  quarter  of  an  hour  I  shall  be  in 
my  sitting-room.  At  the  end  ,of  tTiat  time  the  mirror  must  be  there — 
Be  quick,  Sophie,  and  you,  Charlotte,  finish  the  combing  of  my  hair. 
There  is  but  little  to  do  to  it  now,  so  dry  your  tears." 

"  Ah!"  whispered  Charlotte,  "I  would  there  were  more  to  do.  I 
cannot  help  crying,  your  Majesty,  when  I  see  the  ruins  of  that  beautiful 
hair." 

"  And  yet,  poor  child,  you  have  spent  so  many  weary  hours  over  it," 
replied  the  Empress.    "  You  ought  to  be  glad  that  your  delicate  little 


202  JOSEPH   THE  SKOUNU. 

hands  are  no  longer  obliged  to  bear  its  weight."  -►  "  Charlotte,"  said  she 
suddenly,  "  you  have  seveial  times  asked  for  your  dismissal.  Now, 
yoii  shall  have  it,  and  you  shall  marry  your  lover,  Counsellor  Greiner. 
1  niyseif  will  give  you  away,  and  bestow  the  dowry." 

'ihe  grateful  girl  pressed  the  hand  of  the  Empress  to  Her  lips,  while 
she  whispered  words  of  love  and  thanks. 

Maria  Theresa  smiled,  and  took  her  seat,  while  Charlotte  completed 
her  toilet.  Maich-making  was  the  Empress's  great  weakness,  and  she 
was  in  hi^  spirits  over  the  prospect  of  marrying  Charlotte. 

The  simple,  mourning  coslume  was  soon  donned,  and  the  Empress 
rose- to  leave  her  dressing  room.  As  she  passed  the  empty  frame  of  the 
Psyche,  she  turned  laughing  towards  her  maid  of  honor. 

"I  give  you  this  mirror,  Charlotte,"  said  she.  "If  the  glass  is  really 
broken,  it  shall  be  replaced  by  the  costliest  one  that  Venice  can  produce. 
It  will  be  to  you  a  souvenir  of  your  successful  debut  as  an  actress  on  this 
day.  You  have  really  done  admirably.  But  let  me  tell  you  one  thing 
my  child,"  continued  Maria  Theresa,  taking  Charlotte's  hand  in  hers. 
*•  Never  be  an  actress  with  your  husband;  but  let  your  heart  be  reflec- 
ted in  all  your  words  and  deeds,  as  yonder  mirror  will  give  back  the 
truthful  picture  of  your  foce.  Let  all  be  clear  and  bright  in  your  mar- 
ried intercourse;  and  see  that  no  breath  of  deception  ever  cloud  its  sur- 
face. Take  this  wedding-gift,  and  cherish  it  as  a  faithful  monitor.  Truth 
is  a  light  that  comes  to  us  from  heaven  ;  let  us  look  steadily  at  it,  for 
evil  as  well  as  for  good.  This  is  the  hour  of  my  trial — no  great  one — 
but  still  a  trial.  Let  me  now  look  at  Truth,  and  learn  to  bear  the  reve- 
lation it  is  about  to  make." 

She  opened  the  door,  and  entered  her  sitting-room.  Her  commands 
had  been  obeyed,  the  mirror  was  in  its  place.  She  advanced  with  reso- 
lute step,  but  as  she  approached  the  glass,  her  eyes' were  instinctively 
cast  down  until  she  stood  directly  before  it.  The  decisive  moment  had 
arrived — she  was  to  see what? 

Slowly  her  eyes  were  raised,  and  she  looked.  She  uttered  a  low  cry, 
and  started  back  in  horror.  She  had  seen  a  strange,  scarred,  empurpled 
face,  whose  colourless  lips  and  hard  features  had  filled  her  soul  with 
loathing. 

But  with  all  the  streigth  of  her  brave  and  noble  heart,  Maria  Theresa 
overcame  the  shock,  and  looked  again.  She  forced  her  eyes  to  contem- 
plate the  fearful  image  that  confronted  her  once  beautiful  face,  and  long 
and  earnestly  she  gazed  upon  it. 

"  Well !"  said  she,  at  last,  with  a  sigh,  "  I  must  make  acquaintance 
with  this  caricature  of  my  former  self.  I  must  accustom  myself  to  tbe 
mortifying  f^t  that  this  is  Maria  Theresa,  or  I  might  some  of  these  days 
call  for  a  page  to  drive  out  that  hideous  old  crone ! — T  must  learn,  too,  to 
be  resigned,  for  it  is  the  hand  of  my  heavenly  Father  that  has  covered 
my  face  with  this  grotesque  mask.  Since  He  has  thought  fit  to  deprive 
me  of  my  beauty,  let  His  divine  will  be  done.". 

She  remained  for  some  moments  silent;  still  gazing  intently  at  the 


KING  OK  KOAlJi.  203 

mirror.  Finally  a  smile  overspr^d  her  entiio  counteuance,  and  sh& 
nodded  at  the  image  in  the  glass. 

"  Well !  You  ugly  old  woman,"  said  she  aloud,  "  we  have  begun  our 
acquaintance.  Let  us  bo  good  friends.  I  do  not  intend  to  make  6iie 
effort  to  lesson  your  ugliness  ^y  womanly  art ;  I  must  seek  to  win  its  par- 
don from  the  world  by  noble  deeds  and  a  well-spent  life.  Perhaps,  in 
future  d^ys,  when  my  subjects  lament  my  homeliness,  they  may  add  that 

nevertheless  1  was  a  ffood,  and well !  in  this  hour  of  humiliation  we 

may  praise  one  another,  I  think perchance  a  gi'eat  soverei|n." 

Here  the  Empress  turned  from  the  mirror  and  crossing  over  to  the 
spot  where  the  Emperor's  portrait  hung,  she  continued  her  soliloquy. 
"  But  Franz,  dear  Franz,  you  at  least  are  spared  the  sight  of  your  The- 
resa's transformation.  I  could  not  have  borne  this  as  1  do,  if  yoii  had 
been  here  to  witness  it.  Now!  what  matters  it?  My  people  will  not 
remind  me  of  it,  and  my  children  have  already  promised  to  love  me, 
and  forgive  my  deformity.  Sleep  then,  my  beloved,  until  I  rejoin  you 
in  heaven.  There,  the  mask  will  fall  for  me,  as  for  poor  Josepha,  and 
there  we  shall  be  glorified  and  happy." 

The  Empress  then  returned  to  the  dressing-room  where  her  attend- 
ants,  anxious  and  unhappy,  awaited  her  ro-appearance.  What  was  their 
astonishment  to  see  her  tranquil  and  smiling,  not  a  trace  of  discontent 
upon  her  countenance ! 

"  Let  the  steward  of  the  household  be  apprized  that  I  will  have  mir- 
rors in  all  my  apartments.  They  can  be  hung  at  once,  and  may  be  re- 
placed by  those  which  the  Emperor  has  ordered,  whenever  they  arrive 
from  Venice.  Let  rny  page  Gustavus*^  repair  to  Cardinal,  Migazzi  ai.d 
inform  him  that  to-morrow  I  will  make  my  public  thanksgiving  in  the 
Cathedral  of  St.  Stephens.  I  shall  go  on  foot  and  in  the  midst  of  my 
people,  that  they  may  see  me  and  know  that  I  am  not  ashamed  of  the 
judgments  of  God.  Let  Prince  Kaunitz  be  advised  that  on  to-piorrov/» 
after  the  holy  sacrifice,  I  will  receive  him  here — Open  my  doors  and  win- 
dows,  and  let  us  breathe  the  free  air  of  heaven.  I  am  no  longer  an  in-* 
vali'd,  my  friends ;  I  am  strong,  and  ready  to  begin  life  anew." 


CHAPTER  XLIIL 

THE    INTERVIEW    WITH   KAUNITZ. 


From  earliest  morning  the  streets  of  Vienna  had  been  thronged  by  &^ 
joyous  multitude,  eagerly  awaiting  the  sight  of  their  restored  Sovereign. 
All  Vienna  had  mourned  when  the  Empress  lay  ill ;  all  Vienna  now  r^ 


204  JUSEhH  THE  SKCO^'D 

juiced  that  she  had  recovered.  Maria  Theresa's  road  to  the  church  was 
one  long  triumph — the  outpouring  of  the  sincere  love  which  filled  the 
hearts  of  her  subjects.  The  Empress  had  done  nothing  to  court  this 
homage  ;  for  the  notice  given  to  the  Cardinal  had  been  as  short  as  it 
possibly  could  be;  but  the  news  of  the  thanksgiving  had  flown  from  one 
end  of  Vienna'to  the  other ;  and  every  corporation  and  society,  the  stu- 
dents of  every  college,  and  every  citizen  that  was  at  liberty  to  leave 
home,  flocked  to  congratulate  the  well-beloved  Sovereign,  Tllfe  streets 
through  wbich  she  had  to  pass,  were  lined  with  people  bearing  flags, 
banners  and  emblems,  while  near  them  stood  the  children  of  the  educa- 
tional and  orphan  asylums,  which  had  been  endowed  by  the  munificence 
of  the  Empress.  Lofty  and  lowly,  rich  and  poor,  stood  in  friendly  con- 
tact, with  each  other ;  even  the  nobles,  imitating  Maria  Theresa's  affa- 
bility, mixed  smiling'and  free  among  the  people.  All  sense  of  rank  and 
station  seemed  lost  in  the  univers^al  joy  of  the  hour. 

The  bells  chimed,  and  the  people  rent  the  air  with  shouts ;  for  this 
was  the  signal  of  the  Empress's  sortie  from  the  palace,  and  her  people 
knew  that  she  was  coming  to  meet  them.  At  last  they  saw  her ; — ■ 
leaning  on  the  arm'  of  the  Emperor,  and  followed  by  her  other  children 
she  came,  proud  and  resolute  as  ever.  It  was  a  beautiful  sight,  this 
Empress  with  her  ten  lovely  sons  and  daughters,  all  joyful  and  smiling, 
as  like  simple  subjects  they  walked  through  the  streets  towards  the 
church  to  thank  God  for  her  recovery. 

Inexpressible  joy  beamed  from  Maria  Theresa's  eyes — those  superb 
eyes  whose  light  the  small-pox  could  not  quench.  Her  great  and  noble 
soul  looked  out  from  their  azure  depths,  and  her  head  seemed  encircled 
by  a  glory.  In  this  hour  she  was  no  **  ugly  old  crone,"  she  was  the  hap- 
py, proud  triumphant  Empress,  who  in  the  eyes  of  her  people  was  both 
beautiful  and  beloved.  For  the  moment  lier  widow's  sorrows  were  for- 
gotten;  and  when  surrounded  by  so  many  loyal  hearts,  she  sank  on  her 
knees  before  the  altar  of  St.  Stephens,  she  thanked  God  for  the  joy  of 
this  hour,  and  made  a  vow  that  her  whole  life  should  be  devoted  to  the 
welfare  of  the  people  who  on  this  day  had  given  her  so  touching  a  wel- 
come. 

Exhausted  not  only  by  emotion,  but  by  the  heat  of  the  July  sua 
which  shone  on  her  head  as  she  returned,  the  Empress  at  last  reache'd 
her  own  rooms.  Her  tire-women  hastened  to  relieve  her  of  her  cover- 
ings and  to  dry  Jier  moistened  hair  and  face.     But  she  waved  them  back. 

"  No,  no,  my  friends,  let  me  refresh  myself  in  my  own  way.  The  air 
is  more  skillful  than  your  hands,  and  is  softer  than  your  napkins.  Open 
the  doors  and  the  windows,  and  place  my  arm-chair  in  the  middle  of 
the  room." 

"  But,  your  Majesty,"  remonstrated  one  of  the  maids  of  honor,  "  you 
'forget  your  condition.     The  draught  will  do  you  injury." 

"  I  do  not  know  what  such  fastidious  pe"ople  mean  by  a  draught,"  re- 
plied the  Empress,  laughing  and  taking  her  seat,  "  but  I  know  that  the 
^0Q(3  God  has  sent  this  air  from  heaven  for  man's  enjoyment,  and  when 


KING  OF  ROME.  .  205 

I  feel  its  cool  kiss  upon  my  cheek,  I  think  that  Gud  is  nigh.  I  have  al- 
\vays  loved  to  feel  the  breath  of  my  Creator,  and  therefore  it  is  that  I 
have  always  been  strong  and  healthy.  See  !  See  !  how  it  blows  away^ 
my  mantle!  You  are  right,  sweet  summer  wind.  I  will  ihrow  the  bur-' 
then  away."  ♦ 

She  let  fall  her  mantle,  and  gave  her  bare  shpulders  to  the  wind,  en- 
joying the  breeze,  and  frightening  her  maids  of  honor  out  of  their  pro- 
priety. 

"  Now  let  mo  have  some  refreshment,"  cried  she.  Away  sped  two 
or  three  of  the  ladies,  each  one  anxious  to  escape  from  the  gust  that  was 
driving  every  thing  before  it  in  the  Empress's  rooms. 

A  page  brought  in  a  tray,  and  there,  in  the  centre  of  the  room,  the 
Empress,  although  yet  overheated,  ate  a  plate  of  strawberries  and  drank 
a  glass  of  lemonade  cooled  in  ice.* 

She  was  interrupted  in  themiidst  of  all  this  comfort  by  another  page, 
who  announced  Pnnce  Kaunitz.  Maria  Theresa  rose  hastily  from  her 
sedt,  "Shut  all  the  doors  and  windows,"  exclaimed  she,  "do  not  let 
him  scent  the  draught."f 

While  her  orders  were  being  obeyed,  she  looked  around  to  convince 
herself  that  everj'^  avenue  was  closed  through  which  the  wind  might  pe- 
netrate, and  that  done,  she  ordered  the  door  to  be  thrown  open,  and  the 
Prince  admitted. 

Prince  Kaunitz  approached  with  his  usual,  serious  and  tranquil  demea- 
nor. He  bowed  low  and  said,  "  I  congratulate  your  Majesty  and  the 
Austrian  empire  upon  your  happy  recovery.  I,  who  have  no  fear  of  any 
other  enemy,  have  trembled  before  this  deadly  foe  of  your  imperial 
house.  For  all  other  dangers,  we  have  craft  and  valor,  but  against  this 
one,  no  bravery  or  statesmanship  can  avail." 

"  But  skill  has  availed  ;  and  to  Van  Swieten,  under  Providence,  I  am 
indebted  for  my  life,"  cried  the  Enipress,  warmly.  "  I  know  Kaunitz 
that  you  have  but  little  faith  in  heavenly  or  earthly  physicians;  and  I 
pray  God  that  you  may  never  acquire  it  through  the  bitter  experience 
of  such  suffering  as  I  have  but  lately  endured.  Often  during  my  sFeep- 
less  nights  I  have  longed  for  a  sight  of  your  grave  face,  and  it  grieved 
me  to  think  that  perchanc^we  might  never  meet  again  to  talk  of  Aus- 
tria, and  plan  for  Austria's  welfare." 

"But  I  knew  that  your  Majesty  would  recover,"  said  Kaunitz,  with 
unusual  warmth,  "I  knew  it,  for  Austria  cannot  spare  you,  and  s'o  long 
as  there  is  work  for  you  here  below,  your  strong  mind  will  bid  defiance 
to  death." 

Maria  Theresa  colored  with  pleasure.  It  was  so  seldom  that  Kaunitz 
gave  utterance  to  such  sentiments,  that  his  praise  was  really  worth  having. 

"You  think  then  that  Austria  needs  me,"  said  she. 

.   *  Caroline  Pichler:  Memoirs,  vol.  1, 'page  18, 19.    MariaTbereeasupported  witliout  pain  exfrem© 
degrees  of  heat  and  cold.    Summer  and -wintdr  her  windows  stood  open,,and  often  the  snow-flakes 
have  been  seen  lo  fall  upon  her  eacriiiHr  while  she  wrote.    The  Emperor  Joseph,  to  winter,  always 
camo  into  his  mother's  rooms  wrapped  up  in  furs, 
t  Wraxall,  vol.  'J.  page  860, 


'206  JOSEPH  lafi  5Eco:<D. 

— "I  do  indeed,  your  Majesty." 

— "  But  if  God  had  called  me  to  himself,  -what  would  yo\i  have  done?" 
— "I  would  still  have  labored  as  in  duty  bound  to  my  country,  but 
I  would  have  owed  a  life-long  grudge  to  Providence,  for  its  want  of  wis- 
dom." 

"  You  are  a  scoffer,  Kaunitz,"  said  the  Empress.  "  Your  Creator  is 
very  merciful  to  allow  you  time  to  utter  the  unchristian  sentiments 
which  are  forever  falling  from  your  lips.  But  God  sees  the  heart  of 
man,  and  He  knows  that  yours  is  better  than  your  words.  Since  the 
loving,  all-suffering  Lord  forgives  you,  so  will  I.  But  tell  me,  how  has 
my  empire  fared  during  these  six  long  weeks?" 

"  Well,  your  Majesty.  Throughout  the  day,  I  worked  for  myself, 
throughout  the  night  for  you,  and  nothing  is  behind  hand.  Each  day 
adds  to  our  internal  strength,  that  gives  us  consideration  abroad,  and 
sooti  we  shall  hold  our  own  as  one  of  the  four  great  European  powers, 
mightier  than  in  the  days  when  the  sun  nevet  set  upon  Austrian  realms. 
The  empire  of  Charles  Fifth  was  grand,  but  it  was  not  solid.  It  resem- 
bled a  reversed  pyramid,  in  danger  of  being  crushed -by  its  own  weight. 
The  pyramid  to  day  is  less  in  size,  but  greater  in  base,  and  therefore 
firmer  in  foundation.*  Strength  does  not  depend  so  much  upon  size  as 
upon  proportion;  and  Austria,  although  her  territory  has  been  vaster^ 
has  never  been  so  truly  powerful  as  she  is  in  this,  the  reign  of  your  Ma- 
jesty." 

— "  If  Silesia  were  but  ours  again  !  As  for  Naples  and  Alsatia,  they 
were  never  more  than  disjccla  membra  of  our  empire;  and  they  were  al- 
ways less  profit  than  trouble.  But  Silesia  is  ours— ours  by  a  common 
ancestry,  a  common  language,  and  the  strong  tie  of  affection.  I  shall 
never  recover  from  the  blow  tjiat  I  received  when  I  lost  Silesia  " 

"  We  shall  have  restitution  some  of  these  days,  your  Majesty,"  said 
Kaunitz. 

'*  1)0  you  mean  to  say  that  I  shall  ever  recpver  Silesia?"  asked. the 
Empress,  eagerly. 

— "From  the  King  of  Prussia?  No— never.  He  holds  fast  to  his 
possessions,  and  his  sharp  sword  would  be  unsheathed  to-morrow,  were 
we  to  lay  the  weight  of  a  finger  upon  his  right  to  Silesia.  But  we  shall 
be  otherwise  revenged,  in  the  day  when  we  shall  feel  that  we  haVe  at- 
tained the  noon-tide  of  our  power  and  strength." 

"You  do  not  intend  to  propose  to  me  a  war  of  aggression!"  said  the 
Empress,  shocked. 

"  No,  your  Majesty,  but  if  we  should  see  two  eagles  tearing  to  pieces 
a  lamb  which  is  beyond  hope  of  rescue,  our  two-headed  eagle  must 
swoop  down  upon  the  robbers,  and  demand  his  share  of  the  booty.  I 
foresee  evil  doings  among  our  neighbors.  Catharine  of  Russia  is  bold 
and  unscrupulous:  Frederic  of  Prussia  knows  it,  and  he  already  seeks 
the  friendship  of  Russia,  that  he  may  gain  an  accomplice  as  well  as  an 

ally-" ^ 

*  Letters  of  a  French  Traveller.    Vol.  1,  p.  421. 


ElUG  OF  ROME.  207 

"  God  forbid  that  I  should  follaw  ip  the  wake  of  the  King  of  Prussia !" 
crfed  Maria  Theresa,  "  Never  wili  I  accept,  miicli  less  seek  to  knou- 
this  ci-uel  woman,  whose  throne  is  blood-stained,  and  whose  heart  i-s  dead 
to  every  sentiment  of  womanly  virtue  and  honor  !" 

"Your  Majesty  need  have  no  intercourse  with  the  woman,  you  have 
only  to  confer  with  the  sovereign  of  a  powerful  ncighborinjr  ewipire." 

"  Russia  is  not  a  neighbouring  empire,"  exclaimt.-d  the  Empress.  "I 
ivrote  on  one  occasion  to  the  Empress  Elizabe-th,  '  1  will  always  be  your 
friend,  but.  with  my  consent  you  shall  never  be  my  neighbor.'*  Poland 
lies  between  Russia  and  Austria." 

"Yes,"  said  Kaunitz,  with  one  of  his  meaning  smiles,  •'  but  how  long 
will  Poland  divide  us  from  Russia?" 

"  Man  !"  exclaimed  Maria  Theresa  with  horror,  "  you  do  not  surely 
insinuate  that  we  would  dare  to  lay  a  hand  upon  Poland  !" 

— "Not  we,  but  the  Empress  of  Russia  will " 

— "■  Impossible  !  impossible  !  She  dare  not  do  it- 


Kaunitz  shrugged  his  shoulders.  '•'•Dare,  your  Majesty  ?  Some  things. 
we  dare  not  attempt  because  they  are  difficult;  others  arc  diflicult  be- 
cause we  dare  not  attempt  them.f  The  Empress  of  Russia  dares  do 
anything  ;  for  she  knows  how  to  take  matters  easily,  and  believes  in  her 
own  foresight.  Despots  are  grasping,  and  Catharine  is  a  great  despot. 
We  must  make  haste  to  secure  her  good-will,  that  when  the  time  comes 
we  may  all  understand  one  another." 

"I!"  exclaimed  the  Empress,  "I  should  stoop  so  low  as  to  seek  th# 
good-will  of  this  wicked   Empress,  who  mounted  her  throne  upon  the 
dead  body  of  her  husband,  while  her  lovers  stood  by,  their  hands  reek- 
ing with  the  blood  of  the  murdered   Emperor!     Oh,  Kaunitz!     You 
would  never  ask  of  me  to  do  this  thing  !" 

— "Your  Majesty  is  great  enough  to  sacrifice  your  personal  antipa- 
thies to  the  good  of  your  country.  Your  Majesty  once  condescended 
to  write  to  Farinelli,  and  tlm  act  won  us  the  friendship  of  the  King  of 
Spain  and  of  his  sons;  this  letter  will  be  the  means  of  placing  an  Arch- 
duchess of  Austria  on  the  throne  of  Naples." 

*'  Would  have  been,"  said  Maria  Theresa,  heaving  a  sigh.  "  The 
bride  of  the  King  of  N;iples  is  no  more  !  My  poor  Joanna!  My  beau- 
tiful child  !", 

— "  But  the  Archduchess  Josepha  lives,  and  I  had  intended  to  propose 
to  your  Majesty  to.  accept  the  hand  of  the  King  of  Naples  for  her  High- 
ness." 

— "Is  the  House  of  Naples  then  so  desirous  of  our  alliance  that  it 
has  already  offered  its  heir  to  another  one  of  my  daughters  %  I  am  sor- 
ry that  we  should  be  obliged  to  accept,  for  I  have  heard  of  late  that  the 
King  is  an  illiterate  and  trifling  fellow,  scarcely  better  than  the  Lazza- 
roni  who  are  his  chosen  associates.  Josepha  will  not  be  haj'py  with 
such  a  man." 

— "  Your  Majesty,  her  TTiirhnrss  does  not  marry  the  young  ignoramus 
*  Hi»loric»l.  t  KRunitz'i  own  wordi.    Uormayr  Plutarcb;  vo\.  12,  pago2Tl. 


208  JOSEPH  TRE  SECOND. 

•who  to  be  sure  knows  neither  how  to  read  nor  write  ;  she  marries  the 
'King  of  Naples,  and  surely  if  anything  can  gracefully  conceal  a  man's 
faults,  it  is  the  purple  mantle  of  royalty." 

"I  will  give  my  child  to  this  representative  of  royalty,"  said  Maria 
Theresa  sadly,  "  but  I  look  upon  her  as  a  victim  of  expediency.  If  she 
is  true  to  her  God  and  to  her  spouse,  I  must  be  content,  even  though, 
as  a  woman,  Josepha's  life  will  be  a  blank." 

"And  this  alliance,"  said  Kaunitz,  still  pursuing  the  object  for  which 
he  was  contending,  "  this  marriage  is  the  result  of  one  letter  to  Farinelli. 
Your  Majesty  once  condescended  to  write  to  La  Pompadour.  That 
letter  won  the  friendship  of  France,  and  its  fruits  will  be  the  marriage 
of  the  Archduchess  Marie  Antoinette,  and  her  elevation  to  the  throne 
of  France.  Your  Majesty  sees  then  what  important  results  have  sprung 
from  two  friendly  letters  which  my  honored  Sovereign  has  not  disdain- 
ed to  write.  Surely  when  wise  statesmanship  prompts '^'our  Majesty  to 
indite  a  third  letter  to  the  Empress  of  Russia,  you  will  not  refuse  its 
counsels  and  suggestions.  The  two  first  letters  were  worth  to  us  two 
thrones;  the  third  may  chance  to  be  worth  a  new  province." 

"  A  new  province  !"  exclaimed  the  Empress,  coming  closer  to  Kau- 
nitz, and  in  her  eagerness  laying  her  hand  upon  his  shoulder.  "Tell 
me — what  wise  and  wicked  stratagem  do  you  hatch  within  your  brain 
today  r 

^"  My  plans,  so  please  your  Majesty,"  said  the  Prince,  raising  his  eyes 
so  as  to  meet  those  of  the  Empress,  "my  plans  are  notofto-dav. 
They " 

But  suddenly  he  grew  dumb,  and  gazed  horror-stricken  at  the  face  of 
Maria  Theresa.  Kaunitz  was  shortsighted,  and  up  to  this  moment  he 
had  remained  in  ignorance  of  the  fearful  change  that  had  forever  trans- 
formed the  Empress's  beauty  into  ugliness.  The  discovery  had  left  him 
speechless. 

"  Well  1"  cried  the  Empress,  not  suspecting  the  cause  of  his  sudden 
silence.  "  You  have  «ot  the  courage  to  confide  your  plans  to  me  !  They 
must  be  dishonorable.     If  not,  in  the  name  of  heaven,  speak." 

The  Prince  answered  not  a  word.  The  shock  had  been  too  great ;  and 
as  he  gazed  upon  that  scarred  and  blotched  face,  once  so  smooth,  fair 
and  beautiful,  his  presence  of  mind  forsook  him,  and  his  diplomacy  came 
to  naught. 

"  Forgive  me,  your  Majesty,"  said  he,  as  pale  and  staggering  he  re- 
treated towards  the  door.  "  A  sudden  faintness  has  come  over  me,  and 
every  thing  swims  before  my  vision.  Let  me  entreat  your  permission 
to  retire." 

Without  awaiting  the  Empress's  reply,  he  made  a  hasty  bow,  and 
fled  from  the  room. 

The  Empress  looked  after  him  in  utter  astonishment.  "  What  has 
come  over  the  man  V  said  she  to  herself.  "  He  looks  as  if  he  had  seen 
a  ghost !     Well — I  suppose  it  is  nothing  more  than  a  fit  of  eccentricity." 

And  she  flung  back  her  head  with  a  half  disdainful  smile.     But  as  she 


KING  OF  KUiili.  209 

did  so,  hor  eyes  lit  accidentallj  upon  llie  mirror,  and  she.  saw  lier  own 
image  reflected  in  its  bright  depths. 

She  started  ;  for  she  had  already  r^rgotlc!)  the  "  ugly  old  woman  " 
whom  she  had  apdstrpphised  ou  the  day  previous.  Suddenly  she  burst 
into  a  peal  oflaughter,  and  cried  out,  "  No  wonder  poor  Kaunitz  looked 
as  if  he  had  seen  something  horrible!  He  saw  uk — anJ  I  am  the  Me- 
dusa that  turned  him  into  stone.  Poor,  short-siglited  man  !  lie  had  beqn 
in  blissful  ignorance  of  my  altered  looks  until  I  laid  my  hand  upon  his  shoul- 
der. I  must  do  something  to  heal  the  wound  1  have  inflicted,  I  owe  hiui 
more  than  I  can  well  repay.  I  will  give  him  a  brilliant  decoration,  and 
that  will  be  a  cure-all ;  for  Kaunitz  is  very  vain  and  very  fond  of  show." 

While  the  Empress  was  writing  the  note  which  was  to  accompany  her 
gift,  Kaunitz,  with  his  handkerchief  over  his  mouth,  was  dashinij  through 
the  palace  corridors  to  his  carriage.  With  an  impatient  gesture  he  nio- 
tioned  to  his  coachman  to  drive  home  with  all  speed. 

Not  with  his  usual  stateliness,  but  panting,  almost  running,  did, Kau- 
nitz traverse  the  gilded  halls  of  his  own.  palace,  which  were  open  to-dav 
in  honor  of  the  Empress's  recovery,  and  were  already  festive  with  the 
sound  of  the  guests  assembling  to  a  magnificent  dinner  which  was  to  ce- 
lebrate the  event.  Without  a  word  to  the  Countess  Clary, -who  came 
forward  elegantly  attired  for  the  occasion,  Kaunitz  flew  into  his  study  ' 
and  sinking  into  an  arm  chair,  he  covered  his  flice  with  his  hands.  He 
felt  as  if  he  had  been  face  to  face  with  death !  That  was  not  his  beauti- 
ful, majestic,  awperb  Maria  Theresa;  it  was  a  frightful  vision,  a  messen- 
ger from  the  grave,  that  forced  upon  his  unwilling'  mind  the  dreadful 
futurity  that  awaits  all  Avho  are  born  of  woman  ! 

"Could  it  be  !  Was  this  indeed  the  Empress,  whose  beauty  had  in- 
toxicated her  subjects,  as  drawing  from  its  sheath  the  sword  of  St.  Ste- 
phen, she  held  it  flashing  in  the  sun,  and  called  upon  them  to  defend  her 
rights !  Oh,  could  it  be  that  this  woman,  once  -beautiful  as  Olympian 
Juno,  had  been  transformed  into  such  a  caricature!" 

A  thrill  of  pain  darted  through  the  whole  frame  of  the  Prince,  and  he 
did  what,  since  his  mother's  de.flh,  he  had  never  done — he  wept. 

But  gradually  he  overcame  lus  grief,  the  scanty  fountain  of  his  tears 
dried  up,  and  he  resumed  his  cold  and  habitual  denieanor.  For  a  long 
time  he  sat  motionless  in  his  chair,  staring  at  the  wall  that  was  opposite. 
Finally  he  moved  towards  his  escritoire  and  took  up  a  pen. 

He  began  to  write  instructions  fdr  the  use  of  his  secretaries.  They 
were  never  to  pronounce  in  his  presence  the  two  words,  Death  and 
Small  Pox.  If  those  words  ever  occurred  in  any  correspondence  or 
oflicial  paper  that  was  to  come  before  his  notice,  they  were  to  be  erased. 
Those  who  presented  themselves  before  the  Prince  were  to  be  warned 
that  these  fearful  words  must  never  pass  their  lips  in  his  presence.  A 
secretary  was  to  go  at  once  to  the  Countess  Clary,  that  she  might  pre- 
pare Ihc  guests  of  the  Prince,  and  caution  tliem  against  the  use  of  the 
oflensivo  words.* 

*U<Jrm8yr.    Auatiiau  I'lutarcli.    Vol,  12,  p.  2T4. 
11 


210  iOStPa  THE  SECOND. 

When  Kaunitz  had  completed. these  singular  instructions,  lie  rang,  and 
gave  the  paper  to  a  page.  As  lie  did  so,  a  servant  entered  with  a  let- 
ter and  a  package  from  her  Majesty,  the  Empress. 

The  package  contained  tlic  Grand  Cross  of  the  or'der  of  St.  Stephen, 
hut  instead  of  the  usual  syrabol,  the  cross  was  composed  of  costly  bril- 
liants. The  letter  was  in  the  Empress's  own  hand — a  worthy  answer 
to  the  "Instructions"  which  Kauntlz  was  in  the  act  of  sending  to  his 
secretaries. 

The  Empress  wrote  as  follows:  "1  send  you  the  Grand, Cross  of  St. 
Stephen  ;  but  as  a  mark  of  distinction  you  must  wear  it  in  brilliants. 
You  have  done  so  much  to  dignify  it,  that  I  seize  with  eagerness  the  op- 
portunity which  presents  itself  to  offer  you  a  tribute  of  that  gratitude 
which  I  feel  for  yoiir  services,  and  shall  continue  to  feel  until,  the  day  of 
my  death.*  Maria  Theresa." 


CHAPTER  XLIY. 

THE  AKCHDUCHESS  JOSEPIIA.  * 

The  plans  of  the  Empress  and  her  Prime  Minister  approached  their 
fulfillment ;  Austria  was  about  to  contract  ties  of  kindred  with  her  pow- 
erful neighbors. 

MariaTheresa  had  again  consented  to  receive  the  King  of  Naples  as 
her  son-in-law,  and  he  was  the  affianced  husband  of  the  Archduchess  Jo- 
sepha.  The  palace  of  Lichtenstein,  the  residence  of  the  Neapolitan  Am- 
bassador was,  in  consequence  of  the  betrothal,  the  scene  of  splendid  fes- 
tivities, and  in  the  imperial  pSfece  preparations  were  making  for  the  ap- 
proaching nuptials.  They  were  to  be  solemnised  on  the  fifteenth  of  Oc- 
tober, and  immediately  after  the  ceremony  the  young  bride  was  to  leave 
\  ienna  for  Naples. 

Everything  vv-as  gayety  and  bustle ;  all  were  deep  in  consultation 
over  dress  and  jewels  ;  and  the  great  topic  of  court  conversation  was  the 
paHre  of  brilliants  sent  by  the  King  of  Spain,  whose  surpassing  magni- 
ficence had  called  forth  an  expression  of  astonishment  from  the  lips  of 
the  Empress  herself 

The  trousseau  of  the  Archduchess  was  exposed  in  the  apartments  which 
had  once  been  occupied  by  the  Empress  and  her  husband  ;  and  now  Maria 
Theresa,  followed  by  a  bevy  of  wonderingyoung  Archduchesses,  was  exam- 
ining her  daughter's  princely  wardrobe,  that  with  her  own  eyes  she  might 
be  sure  that  nothing  was  wanting  to  render  it  worthy  of  a  Queen-elect. 

♦Wmxa!!  II;  4T?. 


KimO  OF  KUMK  '^  [  I 

The  young  giris  burst  into  exclamations  of  rapture  A\hen  they  approach- 
ed the  table  where,  in  its  snowy  parity,  lay  the  bridal  dress  of  white 
velvet,  embroidered  with  pearls  and  diamonds. 

«  "Oh!"  cried  little  Marie  Antoinette,  while  she- stroked  it  with  hor 
pretty,  rosy  hand,  "Oh,  my  beautiful  Josepha,  you  will  look  lilic  an  an- 
gel, when  you  wear  this  lovely  wbiie  dress."' 

"Say  rather,  lii%e  a  queen,"  returned  Josepha,  smiling.  "When  a 
\vonian  is  a  queen,  she  is  sure  to  look  like  an  angel  in  the  cvosVof  the 
world." 

"It  does  not  follow,  however,  that  because  she  is  a  queen,  .she  shall 
be  as  happy  as  an  angel,"  remarked  the  Archduchess  Maria  Amelia,  who 
was  betrothed  to  the  Duke  of  Parma. 

"Nevertheless,  I  would  rather  be  the  unhappy  queen  of  an  important 
kingdom  than  the  happy  wife  of  a  poor  little  prince,"  replied  Josepha, 
hastily,  as  raising  her  superb  diadem  of  brilliants,  she  advanced  to  a  mir- 
ror and  placed  it  upon  her  brow.  "Do  you  think,"  asked  she  proudly, 
"that  I  can  be  very  miserable  while  I  wear  these  starry  gems  upon  my 
forehead?  Oh  no!  If  it  were  set  with  thorns  that  drew  ray  blood,  I 
would  rather  wear  this  royal  diadem  than  the  light  coronet  of  an  insi'f^- 
nificant  duchess."  v  ^ 

"And  I,"  exclaimed  Amelia,  indignantly,  "would  rather  wear  the  ring 
of  a  beggar  than  be  the  wife  of  a  king  who  neither  reads  nor  writes  and 
throughout  all  Europe  is  known  by  the  name  of  a  Lazzarone." 

"  Before  whom  millions  of  subjects  must,  nevertheless,  bend  the  knee, 
and  who,  despite  of  all,  is  a  powerful  and  wealthy  monarch,"  returnee! 
Josepha,  angrily. 

"That  is,  if  his  master,  the  Marquis  Tannucci  allows  it,"  cried  the 
Archduchess  Caroline,  laug-hing.  "  For  you  know  very  well,  Jose^iha 
that  Tannucci  is  the  king  of  your  Lazzaroni-king,  and  when  he  behaves 
amiss,  puts  him  on  his  knees  for  punishment.  Now  when  you  are  his 
wife,  you  can  go  and  comfort  him  in  his  disgrace,  and  kneel  down  in  the 
corner  by  his  side.     How  interesting  it  will  be!" 

Upon  this  the  Archduchess  Amelia  began  to  laugh,  while  her  sisters 
joined  in — all  except  Marie  Antoinette,  who  with  an  expression  of  sym- 
pathy, turned  to  Josepha.  ' 
-'  "bo  not  mind  them,  my  Josepha,"  said  she,  "if  your  kinf»  cannot 
read,  you  will  teach  him,  and  he  will  love  you  all  the  better  and  in 
spite  of  everything,  you  mmII  be  a  happy  Queen  in  the  end." 

"I  do  not  mind  them,  Antoinette,"  returned  Josepha,  her  eyes  flash- 
ing with  anger,  "  for  1  well  know  that  they  are  envious  of  my  prosperity 
and  would  willingly  supplant  me.     But  my  day  of  retaliation  will  come! 
It  will  be  that  on  which  my  sisters  shall  be  forced  to  acknowledge  thu 
rank  of  the  Queen  of  Naples,  and  to  yield  her  precedence  !" 

A  burst  of  indicnation  would  have  been  the  reply  to  these  haughty 
words,  had  the  Archduchess  Caroline  not  felt  a  hand  upon  her  shoufder 
and  heard  a  voice  which  commanded  silence. 

The  Empress,  who  at  the  beginning  of  this  spicy  dialogue,  had  been 


■J  1:2  JOSEl'H  THi":  aiXOND 

absent  on  her  survey  in  a  neighboring  apartment,  had  returned,  and  had 
heard  Josepha's  last  words.  Shocked  and  grieved,  she  came  forward, 
and  stood  in  the  midst  of  her  daughters. 

"  Peace !"  exclaimed  the  imperial  mother.  "  I  have  heard  such  worcks 
of  arrogance  fall  from  your  lips  as  must  be  expiated  by  humble  petition 
to  your  Creator.  Sinful  creatures  are  we  all,  whether  we  be  princesses 
or  peasants;  and  if  we  dare  to  lift  our  poor  heads  in  pride  of  birth  or 
station,  God  will  surely  punish  us.  Willi  a  breath  He  overturns  the 
sceptres  of  kings — with  a  breath  JIc  hurls  our  crowns  to  earth,  until 
cowering  at  His  feet,  we  acknowledge  our  unworthiness.  It  becomes  a 
queen  to  remember  that  she  is  a  mortal,  powerless  without  the  grace 
of  God  to  do  one  good  action,  and  wearing  under  the  purple  of  royalty 
the  tattered  raiment  of  humanity.  But  it  is  these  absurd  vanities  that 
have  starred  up  the  demon  of  pride  in  your  hearts,"  continued  the  Em- 
press, giving  a  disdainful  toss  to  the  velvet  wedding-dress;  "let  us 
leave  these  wretched  gewgaws  and  betake  ourselves  to  the  purer  air  of 
our  own  rooms." 

She  waved  her  hand,  and  motioning  to  her  daughters,  they  followed 
her,  silent  and  ashamed.  All  had  their  eyes  cast  down,  and  none  saw 
the  tears  that  now  fell  like  rain  from  Josepha's  eyes.  She  was  thor- 
oughly mortified  and  longed  to  escape  to  her  room ;  but  as  she  bent  her 
head  to  take  leave  of  the  Empress,  the  latter  motioned  her  to  remain. 

"  I  have  as  yet  a  few  words  to  speak  with  you,  my  daughter,"  said 
Maria  Theresa,  as  she  closed  the  door  of  her  dressing-room.  "  Your 
haughty  conduct  of  this  day  has  reminded  me  that  you  have  a  sacred 
duty  to  perform.  The  vanities  of  the  world  will  have  less  weight  with 
you  when  you  return  from  the  graves  of  your  ancestors.  Go  to  the  im- 
perial vault,  and.  learn  from  the  ashes  of  the  Emperors  and  Empresses 
who  sleep  there,  the  nothingness  of  all  worldly  splendor.  Kneel  down 
beside  your  dear  father's  tomb,  and  pray  for  humility.  Tell  him  to 
pray  for  me,  Josepha,  for  my  crown  weighs  heavily  upon  my  brow,  and 
I  fiiin  would  be  at  rest." 

Josepha  made  no  answer.  She  stared  at  her  mother  with  an  expres- 
sion of  horror  and  incredulity,  as  though  she  meant  to  ask  if  she  had 
heard  her  words  aright. 

"Well  my  daughter!"  cried  Maria  Theresa,  surprised  at  Josepha's 
silence.  "Why  do  you  linger?  Go — go  child,  and  recalling  the  sins 
of  your  life,  beg  pardon  of  God,  and  the  blessing  of  your  deceased  fa- 
ther." 

"  Give  me  that  blessing  yourself,  dear  mother,"  faltered  the  Princes,^, 
<;lasping  her  hands,  and  looking  imploringly  at  the  Empress.  My  fatl^er's 
spirit  is  here,  it  is  not  in  that  fearful  vault." 

The  Empress  started.  "I  cannot  believe,"  said  she,  with  severity, 
"  that  my  daughter  has  cause  to  tremble  before  the  ashes  of  her  father. 
The  guilty  alone  fear  death  ;  innocence  is  never  afraid !" 

"  Oh  mother !  mother,  I  have  no  sin  upon  my  soul  and  yet  I 

"  And  yet."  echoed  the  Empress  as  Josepha  paused. 


KliKi  Ob  KUAIK.  'Ji.; 

'^  And  yd  1  shlvi>r  at  the  vory  thon^iht  of  going  thither,"  pr.iJ  the 
Archduchess.  "Yes,  your  Majesty,  I  shiver  at  tlie  thought  of  encoun- 
tering the  black  coffins  and  mouldering  skeletons  of  my  forefdtherr..  Oh, 
mother,  have  pity  on  my  youth  and  cowardice  !  Bo  not  force  me  to 
that  horrid  place !" 

"  I  have  no  right  to  exempt  you  from  the  performance  of  this  sacred 
duty,  Josepha,"  replied  the  Empress  firmly.  "  It  is  a  time-honored  cus- 
tom of  our  fomily,  that  the  Princesses  of  Austria,  who  marry  kings, 
should  take  leave  of  the  graves  of  their  ancestors.  1  cannot  release  the 
Queen  of  Naples  from  her  duty.  She  will  wear  the  crown,  she  must 
bear  the  cross." 

"  But  I  dread  it !  I  dread  it  so  !"  murmured  J-osepha.  •'  I  shudder  .at 
the  thought  of  Joscpha's  corpse.  I  never  loved  her,  and  she  died  with- 
out forgiving  me.  Oh,  do  not  force  me  to  go  alone  in  the  presence  of 
the  dead !" 

"I  command  you  to  go  into  the  vault  where  repose  the  holy  ashes  of 
your  fathers,"  repeated  the  Empress  sternly.  "  Bend  your  lofty  head, 
my  daughter,  and  throw  yourself  with  humility  upon  the  graves  of  your 
ancestors,  there  to  learn  the  vanity  of  oil  human  greatness  and  human 
power." 

"  Mercy,  mercy !"  cried  the  terrified  girl.  '•  I  cannot,  I  cannot  obey 
your  dreadful  behest." 

"  AVho  dares  say  '  I  cannot '  when  duty  is  in  question  V  exclaimed  the 
Empress  indignantly.  "  You  are  my  daughter  and  my  subject  still,  and 
I  will  see  whether  you  intend  to  defy  mj'  authority." 

So  saying  the  Empress  rose  and  rang  her  little  golden  bell.  "  The 
carriage  of  the  Archduchess  Josepha,"  said  she  to  the  page  who  answer- ' 
ed  the  summons.  "  Let  a  courier  be  despatched  to  the  Capuchin  fathers 
to  inlorm  them  that  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour  the  Princess  will  visit  th6 
imperial  vault.  Novf  Prhicess,"  continued  the  Em]n-ess  as  the  page  left 
the  room,  "you  will  not  surely  have  the  hardihood  to  say  again  '  1  can- 
not.'" 

" No,"  faltered  Josepha,  "I  will  obey.  But  one  thing  I  must  ask. 
Does  your  Majesty  wish  to  kill  me?"' 

"  What  do  you  mean,  child  ?" 

"I  mean  that  I  will  die,  if  you  force  me  to  this  vault"  replied  Jose- 
pha, pale  as  death.  "  I  feel  it  in  the  icy  chill  that  seizes  my  heart  even 
now.  I  tell  you,  mother,  that  I  will  die,  if  you  send  me  to  the  fearful 
place  where  Josepha's  Corpse  infects  the  air  witli  its  Kleath. mould.  Do 
you  still  desire  that  I  shall  go  ?" 

"  You  need  not  seek  to  frighten  me,  Josepha ;  stratagem  will  avail 
you  nothing,"  replied  the  Empress  coldly.  "It  is  not  given  to  mortals 
to  know  the  hour  of  their  death,  and  1  cailnot  allow  myself  to  be  influ- 
enced by  such  folly.  Go,  my  child,  there  is  nothing  to  fear  ;  the  spirits 
of  your  forefathers  will  shield  you  from  harm,"  added  she  kindly. 

"  I  go,"  replied  Josepha ;  "  but  I  repeat  it.  My  mother  has  sentenced 
me  to  death." 


•J  1 4    .  JOSKFH  THE  dEUOND 

She  bent  her  head  and.lcft  the  room.  The  Empre33  Jooked  after  her 
daughter  as  she  went,  and  a  sudden  pang  shot  through  her  heart.  She 
felt  as  though  she  could  not  let  her  go — she  lelt  as  if  she  must  call  her 
back,  and  pressing  her  to  her  haart,  release  her  from  the  ordeal  which 
tried  her  young  soul  so  fearfililly. 

'  .last  then  the  Princess,  who  had  reached  the  door,  turned  her  largo 
dark  eves  with  another  look  of  entreaty.  This  was  enough  to  restore 
yie  Empress  to  her  self-possession. 

She  would  not  call  her  back.  Stie  saw,  rather  than  heard  the  trem- 
bling lips  that  strove  to  form  a  last  appeal  for  mercy,  and  the  graceful 
iigure  vanished. 

When  she  was  out  of  sight,  all  the  tenderness,  all  the  anxiety  of  the 
Empress  returned.  She  rushed  forwards,  theh  suddenly  stood  still,  and 
.shaking  her  head  she  murmured,  "No!  no!  It  would  be  unpardona* 
ble  weakness.     I  cannot  yield.     She  must  go  to  the  grave  of  her  flithers." 


CHAPTER  XLV. 

THE    DEPARTURE. 

The  messenger  has  returned,  the  carriage  waited,  and  Josepha  had  no 
longer  a  pretext  for  delaying  her  visit  to  the  vault.  She  must  obey  her 
mother's  behest — she  must  perform  the  horrible  pilgrimage  !  Pale  and 
speechless  she  suffered  her  attendants  to  throw  her  mantlearound  her,  and 
then,  as  if  in  obedience  to  some  invisible  phantom  that  beckoned  her  on, 
she  rose  from  her  seat,  and  advanced  rigidly  to  the  door.  Suddenly  she 
paused  and,  turning  to  her  maid  of  honor,  she  said.  "  Be  so  kind  as  to 
call  my  sister  Antoinette,  I  must  bid  her  farewell." 

A  few  moments  elapsed,  when  the  door  opened  and  the  Archduchess 
Maria  Antoinette  flew  into  her  sister's  arms.  Josepha  pressed  her  close- 
ly to  her  heart. 

"  I  could  not  go,  my  darling,"  whispered  she,  "  without  once  moro 
seeing  you.  Let  me  look,  for  the  last  time,  upon  that  sweet  face,  and 
those  bright  eyes  that  are  lit  up  with  the  blue  of  heaven.  Kiss  me, 
dear,  and  promise  not  to  forget  me," 

'•  i  can  never  forgot,  never  cease  to  love  you,  sister,"  replied  the  child, 
returning  Josepha's  caresses,  "But  why. do  you  say  farewell?  Why 
are  you  crying?  Are  you  going  to  leave  us  already  for  that  young 
King  who  is  to  take  you  away  from  us  1  Oh,  Josepha,  how  can  you 
love  a  man  whom  you  have  never  seen  I" 

"I  do  not  love  the  King  of  I^aples,  dear  child,''  said  Josepha  sadly, 
f-  Oh,  Antoinette  !  would  yon  could  uflderstand  my  sorrows!" 


AkN('   I 't-   lUjjit:^  J  I,; 

'•  Spoak,  dear  sister/'  replied  Antoinette  tenderly-.  "  Am  1  not  twelve 
vears  old,  and  does  not  the  Cuunicss  Lerchcnfeld  tell  me,  every  time  I 
do  wronj;,  that  1  am  uo  longer  a  child?  Tell  nic,  then,  vliai,  grieves 
you.     I  will  keep  your  secret,  1  promibc  you." 

'•I  -weep,''  suid  Joscpha,  '•  beoauso  it  is  so  sad  to  die  before  one  has 
known  the  happiness  of  living." 

"  Die  !"  exclaimed  Antoinette,  turning  pale.  "  Why  do  you  speak  of 
dying,  you  who  are  about  to  become  a  queen  ?" 

— "  I  shall  never  live  to  be  a  queen,  my  sister.  The  Empress  has 
commanded  me  to  descend  into  the  imperial  va*ilt.  I  go  thither  to-day 
— in  a  few  days  I  shall  be  carried  thither  never  to  return.*  Farewell, 
Antoinette — I  leave  you  to-day,  but  1  leave  you  for  the  grave." 

"No,  no,  no  !"  screamed  the  child.  "You  shall  not  go.  1  will  throw 
myself  at  the  feet  of  the  Empress,  and  never  rise  until  she  has  released 
you,  dear  sister." 

— "  Have  you  yet  to  learn  that  the  Empress  never  retracts  her  words ! 
If  is  useless.     I  must  go,  and  my  death-warrant  is  signed." 

"  It  shall  not  be  !"  cried  Antoinette,  beside  herself  witnfjrief.  "Wait, 
dear  Josepha,  until  I  return.     I  go  to  obtain  your  release."' 

— "  What  can  you  say  to  the  Empress,  my  poor  little  one?" 

— "  I  will  beg  for  mercy,  and  if  she  wJU  not  listen,  I  shall  rise  and  tell" 
her  fearlessly.  Your  IMajesty,  Josepha  says  that  you  have  sentenced  her 
to  death.  No  mortal  has  power  over  the  life  of  an  imperial  Princess; 
God  alone  has  that  power.  My  sister  must  not  go  into  the  vault,  for  if 
she  does,  she  dies,  and  that  by  your  hand." 

And  p.s  the  child  spoke  these  words,  she  threw  back  her  head,  and  her 
eyes  darted  fire.     She  looked  like  her  mother. 

"I  see,  Antoinette,"  said  Josepha  with  a  smile,  "  that  you  would  not 
submit  tamely  to  death.  You  have  a  brave  soul,  my  little  sister,  and 
will  know  how  to  struggle  against  misfortune.  But  I — I  have  no  spirit, 
I  can  only  sufler  and  obey  ;  and  before  I  die  I  must  open  my  heart  to 
you — you  shall  receive  my  last  thoughts." 

Marie  Antoinette  looked  w'ith  tearful  eyes  at  her  sister,  and  sank, 
white  as  a  lily,  on  h^r  knees. 

"  I  am  ready,"  said  she,  folding  her  hands,  while  Josepha  bent  forward 
and  laid  her  hand  as  wii;h  a  blessing  upon  her  sufc  blond  hair. 

"  When  1  am  dead,"  said  Josepha,  '•  go  to  my  sisters  and  beg  them 
to  forgive  my  unkind  words.  Tell  them  that  I  loved  them  all,  dearly. 
Say  to  Marie  Amelia  that  she  must  pardon  my  unsisterly  conduct.  It 
arose,  not  from  haughtiness,  but  from  despair.  For,  Antoinette,  1  hated 
the  King  of  Naples,  and  well  I  knew  what  a  miserable  fiite  awaited  me 
as  his  Queen.  But'there  was  no  rescue  for  me,  that  I  knew,  so  I  tried 
to  hide  my  grief  under  the  semblance  of  exultation.  Tell  her  to  forgive 
me  for  the  sake  of  the  tears  1  have  shed  in  secret  over  this  hatetl  be- 
trothal.    How  often  liave  I  called  upon  death  to  liberate  me:  and  yet, 

•  The  Princri.s'»  own  vtmAi.    See  Morooircs  sur  la  Tie  privec  do  Maria  Antoinette,  par  Madnqie 
famp:in:  v«).  1,  pn^o  88. 


junv  thnt  the  dark  shadow  of  Azrael's  icy  wing-  is  upon  inc — I  foar  to 
die." 

"  Let  me  die  for  you  sister !"  exclaimed  Antoinette  resolutely.  "  Give 
ine  the  hood  and  mantle.  I  will  cover  my  face,  and' no  one  will  know 
that  it  is  I,  for  1  am  almost  as  tall  as  you.  If  I  uever  re'^urn  from  the 
vault  alive,  the  Empress  will  pardon  you  for  my  sake.  Oh,  I  should 
die  happy,  if  my  death  would  rescue  you,  Josepha." 

A.nd  Antoinette  attempted  to  draw  off  her  sister's  mantle,  and  put  it 
around  her  own  shoulders.     But  Josepha  withheld  her. 

"  Dear  child,"  said  she,  kissing  her,  "  is  it  possible  that  you  are  wil- 
ling to  die  for  Toe,  you  \\  ho  are  so  yoftng  and  happy '?" 

"For  that  very  reason,  Josepha,"  said  Antoinette,  "it  might  be  well 
ta  die.  Who  knows  what  sorrows  the  world  may  have  in  reserve  for 
me  !     Let  mc  die  to-day,  dear  sister,'  let  me " 

At  that  moment  the  door  opened  and  the  maid  of  honor  of  the  Arch- 
duchess Josepha  appeared. 

"Pardon  me,  your  Highness,", said  she  deprecatingly.  "A  page  of 
her  Majesty  is  here  to  know  if  you  have  gone  to  the  imperial  vaults." 

"  Apprize  her  Majesty  that  I  am  about  to  leave,"  replied  Josepha 
with  dignity.  Taking  Antoinette  in  her  arms  she  said  in  a  whisper  : 
"You  see.  it  is  I  who  must  die.  Farewell,  dearest,  may  you  live  and 
be  happy." 

So  saying,  she  tore  herself  away  from  the  weeping  child  and  hastened 
to  her  carriage.  Antoinette  with  a  shriek  rushed  forward  to  follow,  but 
Josepha  had  fastened  the  door.  The  poor  child  sank  on  her  knees  and 
began  to  pray.  But  prayer  brought  no  consolation.  She  thought  of  her 
sister  dying  "from  terror  and  she  wrung  her  hands  while  she  cried  aloud. 

Suddenly  she  ceased,  started  to  her  feet,  and  the  blood  mounted  to 
her  pale  face. 

"  The  secret  door  !"  exclaimed  she.  "  I  had  forgotten  it."  She  cross- 
ed the  room  tov/ards  a  picture  that  hung  on  the  wall  opposite,  and  touch- 
ing a  spring  in  its  frame,  it  flew  back  and  revealed  a  communication 
with  one  of  the  state-apartments.  She  sprang  through  the  opening,  her 
golden  hair  flying  out  in  showers  behind  her,  her  cheeks  glowing,  her 
ej^es  flashing  and  her  heart  beating  wildly  as  she  sped  through  the  pal- 
ace to  the  Empress's  apartments.  The  sentry  would  have  stopped  her, 
but  throwing  him  off"v/ith  an  imperious  gesture,  she  darted  through  the 
door,  and  all  ceremony  forgetting,  flew  to  the  sitting-room  of  the  Em- 
press, and  threw  herself  at  her  mother's  feet. 


KING   OK  ICOME.  '^IT 


CHAPTER  XLVI. 

INSrOCULATION. 

Maria  Tueresa  was  standini;  in  the  embrasure  of  a  window,  and  she- 
scarcely  turned  her  head  as  she  heard  the  rustling  behind  her.  She  took 
no  notice  of  the  breach  of  etiquette  of  which  Antoinette  was  guilty,  in 
rushing  unannounced  upon  her  solitude.  Her  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the 
Chapel  of  the  Capuchins  in  whose  vaults  lay  so  many  whom  she  had 
loved.  Her  heart  and  thoughts  were  within  those  gray  walls,  now  with 
her  husband  and  her  dead  children,  now  with  Josepha,  for  whom  she  felt 
pang  after  pang  of  anxiety.     In  an  absent  tone  she  turned  and  said : 

"  What  brings  you  hither,  little  Antoinette  ?" 

"  Josepha,  dear  mother !     Have  pity  on  Josepha !" 

The  Empress,  with  a  thrill  of  joy  at  her  heart,  replied,  "  she  did  not 
go  then !" 

"  Yes,  yes,  she  went  because  you  forced  her  to  go,  but  she  went  with 
a  broken  heart.  Oh  mama  !  Josepha  says  that  the  dead  are  waiting 
to  take  her  with  them.  May  I  not  order  my  carriage  and  fly  to  bring 
her  back  1" 

Maria  Theresa  said  nothing.  Her  eyes  turned  first  upon  the  beauti- 
ful little  suppliant  at  her  feet,  then  they  wandered  out  through,  the  eve- 
ning haze,  and  rested  on  the  dark  towers  of  the  Capuchin  Chapel. 

"  Oh,  dear  mama,"  continued  Antoinette,  "if  I  may  not  bring  her  back, 
at  least  let  me  share  her  danger.  Be  good  to  your  poor  little  Antoin- 
ette. You  promised  if  I  behaved  well  to  do  something  for  me,  mama, 
and  now  I  deserve  a  reward,  for  Count  Brandcis  says  that  I  have  been 
a  good  girl  of  late.  Do  not  shake  your  head,  it  would  make  me  better 
if  I  went  to  pray  with  Josepha.  You  do  not  know  how  vain  and  world- 
ly I  am.  When  I  saw  Josepha's  beautiful  jewels  I  was  quite  envious  of 
her,  and  indeed,  mama,  no  one  needs  solitude  and  prayer  more  than  I. 
Let  me  go  and  pray  for  grace  by  the  grave  of  my  father," 

The  Empress  laid  her  hand  upon  her  daughter's  head,  and  looked  at 
her  beautiful  coiintenance  with  an  expression  of  deepest  tenderness. 

"You  are  a  noble-hearted  child,  ray  Antoinette,"  said  she.  "With 
such  sensibility  as  yours,  you  are  likely  to  suffer  from  the  faults  and 
misconceptions  of  the  world;  for  magnanimity  is  so  rare  that  it  is  often 
misunderstood.  You  would  share  your  sister's  danger,  while  believing 
in  its  reality  !  No,  no,  darling,  I  cannot  accept  your  generous  sacrifice  : 
It  would  be  useless,  for  Josepha's  terror  will  shorten  her  prayers.  Be- . 
fore  you  could  reach"  the  Chapel,  she  will  have  left  it " 

]\Iaria  Tlieresa  paused  and  again  looked  out  from  the  window.     Thf^ 

• 


•JiJ<  JOSEi'H   iEE  SECOiv'J>, 

roiling  of  carriage  wheels  ^vas  distinctly  heard  comiugtowards  the  pal- 
ace.    Now  it  ceased,  and  the  sentry's  voice  was  heard  at  the  gates. 

''Ah!"  cried  the  Empress,  joyfully,  "I  was  right.  It  is  Josepha. 
Her  devotions  have  not  been  long  ;  but — 1  will  confess  to  you,  Antoin- 
ette, that — a  weight  is  lifted  from  my  heart.  1  have  not  breathed  free- 
ly since  she  left  my  presence.  Oh  I  I  will  forgive  her  for  her  short 
prayers,  for  they  have  shortened  my  miserable  suspense  !"  , 

"  Let  me  go  and  bring  her  to  you,  mama,"  cried  Antoinette,  clapping, 
her  hands, , and  darting  towards  the  door.  But  the  Empress  held  her 
back. 

— "  No,  dear,  remain  with  ine.  Josepha's  heart  will  reveal  to  ber 
that  her  mother  longs  to  welcome  her  back." 

At  that  moment  a  page  announced  the  Countess  Lerchenfeld. 

"  It  is  not  my  child,"  cried  the  Empress,  turning  pale. 

The  Countess,  too,.was  very  pale,  and  she  trembled  as  she  approached 
the  imperial  mother, 

"She  is  dead  I"  murmured  Marie  Antoinette,  sinking  almost  fainting 
to  the  floor. 

But  the  Empress  called  out,  "  Where  is  my  child  ?  In  mercy  tell  me 
why  you  are  here  without  her?" 

"  Please  your  Majesty,"  replied  the  Countess,  "  I  come  to  beg  that 
you  will  excuse  her  Highness.  She  has  been  suddenly  taken  sick.  She 
was  lifted  insensible  to  the  carriage,  and  has  not  yet  recovered  her  con- 
sciousness." 

Maria  Theresa  reeled,  and  a  deathly  paleness  overspread  her  counte- 
nance. "Sick!"  murmured  she,  with  quivering  lip.  "What — what 
happened  1" 

"  I  do  not  know,  your  Majesty.  According  to  your  imperial  com- 
mand I  accompanied  her  Highness  to  the  Chapel.  I  went  as  hr  as  the 
stairway  that  leads  to  the  crypts.  Her  Highness  was  strangely  agita- 
ted. 1  tried  to  soothe  her,  but  as  she  looked  below,  and  saw  the  open 
door,  she  shuddered,  and  clinging  to  me,  whispered  :  '  Countess — I  scent 
the  loathsome  corpse  that  even  now  stirs  in  its  coffin  at  my  approach.' 
Again  I  strove  to  comfort  her,  but  all  in  vain.  Scarcely  able  to  support 
herself,  she  bade  me  farewell,  and  commended  herself  to  your  Majesty. 
Then,  clinging  to  the  damp  walls,  she  tottered  beloW,  and  disappeared." 

"And  you  did  not  hold  her  back  !"  cried  Marie  Antoinette.  "You  had 
the  cruelty  to  leave  her " 

"  Still,  Antoinette,"  said  the  Empress,  raising  her  hand  imploringly. 
"  What  else?"  asked  she  hoarsely. 

"  I  stood  at  the  head  of  the  stairway,  your  Majesty,  awaiting  her  High- 
nees's  return.  Eor  a  while  all  was  silent ;  then  I  heard  a  piercing  shriek 
;and  I  hastened  to  the  vault " 

"  Was  it  my  child  ?"  asked  the  Empress,  now  as  rigid  as  a  marble 
statue. 

— "  Yes,  your  Majesty.  I  found  her  Highness  kneeling  with  her  head 
i-esting  upon  the  tomb  of  the  Emperor." 


KING  Ui*   HOMU;.  'J  19 

— "  Insensible  V 

■ — "  No,  your  Llajesty.  I  ripproacjhed  and  found  her  icy  cold,  her  eyes 
dilated,  and  her  Aice  covered  with  drops  of  cold  sweat.  She  was  scarce- 
ly able  to  speak,  but  in  broken  accents  she  related  to  me  that  as  die 
was  making  her  way  tov/ards  the  altar  at  the  head  of  the  Emperor's 
Tomb,  she. suddenly  became  sensible  that  somethincr  was  holding  her 
back.  Horror-stricken,  she  strove  to  fly,  but  could  not ;  when  as  she 
turned  her  head  she  beheld  the  coffin  of  the  Empress  Josepha,  and  saw 
that  from  thence  came  the  power  that  held  her  back.  With  a  shiiek, 
she  bounded  forward  and  fell  at  the  foot  of  the  Emperur's  tomb.  I  sup- 
ported  her  until  we  reached  the  chapel-door,  when  she  fainted,  and  I  had 
to  call  for  help  to  bear  her  to  her  carriage.'' 

*'  And  now  V  asked  the  Empress,  who  was  weeping  bitterly. 

"  She  is  still  unconscious,  your  Majesty.  Ilerr  Van  Swieten  and  the 
Emperor  are  at  her  bedside." 

•'  And  I,"  cried  the  unhappy  Empress,  "  I,  too,  must  be  with  my 
poor  martyred  child."  Marie  Antoinette  would  have  followed,  but  her 
mother  bade  her  remain,  and  hastening  from  the  room,  Maria  Theresa 
ran  breathless  through  the  corridors  until  she  reached  her  daughter's 
apartments. 

There,  like  a  crushed  lily,  lay  the  fair  bride  of  Naples,  while  near  her 
stood  her  brother  in  speechless  grief.  At  the  foot  of  the  bed,  Van  Swie- 
ten, and  one  of  the  maids  of  honor,  were  rubbing  her  white  feet^ith 
stimulants. 

The  Empress  laid  her  hand  upon  Josepha's  cold  brow,  and  turning  to 
Van  Swieten  as  though  in  his  hands  lay  the  fate  of  her  child,  she  asked, 
"  Will  she  die  ?" 

"  Life  and  death,"  replied  the  physician,  "  are  in  the  hands  of  the 
Lord.     As  long  as  there  is  life,  there  is  hope." 

Maria  Theresa  shook  her  head.  "  I  have  no  hope,"  said  she  with  the 
calmness  ofdespair.  'Tis  the  enemy  of  our  house,  is  it  not,  Van  Swie- 
ten 1     Has  she  not  the  small-pox  V 

— "  I  fear  so,  your  Majesty." 

— "She  must  die,  then,  and  it  is  I  who  have  murdered  her,"  shrieked 
the  Empress  wildly,  and  she  fell  fainting  to  the  floor. 

On  the  fifteenth  of  October,  the  day  on  which  Josepha  was  to  have 
given  her  hand  to  the  King  of  Naples,  the  bells  of  Vienna  tolled  her  fu- 
neral knell.  Not  in  her  gilded  carriage,  rode  the  fair  young  bride,  but 
cold  and  lifeless  she  lay  under  the  black  and  silver  pall,  on  which  were 
placed  a  myrtle  wreath  and  a  royal  crown  of  gold.  Another  spouse  had 
claimed  her  hand,  and  the  marriage-rites  were  solemnised  in  the  still 
vaults  of  the  chapel  of  the  Capuchins. 

The  Empress  had  not  left  her  daughter's  room  since  the  fatal  day  of 
her  return  from  the  chapel.  With  all  the  tenderness  of  her  affectionate 
nature,  she  had  been  the  nurse  of  her  suffering  child.  Not  a  tear  was 
in  her  eye  nor  a  murmur  on  her  lips.     Silent,  vigilant  and  sleepless,  sho 


'J20  joskj'H  ruK  skcuni^ 

had  struggled  with  the  foe  that  was  wresting  yet  another  loved  one  from 
her  house. 

Day  by  day  Josepha  grew  worse,  until  she  lay  dying.  Still  the  Em- 
press shed  no  tear.  Bending  over  lier  daughter's  bed,  she  received  her 
last  sigh,  and  now  she  watched  the  corpse  and  would  not  be  moved, 
though  the  Emperor  and  Van  Swieten  implored  her  to  seek  rest.  When 
the  body  was  removed,  the  poor,  tearless  mourner  followed  it  from  the 
room,  through  the  halls  and  gates  of  the  palace  until  it  was  laid  in  the 
grave. 

Then  she  returned  home,  and  without  a  word  retired  to  herownapartj 
ments.  There  on"  a  table,  lay  heaps  of  papers  and  letters  with  unbroken 
seals,  but  the  Empress  heeded  nothing  of  all  this.  Maternity  reigned 
supreme  in  her  heart,  there  was  room  in  it  for  grief  and  remorse  alone. 
She  strode  to  the  window,  and  there,  as  she  had  done  not  many  days  be 
fore,  she  looked  out  upon  the  gray  towers  of  the  Chapel,  and  thought 
how  she  had  driven  her  own  precious  child  into  the  dismal  depths  of  its 
loathsome  vaults. 

The  door  was  softly  opened  and  the  Emperor  and  Van  Swieten  were 
seen  with  anxious  looks  directed  towards  the  window  where  the  Em- 
press was  standing, 

"  What  is  to  be  done  ?"  said  Joseph.  "  How  is  she  to  be  awakened 
from  that  fearful  torpor  1" 

"  We  must  bring  about  some  crisis,"  replied  Van  Swieten  thought- 
fully. •'  We  must  awake  both  the  Empress  and  the  mother.  The  one 
must  have  work — the  other,  tears.  This  frozen  sea  of  grief  must  thaw 
or  her  Majesty  will  die." 

"  Doctor,"  cried  Joseph,  "  save  her,  I  implore  you.  Do  something  to 
humanise  this  marble  grief." 

— "  I  will  try,  your  Majesty.  With  your  permission,  I  will  assemble 
the  imperial  family  here,  and  we  will  ask  to  be  admitted  to  the  presence 
of  the  Empress.  The  Archduchess  Marie  Antoinette  and  the  Archduke 
Maximilian  I  shall  not  summon." 

Not  long  after,  the  door  was  oncemore  softly  opened  and  the  Empe- , 
ror  Joseph,  followed  by  his  sisters  and  the  doctor,  entered  the  Empress's 
sitting-room. 

Maria  Theresa  was  still  erect  before  the  window,  staring  at  the  dark 
towers  of  the  chapel. 

"Your  Majesty,"  said  Jqaeph  approaching,  "your  children  are  here 
to  mourn  with  you."' 

"  It  is  well,"  replied  Maria  Theresa,  without  stirring  from  her  posi- 
tion. "  I  thank  you  all.  But  leave  me,  my  children.  I  would  mourn 
alone." 

"But  before  we  go,  will  not  your  Majesty  vouchsafe  one  look  of  kind- 
ness ?"  entreated  the  Emperor.  "  May  we  not  kiss  your  hand? — Ob, 
my  beloved  mother,  your  living  children,  too,  have  a  right  to  your  love  ! 
Do  not  turn  away  so  coldly  from  us — let  your  children  comfort  their 
sad  hearts  with  fchesight  of  your  dear  and  honored  countenance!" 


KING  OF  ROME.  22  I 

There  was  so  much  genuine  feeling  in  Joseph's  voice,  as  he  uttered 
these  words  that  his  mother  cuuld  not  resist  him.  She  turned  and  gave 
him  her  hand.  ' 

"  God  bless  you,  my  son,"  said  she,  "  for  your  loving  words.  They 
full  like  balsam  upon  my  sore  and  woClided  heart.  God  bless  you  all, 
my  children,  who  have  come  hither  to  comfort  your  poor,  sorrowing 
mother." 

The  Archduchesses  flocked  weeping  to  her  side,  and  .«!miled  through 
their  tears  as  they  met  her  glance,  of  love.  But  suddenly  she  started, 
and  looked  searchingly  around  the  room. 

"  Where  are  my  little  ones  ?"  said  she  anxiously. 

No  one  spoke,  but  the  group  all  turned  their  eyes  upon  Van  Swieten, 
whose  presence,  until  now,  had  been  unobserved  by  the  Empress.  ..;.   ' 
•    Like  an  angry  lioness,  she  sprang  forward  to   the   tlircshliold  and  laid 
her  hand  upon  Van  Swieten's  shoulder. 

"  What  means  your  presence  here,  Van  Swieten?"  cried  she  loudly. 
"  W^hat  fearful  message  do  you  bear  me  now  ?  My  children  !  my  chil- 
dren !  where  are  they  ?"  » 

"In  their  rooms,  your  Majesty,  replied  Van  Swieten  seriously.  "I 
carao  hither  expressly  to  apologize  for  their  absence.  It  was  1,  who  pre- 
vented them  from  coming." 

"  Why  so  V  exclaimed  the  Empress. 

"  Because,  your  Majesty,  they  have  never  had  the  small-pox;  a;id 
contact  with  you  would  be  dangerous  for  them.  For  some  weeks  they 
must  absent  themselves  from  your  Majesty's  presence." 

"You  are  not  telling  me  the  truth,  Van  Swieten  !"  cried  Maria  The- 
resa hastily.     "  My  children  are  sick,  and  1  must  go  to  them." 

"  Your  Majesty  may  banish  me  forever  from  the  palace,"  said  he, 
"  but  as  long  as  I  remain,  you  cannot  approach  your  children.  It  is  my 
duty  to  shield  them  from  the  infection  which  still  clings  to  your  Majes- 
ty's person.     Would  you  be  the  probable  cause  of  their  death  ?" 

The  earnest  tone  with  which  Van  Swieten  put  this  question,  so  over- 
came  the  Empress,  that  she  raised  both  her  arms  and  cried  out  in  a  voice 
of  piercing  anguish:  "  Ah  !  jt  is  I  who  caused  Josepha's  death  ! — I  wh6 
murdered  my  unhappy  child  !" 

These  words  bnce  uttered,  the  icy  bonds  that  had  frozen  her  heart 
gave  way,  and  Maria  Theresa  w^ept. 

"  She  is  saved  !"  whispered  Van  Swieten  to  the  Emperor.  Will  your 
Majesty  now  request  the  Archduchesses  to  retire?  The  Empress  does 
not  like  to  be  seen  in  tears  ;  ard  this  paroxisDT  once  over,  the  j^reseuce 
of  her  daughters  will  embarrass  her." 

The  Emperor  connnunicated  Van  Swieten's  wish,  au(f  the  Princesses 
silently  and  noiselessly  withdrew. 

The  Empress  wa?  on  her  knees,  while  showers  of  healing  tears  were 
refreshing  her  seethed  heart. 

"  Let  us  try  to  induce  her  to  rise,"  whispered  Van  Swieten.  "This 
hour,  if  it  please  God,  may  prove  a  signal  blessing  to  all  Austria." 


222  JOSEPH  THE  SEqpND. 

The  Emperor  approached,  and  tenderly  strove  to  lift  his.  mother  \vhile 
he  lavished  words  of  love  and  comfort  upon  her.  She  allowed  him  to 
lead  her  to  a  divun,  where  gradually  the  tempest  of  her  grief  gave  place 
to  deep-drawn  sighs,  and  finally,  to  peace.  The  crisis,  however,  was 
long  and  terrible,  for  the  affections  of  Maria  Therosa,were  as  strong  as 
herwill ;  and  fierce  had  been  the  conflict  between  the  two. 

For  some  time,  a  deep  silence  reigned  throughout  the  room.  Final- 
ly, the  Empress  raised  her  eyes  and  said,  "  You  will  speak  the  truth, 
both  of  you,  will  you  not  1"    ' 

"We  will,  your  Majesty,"  replied  the  Emperor  and  Van  Swieten. 
*'Then,  Joseph,  say  are  my  children  well  and  safe?" 

"They  are,  my  dearest  mother,  and  but  for  the  doctor's  prohibition, 
both  would  have  accompanied  us  thither." 

Maria  Theresa  then  .turned  to  the  physician.  "  Van  Swieten,"  said 
she,  "  you,  too,  must  swear  to  speak  the  truth.  I  have  something  to  ask 
of  you  also."  , 

"  I  swear,  your  Majesty,"  replied  Van  Swieten. 

"  Then  say  if  I  anr  the  cause  of  my  daughter's  death.*  Do  not  answer 
me  at  ouce.  Take  time  for  reflection,  and  as  Almighty  God  hears  us, 
answer  rale  conscientiously." 

There  was  a  pause.  Nothing  was  heard  save  the  heavy  breathing  of 
the  Empress,  and  the  ticking  of  the  golden  clock  that  stood  upon  the 
mantel.  Maria  Theresa  sat  with  her  head  bowed  down  upon  her  hands; 
before  her  stood  Joseph,  his  pale  and  noble  face  turned  towards  the  phy- 
sician, and  his  eyes  fixed  upon  him  with  an  expression  of  deepest  en- 
treaty. Van  Swieten  saw  the  look,  and  answered  it  by  a  scarcely  per- 
ceptible motion  of  his  head. 

"  Now  speak,  Van  Swieten,"  said  the  Empress,  raising  her  head,  and 
looking  him  full  in  the  face.  "  Was  Josepha's  visit  to  the  chapel-vault 
the  cause  of  her  death  ?" 

"  No,  your  Majesty,"  said  the  physician  gravely.  "  In  this  sense  you 
were  not  guilty  of  her  Highness's  death  ;  for  the  body,  in  small-pox,  is 
infected  long  before  it  shows  itself  on  the  surface.  Had  her  Highness 
received  the  infection  in  the  crypts  of  the  chapel,  she  would  be  still  liv- 
ing. Her  terror  and  presentiment  of  death  were  merely  symptoms  of 
the  disease." 

The  Empress  reached  out  both  her  hands  to  Van  Swieten  and  said, 
"Thank  you,  my  friend.  You  surely  would  not  deceive  me  with  false 
comfort ;  I  can,  therefore,  even  in  the  face  of  this  great  sorrow,  find  cour- 
age to  live  and  do  my  duty.  I  may  weep  for  my  lost  child,  but  while 
weeping  I  may  teel  that  Heaven's  will,  and  not  my  guilt,  compassed  her 
death.  Thanlc  you,  my  dear  son,  for  your  sympathy  and  tenderness. 
You  wnll  never  know  what  comfort  your  love  has  been  to  me  this  day." 

So  saying,  she  drew  the  Emperor  close  to  her,  and  putting  both  her 
arms  around  his  neck,  kissed  him  tenderly. 

"  Van  Swieten,"  said  she  then,  "  what  did  you  mean  by  saying  that 
'  in  this  sense '  I  was  not  guilty  of  Josepha's  death?" 


KING  OF  ROME.  22.> 

"  I  think,  your  Majesty,"  replied  the  Emperor,  "  that  I  can  explain 
tbpse  words.  lie  means  to  say  that  had  you  yielded  to  his  frecjuenl 
petitions  to  tnake  use  of  innocuhition  as  a  safeguard  against  the  violence 
of  the  smallpox,  our  dear  Josepha  might  have  survived  her  attack,  is 
it  not  so,  Van  Swieten  ?" 

—  "  Jt  13,  your  Majesty.  If  the  Empress  would  consent  to  allow  the 
introduction  in  Austria  of  innoculation  for  the  small-pox,  she  would  not 
only  shield  her  own  family  from  danger,  butwould  confer  a  great  bles- 
sing on  her  subjects." 

—  "Indeed,  Van  Swieten,"  replied  the  Empress,  after  pause,  "what 
you  propose  seems  sinful  t(5  me.  Besides,  I  have  heard  that  many  who 
were  innoculated  for  small-pox  have  died  of  its  effects.  Thepe  people, 
but  for  this,  might  have  lived  for  many  years.  How  can  1  reconcile  it 
to  my  conscience  to  assume  such  an  awful  responsibility  ?" 

"  But,"  urged  Van  Swieten,  "  thousands  have  been  rescued,  where 
.  two  or  three  have  perished.  I  do  not  say  that  the  remedy  is  infalli- 
ble ;  but  I  can  safely  say  that  out  of  one  hundred  cases,  ninety,  by  its 
use,  are  rendered  innoxuous.  Oh,  your  Majesty  !  When  you  remember 
that  within  ton  years,  five  members  of  your  family  have  been  victims 
to  this  terrific  scourge — when  you  remember  how  for  weeks  Austria  was 
in  cxtremest  sorrow  while  your  Majesty  lay  so  ill,  how  can  you  refuse 
such  a  boon  for  yourself  and  your  people?" 

"  It  is  hard  forme  to  refuse  any  thing  to  the  one  whose  skillful  hand 
restored  me  to  life,"  replied  the  Empress,  while  she  reached  her  hand  to 
Van  Swieten. 

"•  My  dear,  dear  motther,"  exclaimed  Joseph,  "  do  not  refuse  him ! 
he  asks  you  to  save  tHe  lives  of  thousands.  Think  how  difierent  life 
would  have  been  for  me,  had  my  Isabella  lived  !  Think  of  my  sisters — 
think  of  Antoinette  and  Maximilian,  who  long  to  be  with  you  and 
cannot." 

"Doctor,"  said  the  Empress,  "if  mv  children  were  innoculated,  how 
long  would  it  be  before  I  could  see  them  ?" 

—  '"In  two  hours,  your  Majesty  ;  for  in  that  time  the  poison  would 
have  permeated  their  systems." 

By  this  time  the  Empress  had  resumed  her  habit  of  walking  to  and 
fro  when  she  was  debating  anything  in  her  mind.  She  went  on  for  some 
time,  while  Van  Swieten  and  the  Emperor  followed  her  movements  with 
anxious  looks. 

Finally  she  spoke.  "  Well,  my  son,"  said  she,  coming  close  to  Jo- 
seph, and  smiling  fondly  upon  him,  "  I  yield  to  you  as  co-regent  of 
Austria.  You,  too,  have  some  right  to  speak  in  this  matter,  and  your 
wishes  shall  decide  mine.  To  you,  also.  Van  Swieten,  I  yield  in  grati- 
tude for  all  that  you  have  done  for  me  and  mine.  Let  Austria  profit 
by  this  new  discovery,  and  may  it  prove  a  blessing  to  us  all !  Are  you 
satisfied,  Joseph?" 

—  "  More  than  satisfied,"  exclaim.ed  he,  kissing  his  mother's  hand, 

"  Now  Van  Swieten,"  continued  Maria  TheroBti,  "hapten  to   innocu 


224  JOSEPH  THE  SECOND. 

late  my  children.  I  long  to  fold  them  to  my  poor  achuig  heart.  Re- 
member !  You  have  promised  that!  shall  see  them  in  two  hours." 

—  '-In  two  hours  they  shall  be  here,  your  Majesty,"  said  Van  Swle- 
ten,  as  he  hurried  away. 

'•Stop  a  moment,"  cried  Maria  Theresa.  "As  you  have  been  the 
instigator  of  this  thing,  upon  your  shoulders  shall  i'all  the  work  that  will 
arise  from  it.  I  exact  of  you  therefore  to  superintend  the  innoculatiou 
ef  my  subjects,  and  your  pay  as  Chief  Medical  Inspector  shall  be  five 
thousand  (lorins.  I  also  give  my  palace  at  Iletzendorf  as  a  model  hos- 
pital for  the  reception  of  the  children  of  fifty  families,  who  shall  there  be 
innoculated  and  cared  for  at  my  expense.  This  shall  be  the  monument  I 
will  erect  to  my  beloved  Josepha,  and  when  the  little  ones  who  there 
are  rescued  from  death  thank  God  for  their  recovery,  they  will  pray  for 
my  poor  child's  departed  soul.     Does  this  please  you,  my  son?" 

The  Emperor  did  not  answer. — His  heart  was  too  full  for  speech. 
The  Empress  saw  his  agitation,  and  opening  her  arms  to  clasp  him  in  her 
embrace,  she  faltered  ouf,  "  Come,  dear  child,  and  together  let  us  mourn 
for  our  beloved  dead."  * 


CHAPTER  XLVII. 

AN  ADVENTURE. 

It  was  a  lovely  day  in  June;  one  of  those  glorious  days  when  field 
and  wood  are  like  a  lofty  cathedral,  where  the  birds  are  the  choir,  and 
.the  wind  stirring  the  censers  of  the  forest  perfume,  is  the  organ ;  while 
man,  in  ecstacy  with  nature's  beauty,  glances  enraptured  from  heaven 
to  earth — from  earth  again  to  heaven. 

But  pleasantest  of  all  on  such  a  day,  are  the  reveries  that  come  and  go 
over  the  heart,  under  the  shade  of  a  noble  oak  that  lifts  its  crowned  head 
to  the  clouds,  while  birds  twitter  love-songs  among  its  branches,  and 
lovers  lie  dreaming  on  the  green  sward  below. 

So  thought  a  young  man  as  he  reclined  under  the  shadow  of  a  tall 
beech  tree  that  skirted  the  green  border  of  a  meadow,  somewhere  near 
the  woods  around  Schoubrunn.  Ho  had  fastened  his  horse  to  a  tree  not 
far  off,  and  while  the  steed  cropped  the  fresh  grass,  his  own,er  revelled 
in  the  luxury  of  sylvan  solitude.     With  an  expression  of  quiet  enjoy- 

*  The  institution  founded  on  ihat  day  by  the  Empress  went  very  soou  into  operation.  Every 
spring  the  children  of  fifty  families  among  tl^e  nobles  and  gentry  were  received  at  the  hosjJital  of 
Hetzendorf<  The  Empress  was  accustomed  to  visit  the  institution  froqueutly ;  and  at  the  end  of  each 
season,  she  gave  to  its  little  inmates  a  splendid  ball,  which  was  always  attended  by  herself  and  her 
daughters.  The  festivities  closed  with  concerts,  lotteries,  and  a  ])resent  to  each  child. — [Caroline  ■ 
richler'a  Memoirs;  vol.  1,  page  03,    Coxc's  Ilietory  of  lUe  House  of  Auftria ;  vol,  9,  page  IS?. 


KING  UF  HOME.  225 

ment  he  glanced  now  upon  the  soft  green  meadow,  now  at  the  dim,  sha- 
dy woods,  and  then  at  the  blue  and  silver  sky  that  parted  .him  from 
heaven, 

-^  Oh !  how  delightful  it  is,"  thought  he,  "  to  drop  the  shackles  of  roy- 
alty, and  to  be  a  man  !  Oh,  beautiful  sky,  with  livery  of  '  Kaiserblue,' 
change  thy  hue,  and  hide  me  in  a  dark  cloud  that  I  may  be  safe  from 
the  homage  of  courtiers  and  sycophants  !  If  they  knew  that  I  was  here, 
how  soon  would  they  pursue  and  imprison  me  again  in  my  gilded  cage 
of  imperial  grandeur  !^' 

Just  then,  in  the  distance,  was  heard  the  sound  of  a  hunting-horn,  and 
the  Emperor's  soliloquy  was  cut  short.  An  expression  of  annoyance 
was  visible  on  his  features,  as  he  listened.  But  instead  of  advancing, 
the  sounds  receded  until  finally  they  were  lost  in  the  sighing  of  the  wind 
among  the  forest  trees. 

,  "They  have  passed  by,"  exclaimed  he  joyfully,  "This  day  is  mine, 
and  I  am  free.  What  a  charm  is  in  that  word/rccrfow  /  I  feel  it  now ; 
no  Emperor  am  I,  but  a  man,  to  whom  the  animals  will  turn  their  backs, 
without  suspecting  that  they  refuse  to  look  upon  an  annointed  sove- 
reign  But  still — what  is  that  ?     A  doe — a  timid  doe — perhaps  an 

enchanted  princess  who  can  only  resume  her  shape  at  the  bidding  of  a 
prince.  Here  am  I  sweet  princess — ready,  as  soon  as  you  become  a 
woman,  to  leap  into  your  arms." 

The  Emperor  grasped  his  fowling-piece  that  was  leaning  against  the 
beech.  But  the  doe  caught  the  sound,  raised  her  graceful  head,  and  her 
mild  eye  sought  the  enemy  that  threatened  her.  She  saw  him  and  as 
he  raised  the  gun  to  take  aim,  she  cleared  the  road  with  one  wild  bound, 
and  in  a  few  moments  was  lost  in  a  thicket. 

The  Emperor  leaped  on  his  horse  exclaiming  :  "  I  must  catch  my  en- 
chanted princess" — and  giving  his  steed  the  rein,  away  they  flew  on  the^ 
track  of  the  doe;  away  they  flew  over  fallen  trunks  and  through  briar 
and  copse  until  the  panting  steed  would  have  recoiled  before  a  wide 
hedge — but  the  Emperor  cried,  "Over  it!  over  it !  The  princess  is  be- 
yond !"  and  the  foaming  horse  gathered  up  his  fore-legs  for  the  leap. 
He  made  a  spring,  but  mfssed,  and  with  a  loud  crash,  horse  and  rider 
fell  into  the  ditch  on  the  farther  side  of  the  hedge. 

The  Emperor  fell  under  the  horse,  who  in  his  efforts  to  rise,  inflicted 
dreadful  suffering  upon  his  master.  He  felt  that  his  senses  were  leaving 
him,  and  thought  that  he  was  being  crushed  to  death.  The  load  upon 
his  breast  was  insufferable,  and  in  his  ears  there  came  a  sound  like  the 
roaring  of  the  ocean.  He  uttered  one  cry  for  help,  commended  himself 
to  heaven,  and  fainted. 

How  long  he  lay  there,  he  never  knew.  When  he  opened  his  weary 
eyes  again  he  lay  on  the  sward  near  the  hedge,  w  ith  his  head  resting 
upon  the  lap  of  a  beautiful  girl,  who  was  contemplating  him  with  looks 
of  tenderest  pity.  By  her  side  knelt  another  young  girl  and  who  was 
bathing  his  temples  with  water. 

.    "■  15' 


226  JOSEPH  THE  bliCOND 

"Look,  Marianne,"  exclaimed  sho  joyfully,  "he  begins  to  move. 
Oh,  dear  sister,  we  have  saved  his  life." 

"  Still  Kathi,"  whispered  the  other.  "  He  has  not  yet  his  senses.  Ho 
looks  as  if  he  were  dreaming  of  angels.     But  he  will  soon  awake." 

"1  don't  wonder  that  he  dreams  of  angels,  Marianne,  when  he 
looks  at  you,"  said  Kathi  contemplating  her  beautiful  sister.  "  But  now 
that  he  is  safe,  I  will  go  and  look  after  his  horse.  Poor  animal  !  he 
trembles  yet  with  fright,  and  I  think  he  has  lamed  his  leg.  I  will  lead 
him  to  the  spring  where  he  can  drink  and  cool  his  foot.  You  know  the 
curate  says  that  water  is  a  great  doctor  for  man  and  beast." 

So. saying  she  took  up  the  bridle,  and  coaxing  the  horse  gently,  he 
followed  her,  although  he  shuddered  with  the  pain  of  his  limb. 

She  disappeared  behind  a  little  grove  of  trees,  while  her  sister  con- 
templated her  handsome  patient.  He  lay  perfectly  quiet,  his  eyes  open, 
but  feeling  too  weary  for  speech.  He  felt  uncertain  whether  he  waked 
or  dreamed,  nor  did  he  care ;  for  the  present  moment  was  unutterably 
sweet.  His  pain  was  slight,  and  with  his  head  pillowed  upon  the  lap  of 
the  lovely  girl  whose  face  was  beautiful  as  that  of  Eve  in  the  groves 
of  Eden,  the  Emperor  gazed  on  in  rapture. 

Mafrianne  became  gradually  aware  that  his  glances  spoke  admiration, 
for  her  color  slowly  deepened  until  it  glowed  like  the  petals  of  a  newly- 
opened  rose.  The  Emperor  smiled  as  he  watched  her  blushes.  "  Do 
angels  then  blush?"  asked  he  softly. 

"  He  still  dreams,"  said  Maiiaune,  shaking  her  head.  "  I  thought  just 
now  that  his  senses  were  returnmg." 

"  No,  child,"  replied  Joseph,  "  I  do  not  dream.  I  see  before  me  the 
loveliest  vision  that  ever  blessed  the  eyes  of  man,  or  else 1  have  over- 
taken the  enchanced  princess.  Oh,  princess  !  it  was  cruel  of  you  to  lure 
one  over  that  treacherous  hedge  !" 

Marianne  looked  alarmed.  ■'  Poor,  poor  young  man  !"  murmured 
she  in  a  low  voice,  "  he  is  delirious.    I  must  moisten  his  head  again." 

She  extended  her  hand  to  the  little  pail  that  held  the  water,  but  Jo- 
seph  caught  it  and  pressed  it  warmly  to  his  lips. 

Marianne  blushed  still  more,  with  painful  embarrassment,  and  sought 
to  withdraw  her  hand. 

The  Emperor  would  not  yield  it.  "  Let  me  kiss  the  hand  of  the  an- 
gel that  has  rescued  me  from  death,"  said  he.  "  For  'tis  you,  Marianne,  is 
it  not,  who  saved  my  life  ?" 

"My  sister  and  I,  sir,  were  coming  through  the  wood,"  replied  Marianne, 
"  when  we  saw  your  horse  galloping  directly  toward  the  hedge.  We 
knew  what  must  happen  and  ran  with  all  our  might  towards  you,  but 
before  we  reached  you,  the  horse  had  made  the  leap.  Oh,  I  shudder  when 
I  think  of  it?" 

And  her  face  grew  white  again,  while  her  lustrous  eyes  were  dimmed 
with  tears. 

"  Go  on,  go  on,  my .    No,  I  will  not  call  you  princess  lest  you 


KING  OF  HOME.  -27 

should  think  me  delirious.  I  am  not  delirious,  beautiful  Mariamie !  but  r 
dream  I  dream  of  my  boyhood  and  almost  believe  that  I  have  come 
upon'enchAted  ground.  Your  sweet  voice— your  lovely  face— this  de- 
licious wood ^it  all  seems  like  fairy  land  !     But  speak  on  :  where  did 

you  find  mel" 

"  Under  the  horse,  sir  ;  and  the  first  thmg  vre  did  was  to  free  you 
from  his  weight.  We  took  the  rein,  and  after  some  eflbrts  we  got  him 
to  his  feet.     Kathi  led  him  away,  and  1— I 

— "  >*ou,  Marianne,  tell  mc,  what  did  you  do  ?" 

*'  1,"  said  she,  looking  down,  "J  bore  you  as  well  as  I  was  able  to  this 
spot.'  I  do  not  know  how  1  did  it,  but  fright  gives  one  very  great 
strength." 

— "  Go  on,  go  on." 

"We  had  been  gathering  mushrooms  in  the  woods,  when  we  saw  you. 
As  soon  as  Kathi  had  tied  the  horse,  she  ran  for  her  little  pail,  poured 
out  the  mushrooms,  and  filling  ib  with  water,  we  bathed  your  head  until 
you  revived.  This,  sir,  is  the  whole  history,  and  now  that  you  have 
recovered,  I  will  help  you  to  rise."  ,      ,  - 

"  Not  yet,  not  yet,  enchantress.     I  cannot  raise  my  head^from  its 

delicious  pillow.     Let  me  dream  for  a  few  moments  longer.     Fairyland 
is  almof.t  like  heaven." 

Marianne  said  no  more,  but  her  eyes  sought  the  ground  and  her  face 
arew  scarlet.  The  Emperor  still  gazed  upon  her  wonderful  beauty,  and 
he  thought  that  nothing  he  had  ever  seen  in  gilded  halls  could  approach 
this  pea^unt  girl,  whose  red  dress  and  black  boddicc  were  more  dazzling 
to  his  eyes  tuan  the  laces  and  diamonds  of  all  Vienna  assembled. 

"Whored"  asked  he,  observing  that  her  snowy  shoulders  were  bare, 
"  where  did  you  get  a  kerchief  to  bathe  my  head  ?"  , 

Marianne  started  and  laid  her  hands  upon  her  neck.  *'  Good  heav- 
ens !"  murmured  she  to  herself,  "it  was  the  kerchief  from  my  own  bo- 
som!"   Unconsciously  she  reached  her  hand  to  take  it  from  the  pail. 

«  What,"  said  Joseph,  stopping  her,  "  would  you  wear  that  drip- 
ping kerchief?  No,  no— let  the  sky,  the  birds  and  the  wood-nymphs 
look  at  those  graceful  shoulders,  and  if  /  may  not  look,  [  will  shut  my 

CVGS, 

"  Oh  do  not  shut  your  eyes,  they  are  blue  as  the  sky  itself,"  replied 
Marianne.  But  as  she  spoke  she  drew  forward  the  long  braids  that 
trailed  behind  her  on  the  ground,  and  quickly  eutwisting  them,  her  hair 
fell  in  showers  around  her  neck  and  shoulders,  so  that  they  were  effectu- 
ally concealed.   ' 

"You  are  right,"  said  the  Emperor.     "Your  hair  is  as  beautiful  as 
the  rest  of  your  person.     It  surpasses  the  sables  of  a  Russian  princess. 
You  know  perfectly  well  how  to  adorn  yourself,  you  bewitching  child." 
"  I  did  not  mean  to  adorn  myself,  sir,"  said  Marianne. 
— "  Why  then  did  you  cover  yourself  with  that  superb  mantle  1' 
— "  Because,  sir,  I — I  was  cold."  ^^ 

— "  Arc  you  so  icy  thtu  that  you  freeze  in  raidsuinracr  V 


228  JOSEPH  THE  SECOMD. 

She  said  nothing,  but  bent  her  head  in  confusion.  Luckily  at  that 
moment,  Kathi  came  in  sight  wiih  tlie  horse. 

"  Nov.-,  sir,"  exclaimed  Marianne,  "  you  can  rise,  can  you inot  ?" 

— "  Not  unless  you  help  me,  for  my  head  is  yet  very  light." 

— "  Well  sir,  if  that  be  so,  then  stay  where  you  are,  and  try  to  sleep, 
while  I  pray  to  the  Blessed  Virgin  to  protect  you," 

I\Ieauwhile  Kathi  came  forward,  and  when  she  saw  the  Emperor, 
nodded  her  head. 

"  God  be  praised,  sir,"  cried  she,  "  you  have  your  senses  once  more. 
You  have  gotten  off  cheaply  with  only  a  black  eye. — But,  bles*  me  ! 
how  quiet  you  are  Marianne  !  Who  would  think  that  while  the  gentle- 
man was  out  of  his  senses  you  were  crying  as  if  he  had  been  your  sweet- 
heart.    Why,  sir,  her  tears  fell  upon  your  face  and  waked  you." 

"  Pardon  me,"  whispered  Marianne,  "  I  Aviped  them  away  with  the 
kerchief." 

"  Why  did  you  deprive  me  of  those  sweet  tears  V  whispered  the 
Emperor.     But  Kathi  was  talking  all  the  while. 

"  Now,"  continued  she,  '*  try  to  get  up.  Put  one  arm  around  me, 
and  the  other  around  Marianne,  and  we  will  set  you  upon  your  legs  to 
fmd  out  whether  they  are  sound.     Come — one — two — three — now  !" 

With  the  help  of  the  strong  peasant-girl,  the  Emperor  arose  and 
stood  erect.  But  he  complained  of  dizziness,  and  would  have  Marianne 
to  sustain  him. 

She  approached  with  a  smile  and  he  drew  her  gently  to  his  side,  and 
looked  ioto  her  eyes.  The  pooi"  girl  trembled,  she  knew  not  why,  for 
assuredly  she  was*not  afraid. 

Kathi,  who  had  gone  back  for  the  horse,  now  came  up,  leading  him 
to  his  master.  "Now,"  said  she,  "we  are  all  ready  to  go.  Your  horse 
is  a  little  lame,  and  not  yet  able  to  bear  you.  Whither  shall  we  lead 
you,  sir?     Where  is  your  home?" 

"  My  home !"  exclaimed  the  Emperor,  with  troubled  mien.  "  I  had 
forgotten  that  I  had  a  home."  This  question  had  awakened  him  from 
his  Idyl. 

"  Where  is  my  home  ?"  echoed  he  sadly.  "  It  is  in  Vienna.  Can  you 
put  me  on  my  road  thither?" 

"That  can  we,  sir;  but  it  is  a  long  way  for  such  a  gentleman  as  you 
to  travel  on  foot." 

"  Let  us  go  then  to  the  highway,  and  perhaps  I  will  there  find  some 
conveyance." 

"  Well  then,"  cried  the  gleeful  Kathi,  "  forward,  march  !" 

— "  Not  yet,  Kathi.  Not  until  I  have  thanked  you  for  the  gfeat  ser- 
vice you  have  rendered  me.  Let  me  give  you  some  testimony  of  my 
gratitude.  Before  we  part,  let  me  gratify  some  wish  of  yours.  Speak 
first,  Kathi." 

"H'm,"  said  Kathi,  "I  have  many  wishes.  It  is  not  so  easy  to  say 
what  1  want." 

— "  Wfll — take  time,  and  think  for  a  niomcut,  child." 


KlNl.   yjV    li'.'i'Vii..  v^V 

Kalhi  lookod  as  If  site  were  making  a  bold  resolve. 

^"That  ring  upon  your  finger— iL  is  the  prettiest  thing  I  ever  saw. 
Will  you  cive  it  to  ine?"  y        „■>, 

"Kalhi  1"  exclaimed  Marianne,  "  how  can  you  abk  such  a  thing? 

«'\Vhv  uof?"  returned  Kathi,  reddening,  "  did  he  uot  tell  me  to  say 
what  I  wanted  ?"  , 

"  Yes,"  said  I^tarianne,  in  a  low  voice,  ['  but  it  uvjy  be  a  gift— perhaps 
it  is  from  his  sweetheart!" 

"No,  Marianne,"  replied  the  Emperor,  sadly,  ''I  have  no  sweetheart. 
No  one  cares  whether  1  give  or  keep  the  ring.     Take  it,  Kathi." 

Kathi  held  out  her  hand,  and  when  it  had  been  placed  upon  her  finger 
she  turned  it  around  to  see  it  glisten,  and  laughed  for  joy. 

"And  you,  Marianne,"  said  Joseph,  changing  his  tone,  as  head  dressed 
the  beautiful  creature  who  stood  at  his  side,  "  tell  me  your  wish.^  Let 
it  be  something  hard  to  perform,  for  then  1  shall  be  all  the  happier  to 
grant  it." 

But  Marianne  spoke  not  a  word. 

"  Why,  Marianne,"  cried  Kathi  impatiently,  "do  you  not  see  that  he 
is  a  rich  and  great  lord,  who  will  give  you  anything  you  ask  ?  Why  do 
you  stand  so  dumb  1" 

"  Come,  dear  Marianne,"  whispered  the  Emperor,  "  have  you  no  wish 

that  I  can  gratify  f 

"  Yes,  sir,"  replied  Marianne,  in  a  voice  scarcely  audible. 

— "Speak  it  then,  sweet  one,  and  it  shall  be  granted." 

"Then,  sir,"  said  Marianne,  her  cheeks  glowing,  though  her  eyes  were 
still  cast  down,  "  my  father's  house  is  hard  by.  Come  and  rest  awhile 
under  his  roof,  and  let  me  give  you  a  glass  of  milk,  and  to  your  horte 
'  some  fresh  hay.' "  i-  i       r 

The  Emperor  seemed  to  grow  very  weak  while  Marianne  spoke,  for 
he  clung  to  her  as  though  he  had  been  afraid  to  fall. 

"  Yes,  Marianne,"  replied  he,  "  and  God  bless  you  for  the  kind  sug- 
gestion. Let  me  for  once  forget  the  world  and  imagine  that  I,  too,  am 
ft  peasant  with  no  thought  of  earth  beyond  these  enchanted  woods. 
Take  me  to  the  cottage  where  your  father  lives,  and  let  me  eat  of  his 
bread.     I  am  hungry." 

And  the  Emperor,  wllh  his  strange  suite,  set  ofT  for  the  cottag?  of  Con- 
rad,  the  peasant.  , 


i>30  joseVh  the  second. 


CHAPTER  XLVin. 

THE  JCDOMENT  OF  SOLOMON. 


Old  Conrad  stood  in  his  door-way,  shading  his  old  eyes  from  thfe  sun- 
heams,  while  he  looked  anxiously  down  the  road  that  led  to  the  village. 
It  was  noon-day,  and  yet  the  hearth  of  the  kitchen  was  empty  and  cold- 
No  kettle  was  on  the  hob,  no  platter  npon  the  table.  And  yet,  his 
daughters  had  started  early  for  the  woods,  and  surely  they  must  have 
gathered  their  mushrooras  hours  ago. 

The  old  peasant  began  to  be  anxious.  If  it  had  been  Kathi  alone,  it 
would  have  been  easy  enough  to  guess  at  the  delay.  She  was  gossiping 
with  Valentine,  and  forgetting  that  she  had  father  or  sister,  hon-ue  or  din- 
ner. But,  Marianne,  was  along,  and  she  never  flirted  or  loitered.  What 
could  be  the  matter  ? — But — what  was  that  coming  up  the  road  1  Marl- 
unne ! — Yes,  truly,  Marianne  with  a  fine  lord  at  her  side,  who  seemed 
closer  to  her  than  propriety  seemed  to  allow. 

"  Gracious  heaven  !"  thought  the  old  man,  "  what. has  come  over  my 
bashful  Marianne  1  What  would  the  villagers  say  if  they  should  sea 
her  now  1 — And  what  comes  behind  ?  Kathi,  with  a  horse. — Are  the 
maidens  bewitched  ?" 

They  came  nearer ;  and  now  Kathi,  from-  the  top  of  her  voice,  bade 
him  good-day. 

"  Are  we  not  fine,  father,"  cried  she  with  a  loud  laugh.  But  Mari- 
anne, coming  forward  with  the  Emperor,  bent  gracefully  before  her  old 
father. 

"See,  dear  father,"  said  she  in  her  soft,  musical  tones,  "we  bring  you 
a  guest  who  to-day  will  share  our  humble  dinner  with  us." 

"  A  guest  whose  life  has  been  saved  by  your  daughters,"  added  Jo- 
seph, extending  his  hand. 

"And  a  very  rich  somebody  he  must  be,  father,"  cried  Kathi,  "  for 
see  how  he  has  paid  us  for  our  help.  Look  at  this  brave  ring  how  iii 
glistens  !  It  is  mine  ;  and  Marianne  might  have  had  as  much  if  she  had 
chosen.  But  what  do  you  think  shaasked  him  ! — to  come  homo  and 
get  a  glass  of  milk." 

"  That  was  well  done  of  my  Marianne,"  said  the  father  proudly.  "It 
would  have  been  a  pity  not  to  let  me  see  the  brave  gentleman,  if  indeed 
you  have  been  so  happy  as  to  save  his  life.  Come  in,  my  lord,  come 
in.     You  are  welcome.     What  we  have,  we  give  cordially." 

"  And,  therefore,  what  you  give,  will  be  gratefully  received,"  replied 
the  Emperor,  entering  and  seating  himself. 

"  Now,  sir,"  said  Marianne,  '•  I  will  go  and  prepare  the  dinner."  So 
saying,  she  passed  into  the  cottage  kitchen. 


Ai:- 


"That  is  a  beautit'iri  maiaen."  said  Joseph  lookinj;  wi:*tfally  afier  tho 
graceful  figure  as  if.  disappcarc'l. 

"Thev  arc  mv  heart's  jov,  both  ol  them,"  rep! ;cd  Conrad.  ihe.v 
arc  brisk  as  fawns  and  indukrious  as  bees.  And  }cL  1  am  often  sad 
as  1  look  at  them." 

"  Because  1  ain  old  and  poor.  1  have  nothing  to  leave  them,  and  M'hcn 
I  die,  they  will  have  to  go  to  service.  That  frets  me.  It^is  because  1 
love 'the  maidens  so  dearly  that  1  am  troubled  about  them.' 

— "  Let  their  povcrtv  trouble  you  no  longer,  my  friendi  I  will  pro- 
vide for  them.  1  have  it  in  my  power  to  make  them  both  comfortable, 
?Bnd  that  they  shall  be,  I  promise  yon." 

The  old  man  spoke  his  thanks,  and  pfesently  oamc  Marianne  to  an- 
nounce the  dinner.  It  was  served  in  an  arbor  covered  wiih  honeysuck- 
les and  red  beans,  and  the  'Eraperor  thought  that  he  had  never  had  a 
better  dinner  in  his  imnerial  palace.  The  shackles  of  his  greatness  had 
fallen  from  him,  and"  he  drank  deeply  of .  the  present  hour,  ^^•'^^JO"t  '<' 
thouMit  for  the  morrow.  :Marianne  was  at  his  side,  and  as  he  looked 
into  the  lustrous  depths  of  her  dark  eyes,  he  wi^ihed  himself  a  peasant 
that  he  might  look  into  them  forever.  ,      .  rru 

Meanwhile  Kathi  and  her  father  walked  together  m  the  garden.  1  hey 
were  both  examining  the  diamond  ring,  and  the  hearts  of  both  were  tilled 
with  ambitious  thoughts  and  hopes.  _         ,,tt   u      rn^ 

"  He  must  be  very  rich,"  said  Kathi  in  a  low  voice.  '•  lie  has  fallen 
in  love  with  Marianne,  'tis  plain,  and  she  has  only  to  ask  and  have  any- 
thing she  likes.  Look  father,  he  is  kissing  her  !  But  don  t  let  them  see 
YOU  The  more  he  loves  her,  the  more  he  will  give  us.  But  you 
must  speak  to  Marianne,  father.  She  is  as  silly  as  a  sheep,  and  does  nt 
care  whether  we  are  poor  or  rich.  Call  her  here,  and  tell  her  that  shomnsi 
ask  for  a  great  sum  of  monev— enough  for  us  to  buy  a  fine  form,  ihen 
Valentine  will  marry  me  at  once,  and  I  shall  be  able  to  give  a  weddmg 
dress  to  all  the  other  maidens  in  the  village.  „      ,    ,  r.        i 

"Bat  suppose  that  the  lord  should  want  Marianne?'    asked  Conrad 

turning  pale.  .,  . 

Kathi  still  held  up  her  ring,  and  she  turned  towards  the  sun  until  it 
seemed  to  be  in  a  blaze.    «  Look,  father,"  said  she  in  a  low  tone, ''  ook. 

The  eyes  of  the  old  man  were  fixed  upon  the  jewel  and  strange  hopes, 
with  which  until  now,  he  had  been  unacquainted,  stirred  h^s  heart.  J  He 
serpent  had  found  its  way  to  Eden,  and  it  spoke  to  both,  in  the  glitter 
of  this  unhappy  ring.  '  ,    ,       ,        .  ti.:, 

"  Father,"  said  Kathi  at  length,  »  if  Marianne  had  such  a  ring  as  thi> 
on  her  linger  she  would  find  many  hundred  wooers  who  would  forgive  her 
for  having  had  one  before  them."  ,•      i    i 

"Silence,"  cried  the  old  man.  "  If  your  mother  were  alive  to  Hear 
these  guilty  words,  she  would  think  that  yon  were  no  longer  innocent 
yourself.  How  I  wish  she  was  here  in  this  trying  hour  !^  Bat  since  you 
have  no  parent  but  mo,  I  must  protect  you  from  shame.' 


2'Sil  JO^KI'H   IHE'SttUUND. 

With  these  words  the  old  man  walked  resolutely  to  the  arbor,  follow-' 
ed  by  Kathi,  who  implored  him  not  to  ruin  their  fortunes. 

"  My  lord,"  said  Conrad,  '•  the  day  wanes.  If  you  intend  to  reach 
Vienna  tu-night,  you  have  no  time  to  lose." 

"  Alas,"  thought  Joseph,  "  my  dream  is  over." 

"You  are  right,"  said  he  to  the  peasant,  "  unless  you  will  shelter  me 
to  night." 

'•  i  have  but  one  bed  in  my  house, -sir,"  replied  Conrad,  and  that  is  in 
the  little  room  of  my  daughters." 

"•Then  let  me  sleep  there,"  said  Joseph  with  the  arrogance  of  one  ac- 
customed to  coiwmand. 

"  Oh,"  faltered  Marianne,  springing  to  her  father's  side,  as  though  she 
would  seek  protection  from  these  ensnaring  words. 

But  Kathi  shook  her  sister's  arm,  and  surveying  her  blushing  face, 
with  a  loud  laugh,  she  exclaimed,  '•  You  are  a  fool.  What  harm  will  it 
do  us,  if  the  gentleman  sleeps  in  our  room?  W^e  can  make  ourselves  a 
bed  of  hay  on  the  lloor,  and  give  him  the  bedstead.  No  one  will  ever 
think  any  the  less  of  us." 

"  I  think  so,  too,"  said  Joseph,  who  was  now  resolved  to  see  of  what 
stuft" the  peasant  was  made.  "Do  not  hesitate  so.  Let  me  sletep  in 
your  daughter's  room  and  I  will  give  you  a  handful  of  gold  for  my 
lodging." 

Kathi  gave  a  cry  of  delight,  and  going,  close  to  her  father,  she  whis- 
pered,  "  Father,  you  will  not  refuse !  Think — a  handful  of  gold !  We 
will  be  the  richest  farmers  in  the  village!  There  are  two  of  us— there 
can  be  no  danger." 

"  Well !"  asked  Joseph  impatiently,  "  have  you  decided?  Did  you 
not  tell  me  that  you  were  poor,  and  is  this  not  an  opportunity  I  offer 
you  to  enrich  your  daughters?" 

"Sir,"  replied  the  old  man  solemnly,  "  I  do  not  know  whether  this 
opportunity  may  not  be  for  evil,  instead  of  good.  I  am  a  poor  and  sim- 
ple farmer,  and  cannot  decide  for  myself  whether  the  mere  fact  of  your 
sleeping  in  the  same  room  with  my  daughters  is  right  or  not.  Our  cu- 
rate is  a  very  holy  man  ;  I  will  apply,  to  him  for  advice." 

"  Very  well,"  said  Joseph,  "  go  and  fetch  hi.m  ;  he  shall  decide." 

Old  Conrad  left  the  garden,  followed  again  by  Kathi,  who  was  resolv- 
ed to  leave  the  great  lord  alone  with  her  sister.  Marianne,  who  before 
had  been  so  happy  and  unembarrassed,  now  started  forwards  with  the 
intention  of  going  with  her  father.  But  the  Emperor  would  not  allow  it. 
He  caught  her  by  both  hands  and  held  her  fast."  Stay,  frightened  doe," 
said  he  softly.  "  You  are  right,  dear  child,  to  tremble  before  men,  for 
they  are  full  of  deceit;  but  do  not  be  afraid  of  me;  I  will  not  harm 
you."  . 

Marianne  raised  her  dark  tearful  eyes  to  his  flice  and  gradually  a  smile 
lit  up  her  lovely  features." 

"  1  believe  you,  my  lord,"  said  she.  "You  have,  perhaps,  already 
jseen  that  I  would  do  anything  on  eartji  for  yOu,  were  it  even  to  give  up 


i 

my  life ;  but  for  no  one  would  J  do  that  which  iny  mother  would  blame 
if  she  were  living— on  no  account  would  I  do  that  which  I  might  not  tell 
in  prayer  to  my  Heavenly  Father."' 

The  Emperor  looked  once  more  at  her  lovely  face.  '•  Oh,  Marianne  ! 
why  are  you  a  peasant!"  exclaimed  he.  Then  raising  his  eyes  to  hea- 
ven,  "  Almighty  God,"  continued  he,  "  shield  her  from  harm.  In  Thy 
presence  I  swear  to  protect  her  honur,  even  from  myself." 

At  that  moment,  old  Conrad  appeared,  in  the  road.  At  his  side  was 
a  little  old  man  in  a  faded  cassock,  whose  spare  white  hair  scarcely  cov- 
ered his  bald  head.  Joseph  came  forward,  holding  Marianne"^y  the 
hand.  Kathi  darted  from  the  house,  laughing  vociferously.  The  Wiest 
advanced,  his  eyes  fixed  upon  tho  face  of  the  stranger.  All  at  once, 
pointing  with  his  finger  to  Joseph,  he  cried  out,  "  Conrad,  a  great  honor 
has  befallen  your  house.     Your  guest  is  the  Emperor  !" 

"The  Emperor!"  exclaimed  three  voices.  Two  in  joyous  tones,  the 
third,  with  the  cry  of  despair.  Conrad  and  Kathi  were  on  their  knees, 
Marianne  leaned.deathly  pale  against  the  arbor. 

"  Yes,  father,"  replied  Joseph,  mastering  his  annoyance  at  the  revela- 
tion. *'  Yes,  I  am  tfte  Emperor  ;  but,  ray  friends,  do  not  oiler  me  such 
homage  as  belongs  to  Ood  alone.  Rise,  Conrad,  old  men  should  not 
kneel  before  young  ones.  Kifee,  Kathi — men  should  kneel  before  pretty 
maidens — no  matter  whether  they  be  princesses  or  peasants.  And  now, 
father,  hear  my  petition — 1  am  tired  and  suffering — I  have  had  a  fall 
from  my  horse,  and  I  do  not  wish  to  go  lo-night  to  Vienna.  I  have  of- 
fered this  old  man  a  handful  of  gold  to  give  me  his  only  bed — the  one 
in  his  daughtei-'s  room.  But  he  will  not  give  his  consent  without  your 
approval.  Decide  between  us,  and  remember  who  it  is  that  asks  for 
lodging  here." 

The  head  of  the  old  priest  sank  upon  his  breast. 

«  Oh  !"  thought  Kathi,  "  I  hop<?  he  will  say  yes !" 

Marianne  made  not  a  movement,  while  her  father  looked  anxiously 
towards  the  priest. 

"Well,  father,  well !"  cried  Joseph.  "You  say  nothing;  and  yet  I 
have  told  you  that  the  Emperor  craves  a  uighi's  lodging  in  the  room  of 
these  young  girls.  You  see  that  I  ask,  where  I  might  command.  1 
should  think  that  the  lord  of  the  whole  land  is  also  lord  of  the  little  room 
of  two  peasant-girls !" 

"  Yes,  your  Majesty,  you  are  lord  of  the  room,  but  not  of  the  honor 
of  these  peasant-girls,"  replied  the  curate,  raising  his  eyes  and  steadily 
meeting  those  of  Joseph,* 

"  Nobly  answered,  father,"  replied  the  Emperor,  taking  the  old  priest's 
hand  and  pressing  it  between  his  own.  "  Had  you  decided  otherwise,  1 
would  not  have  forgiven  you.  Before  the  servant  of  the  Lord,  the  claims 
of  the  sovereign  are  on  an  equality  with  those  of  his  subject.  Pardoa 
me,  Conrad,  for  testing  your  honor  as  I  did,  and  accept  my  horse  as  a. 
token  of  my  respect.  If  you  should  ever  wish  to  sell  him,  bring  him  to 
Llfeof  Jospph  II,.  Kmperor  of  Ai^trm;  vol,  3.  page  f-J. 


2;:{4  JOSKPK   IHh  SECOlN'b 

the  iniperml  stables  and  he  will  be  ransomed  Liy  me  tor  a  thousand 
florins/'  •  ' 

"  Oh,  your  Majesty,"  acAd  Uif.  happy  old  man,  "  I  shall  die  content, 
for  my  children  are  provided  for." 

'^  Now  we  are  rich,"  arled  Kathi,  "  the  best  match  in  the  village  will 
be  proudsjto  marry  either  one  of  uS." 

The  Emperor  meanwhile  took  out  his  pocket-book  and  tearing  out  a 
leaf,  wrote  some  words  upon  it. 

Folding  the  paper,  he  advanced  to  Marianne,  and  handing  it  to  her 
said,  "  My  dear  child,  when  your  fother  presents  this  paper  to  the  Mar- 
shal of  my  jjousehold,  Count  Bosenberg,  he  will  give  him  in  return  for 
you,  five  hundred  florins." 

"  Five  hundred  florins !"  exclaimed  Kathi,  with  envious  looks. 

"  Take  the  paper,  Marianne,"  pleaded  the  Emperor.  "  It  is  your 
dowry." 

Marianne  raised  her  tearful  eyes,  but  her  hands  did  not  move  to  take 
the  gift.     She  reflected  for  a  moment,  and  then  spoke. 

"  Five  hundred  florins,"  echoea  she,  "is  not  that  a  large  sum?" 

"  It  is,  my  child,"  replied  Joseph. 

*'  More  than  the  value  of  the  ring  you  gave  my  sister,  is  it  not  ?"  asked 
she. 

The  Emperor  looked  disappointed.  "  Yes,  Marianne,"  replied  he  with 
a  sigh  ^"  you  have  no  reason  to  envy  your  sister.  Kathi's  ring  is  not 
worth  more  than  a  hundred  florins." 

lie  still  held  the  paper  in  his  hands.  Suddenly  Marianne  took  it 
from  him,  and  crossed  over  to  her  sister. 

'  "You  hear,  Kathi,"  said  she,  "you  hear  what  the  Enaperor  says. 
"This  paper  is  worth  five  times  as  much  as  your  ring.  Let  us  ex- 
change." . 

So  saying  she  held  out  the  paper,  while  Kathi  with  a  scream  of  de- 
light, snatched  it  from  her  hand  and  as  quick  as  thought,  drew  the  ring 
from  her  own  finger. 

"  If  you  repent  your  bargain,  Marianne,"  said  she,  "  so  much  the 
worse  for  you.     The  dowry  is  mine,  and  mine,  it  shall  remain," 

Marianne  did  not  listen.  She  placed  the  ring  upon  her  own  hand, 
and  contemplated  it  with  a  smile  of  satisfaction.  Then  going  up  to  the 
priest,  she  addressed  him  with  a  grace  that  would  have  been  winning 
in  a  countess.  "  Father,"  said  she,  "  you  have  heard  the  exchange  that 
Kathi  and  I  have  made.  The  dowry  is  hers — the  ring  is  mine.  As  long 
as  I  live,  I  shall  wear  this  token  of  my  Emperor's  condescending  good- 
ness. And  when-*!  die.  Father,  promise  me  that  my  ring  shall  go  with 
me  to  the  grave." 

The  Emperor,  all  etiquette  forgetting,  made  a  step  forward,  with  his 
arms  extended;  but  recovering  himself,  he  stopped,  his  arms  dropped 
heavily  to  his  side,  and  he  heaved  a  deep,  deep  sigh. 

Instead  of  approaching  Marianne,  he  drew  near  to  the  priest.  "  Fa- 
thtr,"  said  he,  "my  mother  will  perhaplj  feel  some  anxiety  on  my  ac- 


KING  Ob  iioMt;.  '23 Cj 

count.     Will  you  be-  so  kind  as  to   accompany  me  to  the  post-house 
^vhe^e  I  will  perhaps  be  able  to  procure  some  vehicle  for  Vienna." 

"I  am  ready,  your  Majesty,"  replied  the  curate,  "and  if  it  please 
you,  we  will  set  out  at.  once.' 

'•  So  be  it,"  sighed  Joseph.  "  Farewell,  Conrad,"  continued  he, 
"  hearken  to  the  counsels  of  your  excellent,  pastor,  for  he  is  a  faithful 
servant  of  God. — Farewell  Kathi ;  now  that  you  have  a  dower,  you 
will  speedily  tind  a  husband.  Lot  mo  be  godfather  to  the  ffrst  baby." 
Kathi  blushed  and  laughed,  while  the  Emperor  turned  to  the  pale 
Marianne.  He  took  her  hand,  and  pressing  it  to  his  lips,  he  said  to  the 
priest,  who  was  looking  on  with  anxious  eyes, 

"A  man  has  the  right  to  kiss  the  hand  of  a  lovely  and  innocent  girl 
like  this,  evea  though  he  have  the  misfortune  to  be  born  an  Emperor. 
Has  he  not.  Father  i"  » 

Without  waiting  for  an  answer,  Joseph  dropped  the  poor  little  cold 
hand,  and  turned  away. 

The  old  priest  followed,  while  Conrad  and  his  daughters  looked  on, 
scarcely  crediting  the  evidence  of  their  senses. 

The  Empc.or  had  reached  the  cottage-gate,  when  suddenly  he  lurned 
and  spoke  again. 

"Marianne,  one  last  request.  Will  you  give  me  the  kerchief  with 
which  you  were  bathing  my  head,  to-day  1  The  evening  air  is  cool 
about  my  throat.     I  am  subject  to  hoarseness." 

Marianne  was  trembling  so  that  she  could  not  answer.  But 
Kathi  came  forward,  and  taking  the  kerchief  from  a  rose-bush  where  it 
had  been  hung  to  dry,  she  ran  forward  and  gave  it  into  the  Emperor's 
hands. 

He  bowed,  and  continued  his  way. 

Marianne  gazed  wistfully  down  the  road  at  the  tall  and  noble  form 
that  was  disappearing  from  her  sight,  perhaps,  forever. 


CHAPTER   XLIX. 

TWO   AFFIAKCED   QUEENS. 

There  was  great  activity  in  the  private  apartments  of  the  Empress, 
Maria  Theresa,  whose  foreno6ns  were  usually  dedicated  to  business  of 
State,  was  now  engaged  in  giving  audience  to  jewellers,  milliners,  and 
raantsamakers. 

For  whom  were  these  preparations  ?  No  one  knew  although  every 
one  desired  to  know.    The  secret  seemed  especially  to  interest  the  two 


\ 


young  Archduchesses,  Caroline  and  Marie  Antoinette,  These  silks,  sat- 
ins, laces  and  jewels  signified — marriage.  Ol"  that,  there  could  be  no 
doubt,  but  who  was  to  be  the  bride? — The  Archduchess  Elizabeth  was 
past  thirty.  Could  it  be  that  there  was  any  truth  in  tlic  rumor  of  a 
projected  marriage  between  herself  and  the  old  King  of  France?  She 
was  tired  of  life  at  the  Court  of  Austria,  and  would  have  welconaed  the 
change,  had  the  negotiations  which  were  pending  on  that  subject  ever 
come  to  anything.     But  they  did  nott  * 

Caroline  and  Maria  Antoinette  were  very  incredulous  when  it  was 
hinted  that  their  mother's  preparations  were  intended  for  their  eldest 
sister.  They  laughed  at  the  absurdity  of  Elizabeth's  faded  preten- 
sions. 

"  It  must  be  I  that  am  about  to  be  married,'''  said  Caroline,  as  she  en- 
tered her  little  sister's  room  one  morning  in  full  dress.  "  The  Empress 
has  commanded  my  presence  in  her  cabinet  to-day,  and  that  betokens 
something  unusual  and  important. — But  bless  me  !  You  too  are  in  full 
dress  !" 

"  Yes,"  said    Marie   Antoinette  laughing,  and   echoing  her  sister's 
•words.     "  It  must  certainly  be  myself  that  is  about  to  be  married  ;  for 
the  Empress  has  commanded  my  presence  in  her  cabinet,  and  of  course 
she  has  something  of  great  importance  to  communicate." 
>    "How?  You  also?"  exclaimed  Caroline.     "  At  what  hour." 

"At  twelve  exactly,  your  Highness,"  answered  Marie  Antoinette  with 
a  deep  curtsey. 

— "  The  same  hour.  Then  we  must  go  together.  I  suppose  that  the 
Empress  intends  to  prop6se  a  husband  for  me,  and  a  new  tutor  for  you, 
Antoinette." 

"  Pray,  why  not  a  husband  ?"  laughed  Marie  Antoinette.  "  Because, 
you  saucy  child,"  replied  her  sister,  "  husbands  are  not  dolls  for  little 
girls  to  play  with,"  , 

Marie  Antoinette  tossed  her  pretty  head,  saying,  "  Let  me  tell  you 
Caroline,  that  little  girls  are  sometimes  as  wise  as  their  elders,  and  1  shall 
giv-e  you  a  proof  of  my  superior  wisdom,  by  not  returning  irony  for 
irony.  Perhaps  it  may  be  you,  who  is  to  be  married — perhaps  it  may- 
be both  of  us.  There  are  more  crowns  in  Europe  than  one.  But  hark  ! 
there  sounds  the  clock.     The  Empress  expects  us." 

She  gave  her  hand  to'her  sister,  and  the  two  Princesses  went  laugh- 
ing together,  to  their  mother's  room. 

The  Empress  received  them  with  an  affectionate  smile,  and  although 
her  daughters  were  accustomed  to  stand  in  her  presence,  to-day  she 
told  them  to  sit  on  either  side  of  her. 

They  were  both  beautiful,  and  their  mother  surveyed  them  with  pride 
and  pleasure.  "  Come,  dear  children,"  said  she,  "  we  will  banish  etiquette 
for  awhile.     To-day,  I  am  no  Empress,  I  am  but  a  mother. — But  why 

*  They  were  frustrated  tiy  the  Countess  Dubarry,  who  never  loriiave  the  Duke  of  Choiseul  for  en- 
tertaining the  project.  Dubarry  prevailed  upon  the  King  to  say  that  he  was  too  old  to  marry,  and 
9he  revenged  herself  on  Choiseul  bvbrnging  about  his  iU3Rrai,e.  Ak-x  Dnmas'sIIijtorv  of  Louis 
15  th. 


V 


KING  or  ROME,  237 

do  you  both  smile  so  significantly  at  one  another?  Are  you  guessing 
at  what  is  to  be  the  subject  of  our  interview  ?" 

"  What  can  it  be,  your  Majesty,  said  Caroline  gaily,  "  but  the  expla- 
nation of  the  riddle  that  has  been  puzzling  all  the  brains  in  the  palace 
for  a  moiitli  past?" 

"You  have  gaepsed,"  answered  Maria  Theresa,  laughing,  "It  is  of 
your  own  marriage  that  I  would  speak.  1  have  accepted  a  crown  for 
you,  my  Caroline,  and  the  .Ambassador  who  will  conduct  you  to  your 
kingdom  is  already  on  his  way.  Your  iro7tsseau  is  mngnificent  and  wor- 
thy of  a  queen.  Your  fair  brow  was  made  for  a»  royal  diadem,  and  in 
yonder  room  lies  one  that  is  made  up  of  a  <'onstcllation  of  diamonds." 

"  But  the  king — tfie  man — who  is  he?"  asked  Caroline  an.xiousiy. 
"Tell  mo,  your  Majesty,  to  whom  I  am  affianced?" 

The  Empress  brow  grew  ruffled.  * 

"  My  daughter,"  said  she,  "  a  princess  marries  not  a  king,  but  a  king- 
dom. It  is  given  to  few  mortals  wearing  crowns,  to  add  to  their  roy- 
alty, domestic  happiness.  It  becomes  you  more  to  ask  whether  von 
are  t6  bo  a  great  and  powerful  queen,  than  what  man  is  to  place  his 
crown  upon  your  head." 

The  Princess  was  silent,  but  she  said  to  herself,  "  If  she  means  to 
hand  me  over  to  the  horrid  old  king  of  France,  I  shall  say  emphatically 
—No!' 

The  Empress  went  on.  "  Diplofnacy  is  the  wooer  of  royal  maidens, 
and  diplomacy  has  chosen  you  both.  For  you,  too,  my  little  Antoinette, 
are  promised  to  the  heir  of  a  crown." 

Mario  Antoinette  nodded  to  Caroline.  "  I  told  you  so,"  said  she. 
"  Mama  did  not  call  me  hither  to  propose  a  new  tutor." 

"  Yes,  my  dear,"  said  the  Empress  laughing.  "  1  did  call  you  hither 
for  that  object  also.  A  little  girl  who  is  destined  to  reign  over  one  of 
the  greatest  nations  in  the  world,  must  prepare  herself  conscientiously, 
to  fill  her  station  worthily.  You  have  s  noble  mission,  my  child ; 
through  your  marriage  the  enmity  so  long  subsisting  between  Austria 
and  France,  shall  be  converted  into  amity  and  concoid." 

"France  !"  screamed  Antoinette.  "  Your  Majesty  would  surely  not 
marry  me  to' the  horrid  old  Louis  XV. !" 

"  Oh  no  !"  replied  the  Empress,  heartily  anmsed.  "  You  are  affian- 
ced to  his  grandson,  who  one  of  these  days  will  be  called  Louis  XVI,'' 

Marie  Antoinette  uttered  a  cry  and  started  from  her  seat.  "  Oh,  my 
God  !"  exclaimed  she. 

"  What— what  is  the  matter  ?"  cried  Maria  Theresa.  "  Speak  my 
child,  what  ails  you  ?" 

"  Nothing,"  murmured  Antoinette  shaking  her  head  sadly.  "  Your 
Majesty  would  only  laugh." 

— "  What  is  it  ?  I  insist  upon  knowing  why  it  is  that  you  shudder  at 
the  name  of  Louis  XVI.  ?  Have  you  heard  aught  to  his  disadvan- 
tage?    lias  your  brother,  the  Emperor " 

"  No,  no,"  interrupted  Marie  Antoinette  quicltly,   "  the  Emperor  has 


238  JOSEPH  THE  SECOND. 

never  mentioned  his  name  to  me — No  one  has  ever  spoken  disparaging- 
ly of  the  Dauphin  in  my  presence.  What  made  me  shudder  at  the  inert- 
tion  of  his  title,  is  the  recollection  of  a  fearful  prophecy  which  was  rela- 
ted to  me  yesterday,  by  my  French  teacher,  as  we  were  reading  the  his- 
tory of  Catherine  de  Mcdicis." 

— "  Tell  it  to  me,  then  my  daughter.*' 

"Since  your  Majesty  commands  me,  I  obey,"  said  the  young  girl, 
gracefully  inclining  her  head.  "  Catharine  de  Medicis,  though  she  was 
very  learned,  was  a  very  superstitious  woman.  One  of  her  astrologers 
owned  a  magic  looking-glass.  He  brought  it  before  the  Queen,  and  she 
commanded  him  to  show  her  in  the  mirror,  the  destiny  of  her  royal 
house.  He  obeyed,  and  drew  back  the  curtain  that  covered  the  face  of 
the  looking-glass." 

"  And  what  did  she  see  there  ?"  asked  the  Empress,  withinterest. 

Marie  Antoinette  continued.  "She  saw  the  lily-decked  throne  of 
France,  and  upon  it  appeared,  one  after  another,  her  sons,  Henry,  Francis 
and  Charles.  Then  came  her  hated  son-in-law,  Henry  of  Navarre  ;  after 
him,  Louis  XIII. — then  his  grandson,  Loui§  XIV. — then  Louis  XV." 

"  And  what  then  1" 

"  Then  she  saw  nothing.  She  waited  a  few  moments  after  Louis  XV. 
hHd  disappeared,  and  then  she  saw  a  figure  with  a  crown  upon  his  head, 
but  this  figure  soon  was  hidden  by  a  cloud,  and  in  his  place,  tlie  throne 
was  filled  with  snakes  and  cats,  who  were  tearing  each  other  to  pieces." 

"  Fearful  sight !"  said  Maria  Theresa,  rising  from  her  seat  and  walk- 
ing about  the  room. 

"  It  was  fqarful  to  Catharine  de  Medicis,  your  Majesty,  for  she  fainted. 
Now  you  know  why  I  dread  to  be  the  bride  of  the  one  who  is  to  be  5Si- 
ed,  Louis  XVI." 

The  Empress  said  nothing.  For  a  while,  she  went  to  and  fro  through 
the  room,  then  she  resumed  her  seat,  and  threw  back  her  proud  head 
with  a  forced  smile. 

"These  are  silly  fables,"  said  she,  "tales  with  which  nurses  might 
frighten  little  children,  but  only  fit  to  provoke  laughter  from  rational 
beings." 

"  Pardon  me,  your  Majesty,"  interposed  Antoinette,"  but  Louis  XV. 
is  not  too  rational  to  be  affected  by  them." 

"  How  do  you  know  that,  child  ?" 

"  I  know  it,  your  Majesty,  because  Monsieur  Le  Maitre,  who  publish- 
ed this  prophecy  in  his  journal  ^L'espion  Ttirc^  was  imprisoned  for  fif- 
teen years  in  the  Bastile,  on  account  of  it.  He  is  still  there,  although 
he  has  powerful  fr^Ajads  who  have  interceded  for  him  in  vain.* 

— "And  Aufresne  told  you  all  this  ?" 

"Yes,  your  Majesty." 

— "  He  ought  to  go  to  the  Bastile  with  LeMaitre,  then.  But  I  hope 
that  my  little  Antoinette  has  too  much  sense  to  be  aflfected  by  Au- 
fresne's  nonsense,  and  that  she  will  hold  herself  in  readiness  to  accept 

♦  Swinburne.    P.  60. 


KING  OF  ROME.  239 

the  husband  whom  her  sovereign  and  mother  has  chosen  for  her.  It  is 
a  bright  destiny,  that  of  a  Queen  of  France;  and  if  snakes  and  cats 
should  come  near  your  throne,  you  must  tread  them  under  foot.  Look 
up,  my  child,  and  have  courage.  In  two  years  you  will  be  the  bride  of 
the  Dauphin.  Prepare  yourself  meanwhile  to  be  a  worthy  representa- 
tive of  your  native  Austria.  The  Queen  of  France  must,  as  far  as  she 
is  able,  assLniilate  herself  to  the  customs  and  language  of  her  people. 
With  that  intention,  Prince  Kaunitz  has  commissioned  the  Duke  of 
Choiseul  to  select  you  a  new  teacher.  He  will  be  accompanied  by  two 
French  ladies  of  honor.  These  people,  my  dear,  are  to  form  your  man- 
ners according  to  the  requirements  ot  court  etiquette  in  Franco;  but  in 
your  heart,  my  child,  I  trust  that  you  will  always  be  an  Austrian.  That 
you  may  not  be  too  French,  Gluck  will  continue  to  give  you  music  les- 
sons. I  flatter  myself  that  the  French  cannot  compete  with  us  in  music. 
Study  well,  and  try  to  deserve  the  brilliant  destiny  in  store  for  you." 

She  drew  Antoinette  close  to  her,  and  kissed  her  fondly. 

"1  will  obey  your  Majesty  in  all  things,"  whispered  the  child",  and 
sadly  she  resumed  her  seat. 

"Now,  Caroline,"  continited  the  Empress,  "a  word  with  you.  You 
SCO  with  what  modesty  and  submission  yonr  sisters  has  accepted  her  des- 
tiny. Follow  her  example,  and  prepare  yourself  to  receive  your  affian- 
ced husband,  Ferdinand  of  Naples." 

It  was  Caroline,  now,  who  turned  pale  and  shuddered.  She  uttered  a 
cry  of  horror,  and  raised  her  hands  in  abhorence.  "  Never.  Never,  your 
Majesty,"  cried  she,  "  I  cannot  do  it.  You  would  not  be  so  unnatural  as 

tn— 1— '■' 

— "And  why  not?"  asked  the  Empress,  coldly. 

— "  Because  God  himself  has  declared  against  our  alliance  with  tho 
King  of  Naples.  lie  it  is  who  interposed  to  save  my  sisters  from  this 
marriage.     In  mercy,  my  mother,  do  not  sentence  7ne  also,  to  death !" 

The  Empress  grew  pale,  and  her  lip  quivered.  But  Maria  Theresa 
was  forever  warring  with  her  own  emotions,  so  that  nothing  was  gained 
for  Caroline  by  this  appeal  to  her  maternal  love. 

"  What !"  exclaimed  she,  recovering  her  self-possession,  "  do  you  also 
seek  to  frighten  me !  I  am  not  the  cowardly  simpleton  for  which  you 
mistake  me.  As  if  the  King  of  Naples  were  a  vampire  to  murder  his 
wives  at  dead  of  night !  No,  Caroline,  no  !  If  it  has  pleased  the  Al- 
mighty to  adlict  me,  by  taking  to  himself  the  two  dear  children  who 
were  to  have  been  the  Queens  of  Naples,  it  is  a  sad  coincidence — noth- 
ing more-" 

"  But  I  cannot  marry  him !"  cried  Caroline,  wringing  her  hands,  "  I 
should  be  forever  seeing  at  his  side,  the  spectral  figures  of  my  dead  sis- 
ters.    Mother,  dear,  mother,  have  pity  on  me  !" 

"  Have  pity  on  her !"  echoed  Antoinette,  kneeling  at  the  Empress's 
feet. 

"  Enough  !"  exclaimed  RIari.a  Theresa,  in  a  commanding ^voice.  "I 
!ift\  r  'ipokcn,  it  is  for  you  to  obey ;  foi  my  word  has  been  g'ven,  and  f 


240  JOSEPH   IHE  SECOND. 

cannot  retract.  If  -as  your  mother,  I  feel  ni}'  heart  grow  weak  with 
sympathy  for  yo'icr  weakness,  as  your  Empress  I  spurn  its  cowardly 
proaiptings;  for  my  inaperiai  word  shall  be  held  sacred,  if  it  cost  me 
my  life.  Rise,  both  of  you — ft  ill  becomes  the  Queens  of  France  and 
Naples  to  bow  their  knees  like  beggars.  Obedience  is  more  praisewor- 
thy than  humiliation — Go  to  your  apartments,  pray  for  courage io  bear 
your  crosses,  and  God's  blessing  will  shield  you  from  all  evil." 

"  I  will  pray  God  to  give  me  grace  to  die  in  IJis  favor,"  faltered 
Caroline, 

"^I  will  pray  Him  to  take  my  life  at  once,  rather  than  I  should  live  to 
share  the  destiny  of  Louis  XVI !"  whispered  Antoinette,  while  the 
two  imperial  martyrs  bowed  low  before  their  mother,  and  retired  each 
to  her  room. 

Maria  Theresa  looked  after  their  sweet,  childish  figures,  and  when  the 
door  had  closed  upon  thera,  she  buried  her  face  in  the  cushions  of  the 
sofa»where  they  had  been  sitting  together,  and  wept. 

"  My  children  !  my  children !  Each  a  Queen,  and  both  in  tears!  Oh, 
Heavenly  Father,  grant  that  I  may  not  have  erred,  in  forcing  this  weight 
of  royalty  upon  their  tender  heads.  Mother  of  God,  thou  hast  loved  a 
child  !  By  that  holy  love,  pray  for  those  who  would  faint  if  their  crowns 
should  be  of  thorns  !" 


Entered  accoi'ding  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1S64,  by 

S.  H.  GOETZEL, 

la  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  Alabama, 

for  the  Confederate  States  of  America. 


END  OF  VOL.  L 


yy 


mm 


1      Ifl 


f^ 


«!l^'B«5« 


OF 


_Jj.r 


ITI 


HARDEE'S  liNFANTRY  TACTICS.     9th  Editioiv. 
II    WHEELER'S  CAVALRY  TACTICS. 
^    LADY  AUDLEY'S  SECRET.  • 

8-  SILAS  MARNER. 


RAIDS  AND  ROMANCi^:S  OF  MORGAN  AND  HIS 
MEN.     2nd  Edition, 

TANNHAiJSER.  .       •     , 

THE  CONFEDERATE. 
CHAUDRON'S  SPELLING  BOOK. 

do     .        FIRST  READER. 

do       .  '  SECOND,  RE  ADM. 


V 


^AS^  Q-.  ni 


Copyrighi    Secured.  "  <^^y^@ 


JOSEPH  II. 


ASTD  HIS  COURT. 


Z%i 


T-VJ 


,t 


BY  L.  MUIILBACH. 


ffxom  tiJe  CrrntBii, 

BY  ADELAIDE  DeV.  CHAUDRON 


VOLUME  IT. 


MOBILE: 

S.  H.  GOETZEL,  PUBLISHER 


1864 


J)     Farrow  i.  Dennett,  Prlnttri,  MobiU. 


r 


f  •  •  • 


J  • .' 


r' 


L 

r 


s 


Fl 


m 


I — .    p^ 


L 

r' 


n 


..) 


J';, 


JL. 


— 1   r 


^^^••^•^••••••••«  ••••••••< 


:l^'!^'',! 


JOSEPH  II. 


AND  HIS  COURT. 


^n  Ptstfliital  |lo(jc(, 


BY  L.  MUHLBACH. 


ffvottt  tfjc  ®crinniH, 

BY  ADELAIDE  Do  V.  CHAUDRON. 


VOLUME  II. 


MOBILE: 

3.  H.  GOETZEL,  PUBLISHER, 
1864 


Entered  according  tor  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1864,  by 

S.  H.  GOETZEL, 

In  the  Clerk's  OfSce  of  the  District  Court  of  Alabama, 

for  the  Confederate  States  of  America. 


Farrow  ds  Dennett,  printers. 


JOSEPH  11.  AND  HIS  COURT. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE   DIN^JPR  AT  THE  FRENCH  AMDASSADOr's. 

Prince  Kaunitz  eat  lazily  reclining  in  his  arm  chair,  playing  with  hia 
jewelled  snufi-box  and  listening  with  an  appearance  of  unconcern  to  a 
.man  who,  in  an  attitude  of  profoundest  respect,  stood  before  the  Prince 
and  related  to  him  a  remarkable  story  of  a  young  Emperor  and  beauti- 
ful peasant-girl,  in  which  there  was  much  talk  of  woods,  diamonds,  milk 
and  an  A'rabian  steed. 

The  smilo  that  was  upon  the  face  of  the  Minister  might  rather  betoken 
amusement  or  incredulity.  • 

The  detective  was  at  that  period  of  his  story  where  the  Emperor  par- 
ted from  old  Conrad  and  his  daughters.  lie  now  paused  to  see  the  ef- 
fect of  his  narration. 

"Very  pretty,  indeed,"  said  the  Prijico,  nodding  his  head,  "but  ro- 
mances are  out  of  fashion.     In  these  days,  \re  prefer  truth." 

"  Does  your  Highness  suppose  that  1  am  not  speaking  truth  ?"  said 
the  man. 

Kaunitz  took  a  pinch  of  snuff,  and  replied  coldly,  "I  suppose  nothing 
about  it.  Somebody,  I  know,  has  been  playing  upon  your  love  of  the 
marvellous — I  know  that  you  are  not  telling  me  the  truth." 

"Your  Highness !"  exclaimed  Ebcrhard,  with  the  air  of  an  injored 
man,  "no  one  can  impose  upon  my  credulity,  for  I  believe  nothing  but 
that  which  I  see.  I  had  this  adventure  from' old  Conrad  himself,  and  I 
saw  him  receive  a  thousand  ducats  for  the  horse.  In  the  joy  of  his  fool- 
ish old  heart,  he  told  me  the  whole  story,  and  as  he  saw  the  deep  interest 
■vv'hich  I  felt  in  the  tale,  he  invited  me  to  his  house,  where  I  saw  the 
beautiful  Marianne  with  her  diamond  on  her  finger." 

— "Then  you  acted  like  a  fool,  for  the  Emperor  knows  you  as  well  as 
all  Vienna  does,  and  he  will  be  furious  when  he  discovers  that  we  have 
been  watching  his  pastoral  amours." 

"Indeed,  your  Highness  is  right,  I  would  be  a  poor  fool  to  go  there 
"without  great  precaution;  for,  as  you  very  justly  remarked,  I  am  well 
known  in  Vienna.  But  when  I  made  the  old  peasant's  acquaintance  I 
was  disguised,  and  I  defy  anybody  to  know  me  when  f  choo'5e  to  play 


4  JOSEPH  THE  SECOND. 

iyicognito.  I  wore  a  gray  wig  and  a  black  patch  over  one  eye.  In  this 
dress  I  visited  them,  and  hud  the  story  all  over  again,  with  variations, 
from  that  coquettish  village  beauty,  Kathi." 

— ''  How  loner  ajjo  V 

— "Three  weeks,  your  Highness,"' 

— "  How  many  times  since  then  has  tlie  Emperor  visited  his  inamo- 
rata f 

"  Six  times,  your  Highness.  Old  Conrad  has  bought  a  farm,  where  he 
lives  in  a  handsome  house,  in  which  each  of  his  daughters  now  has  a  room 
of  her  own.  Marianne's  room  opens  on  the  garden,  where  the  Emperor 
drinks  his' milk  and  enjoys  the  privilege  of  her  society." 

— "  Have  the  girls  any  lovers  1" 

— "  Of  course,  your  Highness,  but  they  have  grown  so  proud  that  Kathi 
will  have  nothing  to  say  to  her  svveetheart,  Valentine ;  wlaile  Marianne, 
it  is  said,  has  never  encouraged  any  of  the  young  men  in  the  village — 
Indeed,  they  are  all  afraid  of  her."  "^ 

— "  Because  they  know  that  the  Emperor  honors  her  with  his  presence." 

"  No,  your  Highness,  the  Emperor  has  not  allowed  the  family  to 
whisper  a  word  of  his  agency  in  their  newly-gotten  wealth.  They  give 
out  that  it  is  a  legacy." 

"  Do  the  Emperor  and  Marianne  see  one  another  in  secret,  without 
the  curate  and  the  father's  knowledge?" 

Eberh»rd  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "Day  before  yesterday,  Marianne 
went  alone  to  the  woods  to  gather  mushrooms,  and  never  came  home 
until  dusk.  She  had  been  lost  in  the  woods.  It  was  the  day  on  which 
the  Emperor  was  to  visit  the  flirm,  but  he  did  not  come.  Perhaps  he 
got  lost,  too.  To-morrow,  Marianne  is  again  to  gather  mushrooms-*-!, 
too,  shall  go to  cut  wood," 

"Is  that  ain"  asked  Kaunitz. 

"  That  is  all,  for  to-day,  your  Highness." 

"  Very  well.  Go  home  and  invent  a  continuation  of  your  story.  Let 
no  one  know  of  it  meanwhile  except  myself.  You  can  boast  of  more 
than  some  poets  and  literati  can  say,  for  you  have  amused  me,  and  I 
will  reward  you.     Here  are  two  gold  ducats  for  you." 

Eberhard  bowed  low  as  he  received  them,  but  when  he  had  left  the 
room,  and  was  out  of  sight  of  Kaunitz,  h^  turned  towards  the  door  mut- 
tewng,  "  As  if  J  were  such  a  fool  as  to  sell  my  precious  secret  to  you 
for  two  paltry  ducats !  I  know  of  others  who  will  pay  me  for  my  news, 
and^hey  shall  have  it." 

Meanwhile,  Kaunitz,  buried  in  his  arm-chair,  was  revolving  the  story 
in  his  mind. 

"  An  Emperor,  a  widower  of  two  wives,"  said  he  to  himself,  "  and  ho 
treats  us  to  an  idyl  of  the  genuine  Gessner  stamp  !  .  An  imperial  Da- 
mon who  spends  his  time  turning  wreaths  of  roses  with  his  Phillis ! 
Well — he  had  better  be  left  to  play  the  fool  in  peace:  his  Pastoral  will 
keep  him  from  meddling  in  state  affairs.  Men  call  me  the"  coachman  of 
European  politics ;  so  be  it,  and  let  no  on^  meddle  with  my  reins. 


That  noble  Empress  is  of  one  mind  with  me,  Imt  ihie  Emperor  would 
like  to  snatch  the  reins,  and  go  carccrinj;  over  the  heavens  /or  hiniiself. 
So  much  ihe  better  if  he  Hirts  and  dnnks'nulU  with  a  dairy-niaid.  But 
how  long  will  it  last  ?*  Ebci  hard,  of  course,  has  gone  to  J'lThamnier, 
who  being  piously  disinclined  to  such  little,  pastimes,  v'll  go  straijrht  to 
ihe  Empress;  and  then  Damon  will  be  reproved  and  1 — 1  may  tail  un- 
der her  displeasure  f«>r  having  known  and  concealed  her  son's  intrigue. 
What  shall  I  do?     Shall  1  warn  the  Emperor  so  that  he  can  carrv  oft' 

his  Semele,  and  go  on  with  his  amours  '?     Or  slmll  I Bah  !  Let  things 

shape  themselves.  What  do  I  care  for  them  all  I  I  am  the  coachman 
of  Europe — and  they  arc  my  passengers." 

So  .«;aying,  Knunitz  threvkf  back  his  head,  and  being  alone,  he  indulged 
himself  in  a  chuckle.  It  was  speedily  smothered  however,  for  three  taps 
at  the  dour  announced  the  approach  of  the  Minister's  valet. 

"Thj  fool  intends  to  remind  me  that  it  is  time  to  dress,"  said  he  to 
himself,  "  There  must  be  some  important  engagement  on  hand  to  n)ake 
him  so  audacious.     Come  in,  Hippolyte  !" 

"  Airy-  engagement  for  dinner!"  asked  he,  as  Hippolyte  made  his  ap- 
pearance, 

— "So,  please  your  Highness,  you  dine  today  with  the  French  Am- 
liassador,"'  '  • 

—"What  o'clock  13  it?" 

— "Three  o'clock,  your  Highness," 

— "It  Is  time.  Tell  the  cook  to  send  my  dinner  to  the  palace  of  the 
French  Ambassador,  His  P^xeellency  knows  the  terms  on  which  I  dine 
out  of  my  own  house?" 

"  I  haii  the  honor  to  explain  them  fully,  your  Highness." 

"And  h(^  acceded  to  them?"' 

'■  He.  did,  Tour  Highness.  Yonr  Highness,  he  said,  was  welcome  to 
bring  your  dinner,  if  you  preferred  it  to  his.  ,  He  had  one  request,  how- 
ever, to  make,  which  was  that  you  would  not  bring  your  post-dessert,  a 
request  whit-h  I  did  not  nnderstand." 

*'  I  understand  it  perfectly.  The  Count  de  Breteuil  means  that  he 
would  like  me  to  leave  my  mouth-cleaning  apparatus  at  home.  Come, 
since  it  is  time,  let  us  begin  to  dress." 

So  saying,  he  rose,  and  presently  he  wis  walking  to  and  fro  in  the* 
powder-room,  buried  in  his  white  mantle,  while  the  servants  waved  their 
povpder-brushes,  and  the  air  was  dense  with  white  clouds, 

"  Order  the  carriage,"  said  the  Prince,  when  Hippolyte  had  presented 
the  snuff-box  and  the  handkerchief  of  cobweb  cambric  and  lace,  "Three 
footmen  to  stand  behind  my  chair," 

Hippolyte  went  to  order  the  footmen  to  the  hotel  of  the  Count  de 
Breteuil,  while  his  master  slowly  made  his  way  to  the  ante-room  where 
six  lackeys  awaited  him,  each  one  bearing  aloft  a  long  silk  cloak, 

"What  says  the  thermometer  today?"  asked  he. 

The  lackey  with  the  first  cloak  stepped  to  a  window  and  examined  the 
thermometer  that  was  fastened  outside. 


O  ■         ■  JOSfJ'ii    iiili.-f'ECONL*. 

'*  Twelve  degrees,  your  Higline^s — temperate,''  said  the  man, 

'•Cold!  Four  cloaks,'"  saiii  Knunitz;  and  stepping  through  the  row 
or>-8rvaiUs,  one  after  the  other  laid  doak  upon  cloak  over  his  shoulders. 
When  the  fourth  one  had  been  wrapped  around  him,  he  ordered  a  fifth 
fnf  his  return,  and  putting  his  handkerchief  to  his  mouth  for  fear  he 
might  swallow  a  breath  of  air,  the  coachman  of  Europe  proceeded  to  his 
carriage,  where  Ilippolyte  was  ready  to  help  him  in. 

"  Is  my  mouth-cleaning  apparatus  in  the  rumble'?"  asked  the  Prince, 
as  he  sank  back  in  the  soft  cushions. 

"Your  Highness  said  that  his  Excellency  had  requested '' 

"Yes,  but  i  did  not  say  that  I  should  heed  his  Exceliency's  requests. 
Quick  and  bring  it  hither !     Cups,  brushes,  essences,  and  everything  !" 

Off  started  Hippolyte,  and  Kaunitz  drew  his  four  cloaks  around  his 
precious  person  while  he  muttered  to  himself,  "I  shall  show  my  lord, 
Count  de  Breteuil,  that  the  man  who  has  the  honor  of  receiving  Kaunitz 
at  ihis  table,  makes  no  conditions  with  such  a  guest.  The  French  Am- 
bassador grows  arrogant,  and  I  must  teach  him'  that  rules  of  etiquette 
and  customs  of  society  are  for  him  and  his  compeers,  but  not  for  me. 
Whatever  Kaunitz  does  is  becoming  and  en  regie — Voila  tout — = — For* 
wards !" 

Meanwhile  th«  Count  de  Breteuil  was  receiving  his  distinguished 
guests.  After  the  topics  of  the  day  had  been  discussed,  he  infornbed 
them  that  he  was  glad  to  be  able  to  promise  that  Prince  Kaunitz  would 
come  to  dinner  without  his  abominable  apparatus. 

"  impossible  !"  exclaimed  the  ladies. 

"  Not  at  all,"  replied  the  Count.  "I  have  complied  with  one  of  his 
absurd  conditions — he  brings  his  dinner;  but  1  made  it  my  especial  re- 
quest that. he  would  omit  his  usual  post-dessert." 

"  And  he  agreed  ?" 

"  It  would  appear  so,  since  he  has  accepted.  It  must  be  so,  for  see, 
he  is  here." 

The  Count  went  forward  to  meet  the  Prince,  who  deigned  not^  the 
smallest  apolopy  for  having  kept  the  guests  waiting  a  whole  hour. 

They  repaired  to  the  dining-room,  where  a  costly  and  luxurious  din- 
-  ner  made  amends  to  the  company  for  their  protracted  fast. 

Kaunitz,  however,  took  no  notice  of  these  delicate  viands.  lie  ate 
his  own  dinner,  and  was  .served  by  his  own  lackeys. 

"Your  Highness,"  said  his  neighbor,  the  Princess  Esterhazy,  "  yoa 
should  taste  this  Fdle  d  la  Soubis,  it  is  delicious." 

"  Who  knows  what  abotninable  ingredients  may  not  have  gone  into 
its  composition,"  said  Kaunitz.  "  I  might  poison  myself  if  I  tasted  the 
villainous  .compouwd.  It  is  all  very  well  for  ordinary  people  to  eat  from 
other  men's  kitchens;  if  ihey  die,  the  ranks  close  up  and  nobody  misses 
'them  ;  but  I  owe  my  life  to  Austria  and  to  Europe.  Eat  your  pdte  a  la 
Soubise  if  it  suit  you,  /eat  nothing  but  viands  a  la  Kaunitz,  and  1  trust 
.to  no  cook  but  my  own." 

It  was  the  same  with  the  Tokay,  the  Jdfeannisberg  and  the  Champagne. 


Kaunitz  affected  not  to  see  them,  while  ono  of  his  l.ickevs  reached  him 
a^lasaof  water  on  a  golden  salver.     K.nw.Ay.  held   it.   unto   the    li'-ti- 
"  IJow  dare  >ou  bring  me  water  from  the  Count's   fountain,"   saidV 
with  a  threatening  look.  -  ' 

_    "Ind-ed.  your  Hijzhness,'' stammered  the  frightened  servant  '-Idrevv 
it  myself  from  your  IJifrhncss's  own  fountain."  ' 

"  How,"  laughed  thp  Princess  Estcrhazy,  "  yon  bring  vour  water,  too''^ 
\es,  madam,     do,  for  it  is  the  purest  waterin  ViJnna,  and  I    h^ve 
already  told  you  that  my  health  isof  the   first  importance  to  Austria 
Joread,  Baptiste ! 

I5aptiste  was  behind  the  chair,  with  a  golden  plate,  on  which  lay  two 
or  three  {^lices  of  bread,  which  he  presented. 

"And  bread,  too,  from  his  house,",  cried  the  Princess,  lau-rhin-  im- 
moderately. '         o      o       " 

"Yes,  madam,  replied  Kaunitz  gravely,  "I  eat  no  bread  but  that  of 
my  own  baker. 

'iOh,"  replied  the  gay  young  Princess,  «'I  am  not  surprised  at  your 
takmg  such  wondrous  good  care  of  yourself;  what  astonishes  me  is/that 
you  should  be  allowed  to  enjoy  such  privile^res  in  a  house  that  is  not 
your  own.  Why  Lmus  XIV.  could  not  have  been  more  exacting  when 
he  condescended  to  dine  with  a  subjr.'ct! "  ^ 

Kaunitz  raised  his  cold  blue  eyes  so  as  to  meet  the  look  of  the  bold 
speaker.  "  ^ladam,"  said  he,  "  Louis  XIV.  was  Louis  XIV.  and  1  am 
Kaunitz. 

So  saying,  he  took  a  glass  of  water  from  his  fountain,  and  ate  a  piece 
of  bread  from  hs  baker.  He  then  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and  to..k  an 
animated  part  in  the  conversation.  This  was  onlv  because  thereby  no 
knew  that  he  would  dazzle  his  hearers  .by  speaking  English,  French, 'Ital- 
ian, or  bpanish,  as  occasion  required. 

•The  dinner  was  at  an  end,  and  dessert  came  on  the  table.     Of  course 
Kaunitz  refused  to  partake  of  it ;  l,ut  while  the  bt  "er  guests  were  enjoy, 
ing  their  confections,  he  took  advantage  of  a  pause  in  the  conversation 
to  say  to  his  pretty  neighbor,  ' 

foi"^r^'-u^'"'"''^'i'  ^^^^  ^'''^  c^'^P^'iy  have  enjoyed  their  dessert,  I  will 
take  the  liberty  of  ordering  mine.''''  r 

—"Ah!  you  have  your  own  dessert?"  asked  the  Princess,  while  the 
guests  listened  to  hear  what  was  coining.  . 

Finlni'''?'" '''''!,  ^^fr*^'-  "^  ^^^•^  "^•■^"g'^t  my  dessert  of  cour.c. 
-nippolyte,  my  etuiy 

wh^flT^V^^'"''""^^  ^^^  offensive  ctid  and  laid  it'  ou  the  dinner-tnble, 
case  wTf l^  ^''^^I-r^''^  ''''^  '""  -'^'-^  ^^  "■^^^'•-  ^^'^"""^  opened  th; 
^ever!   i?'ll      J"^'^^''^"?^  ^"d   examined    its   contents.     There  were 

stone  an^fn!l'"'Tf-  TT'  '''"^r/'*'  ^'"^'^^^'  ^^'^^''^«'  '^"'^««.  ^  ^'het 
VVhM     T^  ^  "^"  napkins.^'  : 

Ihp  Inrlil  \T'T    ^^*™'"^d     ^"-^   took  out  his  disgusting  little  UtCUsils, 

the  lad.e.  looked  at  CoMPt    Bvoteuil.  who  conld  sca>oelv  credit,   fh--   ovi- 
♦Swinburne   Vol.  1,  pagp  858. 


(lencp  of  his  sensoa.  Cut  as  Ivauniiz  set  a  looking  glass  before  him, 
he  raised  his  upper  lip,  and  closed  his  teeth,  preparatory  to  a.  cleaning, 
the  Count  rose  indignant  from  his  seat. 

"  Ladies  and  jrentlemcn,"  said  he,  "  we  will  return  to  the  drawing 
room  for  coffee,  Prince  Kaunitz  desires  this  room  to  himself." 

The  company  depaited,  leaving  Kaunitz  alone.  He  did  not  look  as 
if  he  had  heard  or  seen  anything.  He  went  on  grinning,  brushing  his 
teeth,  drying  them  in  and  out  with  his  napkins,  and  finished  oft'  with 
washingjiis  hands  and  cleaning  his  nails.  This  done,  he  walked  delib- 
erately back  to  the  drawing-room,  and,  going  imm^jdiately  towards  the 
host,  he  said,  \ 

"  Count,  1  am  about  to  return  home.  You  have  taken  very  .great 
pains  to  prepare  a  dinner  for  me,  and  1  shall  make  you. a  princely  reiurn. 
Prom  this  day  forward,  I  dine  no  more  from  home  ;  your  dinner,  there- 
fore, will  be  immortal,  for  history  will  relate  that  the  last  time  Prince 
Kaunitz  dined  away  from  his  own  palace,  he  dined  at  that  of  the  French 
Ambassador." 

With  this  he  bowed,  and  slowly  left  the  room. 


CHAPTER  II. 

MARIAN>fE's     DISAPPEARANCE. 

Kaunitz  remained  true  to  bis  policy,  in  the  dri^ma  of  "  The  Emperor 
and  the  Dairy-Maid."  He  allowed  things  to  run  their  course.  Twice 
n  week  Eberhard  came  with  additional  information,  to  which  the  Minis- 
ter listened  with  deep  interest,  but  his  interest  never  took  the  shape  of 
action.     What  did  he  cama^ 

.  "  This  imperial  idyl  is  a  disease."  thought  he.  "  It  will  have  its  crises 
hy  and  by,  like  a  cutaneous  eruption.  Let  it  come.  Why  should  1 
help  the  patient  when  I  have  not  been  called  in  ?" 

Not  long  after,  however,  he  was  called  in.  One  morning  he  was  lay- 
ing, in  his  dressing-gown,  on  a  divan,  his  head  bound  up  in  half  a  dozen 
silk  handkerchiefs,  and  his  whole  person  in  the  primeval  disorder  of  a 
slovenly  neglige,  when  his  valet  announced — the  Emperor  Joseph. 

Kaunitz  half  rose,  saying  with  a  yawn,  "Show  his  Majesty  to  the 
State  Reception-Room,  and  beg  him  to  await  me  there." 

"  1  have  no  time  to  wait,  my  dear  Prince,"  said  a  soft  and  melancholy 
voice  behind  him ;  'and,  as  Kaunitz  turned  around,  he  saw  the  Emperor 
who  was  already  at  his  side. 

The  Prince  motioned  to  Ilippolyte  to  leave  the  room'.     He  went  out 


■It-  -~i  i:  1.. 


on  tip.toe,  a<id,as  he  reached  the  threshold,  [he.  EmppiorMiim-^eif  closed 
the  door  and  locked  it.  linuuh/.,  who  h;ul  ribch,  stood  in  ihe  middle  of 
the  room,  looking  as  indilFerenL  to  the  vi^it  of  an  Emperor  as  to  that  of 
a  taiJor. 

"  Prince,"  8aid  Joseph,  retnrniii-  and  (.iTering  his  hand,  *'  we  have  not 
liithetto  been  good  friends,  but  you  sec  that  I  hold  vou  in  esteem  foi- 
<'urae  to  claim  }  our  assistance."  '  ' 

"  I  expected  vonr  Majesty,"  replied  Kuunitz. 

The  Eniperor  cast  his  eyes  over  the  velvet  dresslnrr-gown  and  thehalf 
dozen  head-hand.;erchiefs,  and  looked  his  astonishment.    The  Prince  un 
derslood  the  glance  and  replied  to  it. 

"  I  did  fiot  expect  your  Majesty  quite  so  soon.  A  l>w  hours  later  I 
jvould  have  been. ready  to  receive  you.  Will  you  permit  me  to  retire 
for  a  few  moments,  that  I  wav  at  least  make  my  head,  if  not  the  rest 
of  my  person,  presentable  ?" 

The  i^mperor  took  the  hand  of  the  Prince  and  led  him  b^cJ<  to  the 
d.van.  My  dear  Ivaunitz,"  said  he,  "  when  a  man's  head  is  in  such  -i 
maze  as  mine  to-day,  he  concerns  himself  very  little  about  the  looks  of 
other  men.     Sit  down  again,  and   I   will  take  this  arm-chair  by  vou  " 

:%J-^'''  r.^""V''  V^^  S''"^^*'  '^^'^^'  *^'^^^"  "PO"  the  divan  and  then 
seated  himseU  at  his  side. 

;•  Do  you  know  ulint  brings  me  to  you,"  said  Joseph,  blnshinff 
i-behevethatl  do,  your  Majesty.     It  i.   no  State   affair,   for  on 
btate  alfairs,  unhappily,  we  are  ever  at  variance. 

The  Emperor  laughed  a  sardonic  laugh.  "  What  need  have  I  of  a 
Mate  Counsellor  ],  who  am  but  a  puppet  in  the  handsof  mv  mother  ' 
i,  who  must  stand,  with  shackled  arms,  and  look  on,  while  she  reicm.i 
liut  It  IS  vain  to  murmur.  I  watch  and  wait;  and  while  J  wait,  I^find 
^  yself  inclimng  fast  (o  your  policy.  I  believe  you  to  be  an  honorable 
statesman,  and  I  believe  also,  that  the  course  you  have  pursued  you 
iiave  chosen  because  you  are  convinced  that  it  is  wise." 

"Your  Majesty  means  the  French  alliance,"  said  Kaunitz 

V\ou,  like  your  deceased  father,  have  always  opposed  it,"and  but  for 
the  hrmness  and  wisdom  of  the  Empress,  it  would  have  liiilod  Bat 
we  need  not  discuss  this  matter  to-day  ;  1  owe  the  honor  conferred  upon 
me  to  another  question."  ^ 

*'  Then  you  know  why  I  am  here  ?" 

of 'l^^^'^''^  ^^'^^  ^  know,"  replied  Kaunitz,  playing  with  the  silk  tassel.s 
of  his  dressing-gowTi.     -  I  have  lately  heard  a  tala  about   an  Emperor 

was  Jr^t  f''?  '"  ''  ^^''"'^  ^'f  ''''"'^  ^^  '^  ^^*^^"t  S''^-     'T^he  Sovireign 
2lfZui1n^"\T'"-fT-^^^  ^*'^^*^1   ^^--^hwith    melted 

away  with  love  at  the  sight  of  him,  as  Semele  did  for  Jupiter— that    too 

thccommi.tee  on  morals  do  not  approve  of  such  pastorals,  and  the  Em- 

ered?tlT^f^'°T";''''^''''''^?•^^^'I^^■^•     "  ^^ '^   '^'^y  ^vho  disoov- 
erea  u,  and  you  who  betraved  me." 


> 

Kaunitz  siiglftljo.leva.ted, his  shoulders,  and  his  eyes  restt-cl,  unmoved, 
upon  the  Emperor's  r^lowing  face.  "1  have  never  yet,"  said  lie,  "  de- 
scended to  the  office  of  an  informer.  Had  your  M:\jesty  addressed  me  on 
this  r,ubject  some  v;ee!vs  ego,  i  should,  have  said  to  your.Iviujesty,  'you 
are  dreaming  a  very  pretty  dreann  of  innocence,  moonshine,  and  child- 
ishness. If  j'ou  do  not  wish  to  be  roughly  awakened  go  and  dream  at 
a  distance  from  Vienna,  for  here  there  are  certainly  some  people  who 
will  think  it  their  duty  to  disturb  you  !'"  . 
' — "  Why  did  you  not  warn  me,  Kaunitz?'' 

— "  I  did  not  wish  to  have  the  appearance  of  forcing  myself  into  your 
Majesty's  confidence — T  had  not  been  entrusted  with  your  secret,  and 
had  no  right  to  warn  you." 

"No,  you  warned  the  Empress  instead,"  said  Joseph,  bitterly. 

. — "I  warned  nobody,  your  Majesty.  I  said  to  myself,  'He  is  an  en- 
viable man,  to  be  able,  in  the  midst  of  an  artificial  life,  to  enjoy  the 
sweets  of  rural  intercourse.'  I  foresaw  what  must  inevitably  happen, 
and  pitied  theinnocent  Eve,  who  will,  ere  long,  be  exiled  from  paradise." 

"  She  is  exiled  !"  cried  the  Emperor.  "She  has  been  removed — I 
know  not  where.     She  has  disappeared,  and  no  trace. of  her  can  I  find." 

*'  Disappeared," 'exclaimed  Kaunitz,  astonished.  "  Then  I,  have  not 
heard  the  whole  truth.  I  did  not  even  know  that  she  was  to  be  removed. 
I  only  suspected  it." 

"Tell  me  truth!"  cried  the  Emperor,  sharply. 

"  Sire,"  said  Kaunitz,  proudly,  "  there  may  be  circumstances  when  it 
is  the  part  of  wisdom  to  be  silent,  but  it  is  never  permitted  to  a  man  of 
honor  to  be  untruthful.  I  know  nothing  of  this  girJ's  disappearance. — ■ 
The  most  that  I  anticipated  was  a  forced  marriage.  This,  I  knew,  would" 
occasion  new  differences  between  the  Empress  and  your  Majesty,  and,  I 
had  supposed,  th:\t  you  were  coming  to  me  to  call  for  my  mediation." 

"  I  must  believe  you,"  sighed  the  Emperor.  "  But  prove  your  integ- 
rity  by  helping  me  to  find  hef.  Oh!  Kaunitz,  I  beseech  of  you  help  me, 
and  earn  thereby  my  gratitude  and  my  undying  regard  !" 

"  Have  !  waited  so  long  for  your  Majesty's  regard  to  earn  it  on  ac- 
countof  a  silly  peasant?"  said  Kaunitz  with  a  bitter  smile.  "I  hope  that 
I  shall  have  a  niche  in  the  temple  of  the  world's  esteem,  even  if  I  do 
fail  in  finding  the  daughter  of  Conrad,  the  boor.  If  your  Majesty  has 
never  esteemed  me  before  you  will  not  begin  to  do  so  to-day,  and  ns 
regards  your  promised  gratitude,  the  whole  world  knows,  and  your 
Majesty,  also,  knows,  that  I  am  not  to  be  bribed  ;  but  I  am  ready,  from 
the  depths  of  my  own  attachment  to  you,  to  do  all  that  I  can  to  help 

"  Kaunitz,"  said  the  Emperor,  offering  him  his  hand,  "  I  see  that  you 
intend  to  force  me  to  love  you." 

"  If  I  ever  did  force  your  Majesty  to  love  me,"  replied  Kaunitz,  with 
animation,  "I  should  count  it  the  happiest  day  of  my  life.  If  I  ever 
succeed  in  winnincr  your  confidence,  then  I  may  hope  to  con:iplete 
Jh?'  work  I  have  begun — that  of  uniting  your  Majesty's  dominions  into 


-MlUkV.'.;.   ui    AlSSivLi  I   , 


one  great  wtioie,  u^uoro  which  all  Earupe  shall  b  .^v  In  re-c.rencr  " 

"  Lefc  us  spe.-.k  of.  other  things,"  interrnpted  the  L'.nnrVnr     ''•  TleJn 
Tiie  to  I:nci  Manannp."  '         '  ^^'P 

—"Allow  me  one  question  then,— am  I  the  onlv  te- 
joiir  Majesty  has  spoken  on  this  subject ""'  ■  ""  "*  ^^"^^^ 
-No,— I  have  spoken  to  one  other  man.  I  have  vov.y^U^A  *h^ 
shrewdest  detcct.ve  iu  all  Vienna,  and  have  promised  hi  fero 
ward  .f  he  -.. servo  me.  He  came  to  me  this  rr^ortut"  H."  had 
ojscovered  noth.ng,  but  jrave  me  to  understand  that  it  was  ^uu  who  hJd 
betrayed  mo  to  the  Empress."  '  "^  ^^^ 
"What  is  his  name,  your  Majesty  '"'* 

to  the  Empress.     1,  too,  have  been  giviiic  him  aold  ■  wiihVli  ,^  iji'  ■ 

nulr:,f3™:7vt^r^To'"J:.:-rhir  '■»--^'--''«°^- 1-. 

"  I  must  jTo,''  cried  Joseph  impatientlv    "  I  mu^t  fr..^^  vi.    u     i 
1611  me  ^^hat  has  been  done  with  Marianne"  ^^"'^"'"'^  '^ 

-"  > ou  will  not  find  him.     He,  too,  has  disappeared." 
«  ""  VM     u""'"'^  ?:.'  ^"^  '^^'  Empress  to  beg  her  to  be  merciful  to  that 
poor  ch,  d  who  ,s  suffering  on  my  account.    1  will  e.xactTof  her  " 

"  That  will  only  make  the  matter  worse  " 

Joseph  stamped  his  foot,  and  uttered  a  cry  of  furv 

~~u  D      •  ^'^^^  '  ''^°'  ^^^"'"  exclaimed  he.  * 

—-'Be  silent  and  affect  indilference.     When  the  Fmnr««  k.t 
.    that  you  have  grown  careless  on   the  girl's  acclnr  shTPI',\     •''''' 
think  that  she  has  token   the  n.atter  t'oo  s^ri^  " 'to  Lnr     %Zll 
must  sell  h.sfarm  and  remove  fcr  away  from  Vienna     On^e  2  i  f 

:t  Hd  oTh  "^^  n^"i''-^  'f^'''^'^  ^"^^h«  En^;rcsrwiiit :  ";ifi 

to  be  nd  of  her.     Do  this,  and  all  will  be  right  "  ^  "^ 

Joseph  frowned  and  seemed  reluctant  to  follow  this  advice      Kaunitz 

«*^  ms  unwillmgness  and  continued,  tvaumtz 

"This  is  the  only  means  to  restore  thp  n-lil    tn.  r^^o^       c     ■    ■, 

your  Majesty  owes' her  this  repam  io  f.     Tl«  pio   niriXt  f  """''•  j'"'' 

precipitated  from  the  clomis.  and  as  tl^e  comodvls  o>    r     h    T  '"f-'^' 

fcaTa:l~ --  r-    '^^^^^^'^^1^^:  Mat 


will  do  anything  for  her  ha|)pinei55>,  provided  it  do  not  corn]>roraise  the 
honor  of  hei'  imperial' huu.->e.  And  she  is  right. '  But,  you  must  go — 
and  once  gone,  Marianne  shall  be  free." 

"  Free  not  only  from  others,'  but  from  me  also,"  said  the  Emperor, 
deeply  aflected.  "  I  feel  ihat  I  liave  erred  towards  this  innocent  young 
wirl.  I  have  deeply  siniK^i,  for  regardless  uf  her  peace  of  mind,  ]  have  • 
allowed  myself  lo  dream  ofalovfethat  could  bring  naught  hut  misery 
to  both.  For  i  will  not  conceal  from  you,  my  friend,  how  much  it  costs 
me  to  renounce  this  sweet  creature,  and  to  promise  that  I  will  see  her 
no  more.  My  intercourse  wit h.v Iter  was  the  last  dying  sigh  of  a  love 
which  has  gone  from  my  heart  forevermore.  But — It  must  be  sacrificed  ; 
rescue  her,  and  try  to  make  her  happy,  Kaunitz  ;  try  to  efface  from  her 
heart  the  memory  of  ray  blasting  love." 

— -"  1  promise  to  free  her,  but  1  cannot  promise  to  rescue  her  from 
the  memory  of  your  Majesty's  love.  Who  knows  that  from  the  ring 
which  she  has  sworn  to  wear  forever,  she  may  not  have  inhaled  a  poison 
that  will  shorten  her  young  life'?  To  rescue  her  from  such  a  fate  lies 
not  in  the  power  of  man.  Time — the  great  comforter,  may  heal  her 
wounds,  but  your  Majesty  must  promise  never  to  ask  whither  she  has 
gone.     For  you,  she  must  be  dead. 

"  I  promise,  on  my  imperial  honor,  never  to  see  her  again,"  said 
.foseph  in  a  faltering  voice.  "I  will  start  to-morrow.  Thank  God,  the 
world  is  wide ;  and  far  away  from  Vienna  I,  too,  can  seek  for  oblivion, 
and,  perchance,  for  another  ray  of  earthly  happiness." 

And  so  ended  the  pastoral  of  the  Emperor  and  the  village-maid. 


CHAPTER  III. 

COUNT    FALKENSTEIN. 

"  Away  with  care  and  sorrow  !  Away  with  royalty  and  state !"  cried 
the  Emperor,  as  the  long  train  of  wagons,  which  had  accompanied  him 
from  Vienna,  were  disappearing  in  the  distance.      ^, 

The  Empress  had  caused  the  preparation  tor  her  son's  journey  to  be 
made  with  imperial  pomp.  A  brilliant  cortege  of  nobles  and  gentlemen 
had  followed  the  Emperor's  caleche,  and  behind  them  came  'twelve 
■wagons  with'  beds,  cooking  untensiis,  and  provisions — the  whole  gotten 
up  with  true  princely  magnificence. 

The  Emperor  had  said  nothing,  and  had  left  Vienna  amid  the  chiming 
of  bells  and  the  loud  greetings  of  the  people.  For  two  days  he  sub- 
mitted to  the  tedious  pageants  of  public  receptions,  stiipid  addresses, 


K.MPEROK  OF  AUSTRIA.  |3 

girls  in   xrhite,  ar.d   flower-decked  arches ;  but,  on  the  inornimj  of  the 
third  day,  two  couriers  announced  not  only  to   the  discomfiited  eentle- 
men  composing  his  suite,  but  to  the    conductors  of  the  provisioti-train 
that  the  Emperor  would  excuse  them  from  further  attendance.  ' 

Everybody  was  astonished,  and  everybody  disappointed.  *  The  Em- 
peror, meanwhile,  stoqd  by  laughing  until  the  last  wagon  was  out  of 
sight. 

"  Away  with  sorrow  and  care!"  cried  he,  approaching  his  two  carriaffe 
companions,  Counts  Rosenberg  and  Coronini.  "  Now,  mr  friond-f" 
exclaimed  he,  putting  a  hand  upon  the  shoulder  of  each'one'  "now  the 
world  is  ours.  Let  us  enjoy  our  rich  inhe-itance.  But— bless  me  how 
forlorn  you  both  look  !  What  is  the  matter  ?  Ilave  I  l,een  mistaken 
in  supposing  that  you  would  relish  my  plan  of  travel  ?" 

"No,  your  Majesty,"  replied  Rosei.betg,  with  a  forced  smiJe  "but  I 
am  afraid  you  will  scarcely  relish  it  yourself.  You  have  parted  with 
every  convenience  that  makes  travelling  endurable." 

"Your  Majesty  will  have  to  put  up  with  many  a  sorrv  dinner  and 
many  an  uncomfortable  bed,"  sighed  Coronini. 

"iam  tired  of  comforts  and  conveniences,"  rejoined  the  Emperor 
laughing,  "and  I  long  for  the  variety  of  privatTion. '  But,  in  my  thourrht' 
lessness,  I  had  taken  it  for  granted  that  you,  too,  were  wearv  of  grandeur 
and  would  like  to  get  a  taste  of  ordinary  life.  If  [•  am  mistaken  vou' 
are  free  to  reti'rn  with  Diy  discharged  cort6ge;  I  force  no  one  to  ^iVire 
my  hardships.  Speak  quickly,  for  there  is  vet  time  for  me  to  select 
other  fcllu\v-!r:ivelors." 

"No,  no  >uur  Majesty,"  said  Rosenberg,  gaily, '•  1  will  go  whither 
you  go,  and  share  your  privations." 

"  Here  I  stay,  to  live  and  die  at  your  Majesty's  side  !"  cried  Coronini 
with  comic  fervor.  ' 

The  Emperor  nodd^  "  Thank  you  both,  my  friends,  I  Imd  counted 
upon  you,  and  would  Imve  regretted  your  refusal  to  fto  with  me.  Thank 
heaven,  we  are  no  longer  under  the  necessity  of  paradin^r  our  rank 
about  the  world.  I  cannot  express  to  you  the  joy  I  feel  at  the  prospect 
of  going  about  unnoticed,  like  any  other  man." 

"That  joy  will  be  denied  your  Majesty,"  said  Rosenbor<r  with  a 
slight  mchnation.  "The  Emperor  Joseph  can  never  go  unnoticed  like 
ordinary  men."  ' 

"  Do  not  hope  it,  your  Majesty  !"  cried  Coronini.  "  Your  Ifaie^'tv's 
rank  is  stamped  upon  your  brow,  and  you  cannot  hide  it."  ^ 

The  Emperor  looked  down  at  the  sandy  hillock,  on  which  thev  stood 
then  upwards  at  the  bright,  blue  sky  above  their  heads.  *  ' 

"  Are  we  then  under  the  gilded  dome  of  my  mother's  palace,"  said 
he,  after  a  pause,  "that  I  should  still  hear  the  language  of  court!  v  false- 
hood? Awake  my  friends,  for  this  is  not  Austria's  imperial  capitol. 
it  IS  the  world,  which  God  created,  and  here  upon  our  mother  earth  we 
stand  as  man  toman.  A  little  shining  beetle  is  creeping  on  my  boot 
as  lamilinrly  as  it  would  upou  the  sabot  of  a  base  born  laborer,    [f  uiv 


14  JOSfiPH  THE  SECOXD. 

•-livinc  right  were  written  upon  my  brow,  would  not  the  insects  ac- 
knowledge my  sovereignty,  as  in  Eden  they  acknowledged  that  of  Adam  ? 
But  no  !^— The  little  creature  spreads  its  golden  wings  and  leaves  nio 
^Fithout  a  sign.  Happy  beetle!  Would  that  I  too  had  wings,  that  I 
might  flee  away  and  be  at  rest!"  The  Emperor  heaved  a  sigh,  and  his 
thoughts  evidently  wandered  far  away  from  the  scene  before  him.  But 
pi-psenily  recalling  himself,  he  spoke  again.  Pointing  to  the  sky  hft 
said: 

"•  And  now,  friends,  look  above  you  wher^  the  heavens  enthrone 
it  Jehovah,  in  whose  sight  all  men  are  equal,  and  so  long  as  we  dwell 
Together  under  the  open  sky,  remember  Him  who  has  said  '  Thou  shalt 
have  no  other  Gods  before  me  !'  " 

—  *'  But,  your  Majesty " 

—  "Majesty!  Where  is  any  majesty  here?  If  I  were  a  lion  to 
shake  the  forests  with  my  roar,  1  might  pretend  to  majesty  among  the 
brutes,  bjiit  you  see  that  I  am,  in  all  things,  like  yourSelf — neither  nobler 
nor  greater  than  you.  In  Vienna. I  am  your  Sovereign:  so  be  it-,  but 
v»-hile  we  travel,  I  am  simply  Count  Ealkenstein.  I  beg  you  to  respect 
tiiis  name  and  title,  for  the  Falkensteins  are  an  older  race  of  nobles  than 
the  Hapsburgs,  and  the  turreted  castle  of  my  ancestors,  the  Count's,  is 
one  of  the  oldest  in  Jtrermany.  Away,  then,  with  royalty  1  I  ask  for  ad- 
mittance into  your  own  rank.  Will  you  accept  me,  and  promise  that 
we  shall  be  on  terms  of  equality  ?"  ^ 

He  offered  a  hand  to  each  of  his  friends,  and  would  not  permit  them 
to  do  otherwise  than  press  it,  in  token  of  assent. 

"  Now  let  me  tell  you  my  'plans.  We  travel  like  three  happy  fellows, 
bent  upon  recreation  alone.  We  go  and  stay  as  it  best  suits  us  :  when 
we  are  hungry,  we  will  dine:  when  we  are  tired,  we  will  jsleep.  A 
little  straw  will  make  our  beds,  and  our  cloaks  shall*  keep  tts  warm.* 
In  Florence  1  shall  be  forced  to  play  the  Emperdl,  as  the  r^igtiing  Dulce 
is  my  brother  ;,  but  he,  too,  will  join  us,,  and  then  we  shall  all  go  on 
traveling'  incognito.  First  we  visit  Kome,  then  Naples.  We  must, 
find  out  whether  our  sister  Caroline  has  taught  her  Lazzaroni.King  to 
read  and  write;  and  when  we  have  learned  something  of  her  domestic 
life,  we  will  tumour  faces  homewards.  In  Milan,  I  must  again  play  tho 
Emperor,  for  Lombardy  needs  my  protection,  and  I  must  give  it. 
From  Lombardy  I  return  to  Vienna.     Does  the  route  please  you  1" 

"Exceedingly,  Count,"  replied  Rosenberg." 

"  It  does  indeed,  your  Highness,"  added  Coronini. 

"  And  why  my  Highness?"  asked  Joseph,  laughing. 

"  Because  the  Counts  of  Falkenstein  were  Princes,  and  the  title  being 
appropriate,  I  hope  your  Majesty  will  allow  me  to  use  it." 

"  I  regret,  very  much,  most  worthy  master-of-ceremonies  itinerant, 
that  I  cannot  do  so.  1?ack  up  your  court-manners,  Coronini,  and  carry 
.  them  in  your  trunk  until  we  get  back  to  Vienna." 

*The  Emperor,  during  his  tour  as  Count  Falkenstein,  repeatedly  slept  on  straw,  o\'er  wbich  a 
If  Rther  coTcr  w^s  «pread.    Rubner  1,  r»g«  48. 


EMPEBOFw  OF  AUBTKIA.  15 

"  So  be  it  then,"  sighed  Coronini,  "  since  your  M ,  I  mean  mj 

lord  Count,  will    have  it  so,  wo  must  be  contRut  to  have  you  hidden 
under  a  cloud,  like  Jupiter,  when  he  made  acquaintance  with  Jo."     ■'• 

"  By  Jupiter,  Coronini,  you  are  ambitious  in  your  similes,"  replied 
the  Emperor,  laughing.     "  You  look  very  much  like  Jo,  do  you  not?" 

*'  I  hope  we  may  be  as  lucky  as  the  gods,"  interrupted  Rosenberg, 
"for  every  time  they  visited  the  earth,  they  were  sure  to  fall  in  with 
all  the  pretty  women." 

"True  ;  but  Mythology  teaches  that  the  women  who  aspired  to  love 
gods,  forfeited  both  happiness  and  -life,"  replied  the  Emperor,  with  a 
touch  of  sadness  in  his  voice.  "  But  pshaw  !"  continue^  he,  suddenly, 
"  what  do  I  say?  Away  with  retrospection!  Let  us  come  out  of 
the  cfouds,  and  approach,  both  of  you,  while  I  entrust  you  with  a  great 
secret 1  am  hungry." 

The  two  Counts  started  in  breathless  haste  for  the  carria^i^e,  near  which 
the  Emperor's  valet  and  the  postillion  were  in  earnest  conversation,  but 
they  returned  with  very  long  faces. 

"Count,"  said  Rosenberg,  sadly,  "  we  have  nothing  to  eat." 

"The  valet  says  that  Count  Falkenstein  ordered  everything  to  be  sent 
back  to  Vienna  except  our  trunks,"  sighed  Coronini.     "All  the  wine,, 
bread,  game  and  delicacies,  remained  in  the  wagons." 

"  Very  well,"  cried  the  Emperor,  laughing  heartily  at  the  coniretetnps, 
"  let  us  go  and  ask  for  dinner  in  yonder  village  behind  the  wood." 

"  The  postillion  says  that  there  is  not  a  public  house  anywhere 
about,"  continued  Coronini,  in  great  distress.  "He  says  that  we  will 
find  nothing  to  eat  in  the  village." 

Instead  of  making  a  reply,  the  Emperor  walked  to  the  hillock  and 
questioned  the  postillion  himself. 

"  What  is  the  name  of  the  village  beyond  the  forest  ?"  asked. he. 

"  Wichern,  your  Majesty." 

"Do  we  change  horses  there?" 

"  No,  your  Majesty,  we  harness  up  at  Unterbergen/' 

"  Can  we  get  any  breakfast  at  Wichern,  think  you  ?" 

"No,  no,  your  Majesty,  not  a  morsel  of  anything — none  but  peasants 
live  in  the  village." 

"  Well,  my  friend,  do  the  peasants  live  without  eating?" 

"  Oh,  your  Majesty,  they  eat  anything !  They  live  on  bread,  bacon, 
eggs  and  milk,  with  sometimes  a  mess  of  cabbage  or  beans." 

"  And  you  call  that  having  nothing  to  eat  ?"  exclaimed  Joseph,  has- 
tening joyfully  back  to  his  friends.  "Come,  come;  we  shall  find 
dinner  at  Wichern,  and  if  nobody  will  cook  for  us,  we  will  cook  for 
ourselves." 

Coronini  opened  his  eyes  like  full  moons. 

"  Why  dp  you  stare  so,  Coronini  ?  Are  not  all  soldiers  cooks  ?  I,  at 
least,  am  resolved  to  learn,  and  I  feel  beforehand  that  I  shall  do  honor 
to  myself.     Cook  and  butler,  I  shall  fill  both  offices.     Come,  we  are  go- 


16  JOSEPH  THE  SECOND. 

ing  to  enjoy  our?eIvcs.     Thomas,  tell  the  postillion  to  drive  as  far  as 
the  entrance  of  the  village.     We  will  forage  on  foot." 

The  Emperor  bounded  into  the  carriage,  the  two  noblemen  followed, 
the  postillion  cra<  ked  his  whip,  and  they  were  soon  at  Wiohern. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

WUAT  THEY   FOUND  AT  W1CHER^^ 

The  carriage  stopped,  and  before  the  valet  had  had  time  to  open  the 
door,  the  Emperor  leaped  to  the  ground. 

"  Come,"  said  he  merrily,  "  come  and  seek  your  fortunes.  Thomas, 
you  remain  with  the  carriage.  Drive  under  the  shade  of  that  tree  and 
wait  for  our  return.  Before  all  things  I  forbid  you  to  tell  anybody  who 
we  are.  From  this  day  forward,  my  name  is  Count  Falkenstein. 
Mark  me !  I  expect  you  to  preserve  ray  incognito.'''' 

"  I  will  obey  you,  my  lord  Cbunt,"  said  the  valet  with  a  bow. 

The  Emperor  with  his  two  companions  walked  towards  the  village. 
Nothing  very  hopeful  was  to  be  seen  as  they  looked  up  the  dirty  liitie 
streets.  The  wretched  mud  cottages  stood  each  one  aj^art,  their  yards 
separated  by  scraggy  willow  hedges,  upon  which  ragged  old  garments 
were  hanging  in  the  sun  to  dry.  Between  the  hedges  were  muddy  pools 
over  which  the  ducks  were  wrangling  for  the  bits  of  weed  that  floated 
on  the  surface  of  the  foul  waters. '  On  their  borders,  in  the  very  midst 
of  the  rubbish  and  kitchen-oftal  that  lay  about  in  heaps,  dirty  half-naked 
children,  with  straw-colored  hair,  tumbled  over  one  another,  or  paddled 
in  the  water.  In  the  farm-yards  around  the  dung-heaps,  the  youngest 
children  of  the  cottagers  kept  company  with  th'e  .sow  and  her  grunting 
pigs.  Before  the  slovenly  entrances  of  the  huts,  here  and  there,  sat  dirty 
unseemly  old  men  and  women,  who  stared  at  the  three  straugei's  as  they 
surveyed  the  uninviting  pictiire  before  them. 

"  I  congratulate  the  Emperor  that  he  is  not  obliged  to  look  upon  this 
shocking  scene,"  said  Joseph.  "  I  am  glad  that  his  people  cannot  cry 
out  to  him  for  help,  since  help  for  such  squalor  as  this,  there  is  none  on 
earth." 

"  They  are  not  as  wretched  as  you  suppose,"  said  Rosenberg.  "These 
people  are  scarcely  above  the  brute  creation ;  and  they  know  of  nothing 
better  than  the  existence  which  is  so  shocking  to  you.  They  were  born 
and  bred  in  squalor,  and  provided  their  pastures  yield  forage,  their  hens 
ffty  eggs,  and  their  cows  give  milk,  they  live  nnd  die  contented." 


EMPEROK  OF  AUSTKIA.  17 

"  If  so,  they  are  an  enviable  set  of  mortals,"  repliecl  Joseph  laughing, 
"and  we,  who  require  so  much  for  our  comfort,  are  poorer  than  they. 
But  as  there  is  no  help  for  our  poverty,  let  us  think  of  dinner.  Here 
are  three  streets;  the  village  seems  to  have  been  divided  for  our  .espe- 
cial accommodation.  Each  one  shall  take  a  street,  and  in  one  hour  from 
now  we  meet  at  the  carriage,  each  man  with  a  dish  of  contribution.  En 
avanti  I  take  the  street  before  me;  you  do  the  same.  Look  al  your 
watches,  and  be  punctual."  ' 

»  So  saying,  he  waved  his  hand,  and  hastened  forwards.  The  same  sol- 
itude and  misery  met  his  view  as  he  walked  on  ;  the  same  ducks,  hens, 
sows  and  tumbling  chil(j[ren,  with  now  and  then  the  sound  of  a  scolding 
woman's  shrill  treble,  or  the  melancholy  lowing  of  a  sick  cow. 

"I  am  curious  now,"  thought  the  Emperor,  "  to  know  how  and  where 
I  am  to  find  my  dinner.  But  stay — here  is  a  cottage  less  slovenly  than 
its  neighbors,  I  will  tempt  my  fortunes  there." 

He  opened  the  wicker  gate  and  entered  the  yard.  The  lazy  sow  that 
lay  on  the  dunghill,  grunted,  but  took  no  further  notice  of  the  imperial 
intruder.  He  stopped  before  the  low  cottage  door  and  knocked,  but  no 
one  came.  The  place  seemed  silent  and  deserted — not  the  faintest  hum 
of  life  was  to  be  heard  from  within. 

"  I  shall  take  the  liberty  of  going  in  without  awaiting  an  invitation," 
said  the  Emperor,  pushing  open  the  door  and  entering  the  cottage.  But 
he  started  at  the  unexpected  sight  that  met  his  view  as  he  looked  around 
the  room.  II  was  a  miserable  place,  cold  and  bare  ;  not  a  chair  or  any 
other  article  of  household  furniture  was  to  t»e  seen  ;  but  in  the  centre  of 
the  room  stood  a  small  deal  coffin,  and  in  the  coffin  was  the  corpse  of  a 
child.  Still  and  cold,  beautiful  and  tranquil,  lay  tlie  babe,  a  smile  still 
lingering  around  its  mouth,  while  its  half  open  eyes  seemed  fixed  upon 
the  whi*;e  roses  that  were  clasped  in  its  littfe  diriipled  hands.  The  coffin 
lay  in  the  midst  of  flowers,  and  within,  slept  the  dead  child,  transfigured 
and  glorffied. 

The  Emperor  advanced  softly  and  bent  over  it.  He  looked,  with 
tender  sympathy,  at  the  little  marble  image,  that  yesterday  was  a  poor, 
ragged  peasant:  to-day,  was  a  bright  and  winged  angel.  His  thoughts 
flew  back  to  the  imperial  palace,  where  his  little  motherless  daughter 
was  fading  away  from  earth»  and  the  father  priayed  for  his  only  child. 
He  took  from  the  passive  hands  a  rose,  and,  softly  as  he  came,  he  left 
the  solitary  cottage,  where  an  angel  was  keeping  watch. 

He  passed  over  to  the  neighboring  yard.  Here,  too, 'everything 
seemed  to  be  at  rest ;  but  a  savory  odor  saluted  the  nostrils  of  the 
noble  adventurer  that  at  last  betokened  the  presence  of  beings  who 
hungered  and  thirsted,  and  had  some  regard  Yor  the  creature  comforts 
of  life. 

'*  Ah !  said  the  Emperor,"  drawing  in  the  fragrant  smell,  "  That 
savors  of  meat  and  greens,"  and  he  hurried  through  the  house  to  the 
kitchen»  Sure  enough,  there  blazed  a  roaring  fire,  and  from  the  chim- 
ney-crane there  hung  the  steaming  pot,  whence  issued   the  delightful 


is  .lO^ilFH  THE  SECOND. 

siroma  of  budding  dinner.  On  the  hearth  stood  a  young  vroman  of 
oleanly  appearance,  who  was  sthriug  the  contents  of  the  pot  with  a 
great  wooden  spoon. 

/•  Good  morning,  madaro,"  said  the  Emperor,  in  a  loud,  cheerful 
voice.  The  woman  started,  gave  a  scream,  and  turned  her  glowing  face 
to  the  door.  ^ 

'•  What  do  you  mean  by  coming  into  strange  people's  houses  and  fright- 
ening them  so  f  cried  she,  angrily.     "  Nobody  asked  you  in,  I  am  sure  " 

"Pardon  me,  madam,"  said  the  Emperor.    "I  was  urgently  invited." 

'''  I  should  like  to  know  who  invited  you,  for  nobody  is  here  but  my- 
self, and  /  dou't  want  you." 

"  Yes,  madam  ;  but  your  steaming  kettle,  I  do  assure  you,  has  given 
me  a  pressing  invitation  to  dine  here." 

*'  Oh !  you  are  witty,  are  you  1  Well,  carry  your  wits  elsewhere. 
They  won't  serve  you  here." 

"My  kettle  calls  nobody  but  those  who  are  to  eat  of  my  dinner." 

"  That  is  the  very  thing  I  want,  madam.  I  want  to  eat  of  your  din- 
ner." As  he  spoke,  the  Emperor  kept  advancing,  until  he  came  close 
upon  the  kettle  and  its  tempting  contents ;  but  the  peasant  woman 
pushed  him  rudely  back,  and,  thrusting  her  broad  person  between  him- 
self and  the  coveted  ppt,  she  looked  defiance  at  him,  and  broke  out 
into  a  torrent  of  abuse. 

The  Emperor  laughed  aloud.  "  I  don't  wish  to  rob  you,"  said  he.  "  I 
will  pay  you  handsomely  if  you  will  only  let  me  have  your  dinner. 
What  have  you  in  that  pot?" 

"That  is  none  of  your  business.  With  my  bacon  and  beans  you 
have  no  concern." 

"  Bacon  and  beans !  Oh !  my  craving  stomach  !  Here,  take  this 
piece  of  gold,  and  give  me  some  directly." 

"  Do  .you  take  me  for  a  fool,  to  sell  my  dinner  just  as  the  men  will 
be  coming  from  ^e  field  ?" 

"  By  no  means  for  a  fool,"  said  the  Ei-rtperor,  soothingly,  "but  if  you 
show  the  men  that  golden  ducat,  they  will  wait  patiently  until  you  cook 
them  another  diimer.  Your  husband  can  buy  himself  a  fine  holiday- 
suit  with  this." 

"  He  has  one,  and  don't  want  two.  \Go  your  way,  you  shall  not  have 
A  morsel  of  my  dinner." 

"  Not  if  1  ^iveyou  /m;o  gold  pieces  ?  Come,  do  be  accommodating, 
and  give  me  tne  bacon  and  beans." 

"  1  tell  you,  you  shall  not  have  them,"  screamed  the  termagant.  *'  I 
have  no  use  for  your  gold,  but  I  want  my  dinner.  So  be  off  with  you  ; 
you  will  get  nothing  from  me,  if  you  beg  all  day  long." 

"  Very  well,  madam,!  bid  you  good  morning,"  said  Joseph,  laughing, 
but  inwardly  chagrined  at  his ^asco.  "I  must  go  on,  however,?'  thought 
he;  and  he  entered  the  yard  of  the  next  house.  Before  the  door  sat  a 
pale  young  wonian,  with  a  new-born  infant  in  her  arms.  She  looked  up 
with  a  languid  emilc. 


EMPKROR  OF  AUSTRIA.  19 

"  I  am  hungry^"  said  Joseph,  after  greeting  her  with  uncovered  fiead. 
"  Have  you  anytJiing  good  in  your  kitchen." 

She  shook  her  head  sadly.  "I  am  a  poor  weak  creature,  sir, and 
cannot  get  a  meal  for  my  husband,"  replied  she  ;  he  will  have  to  cook 
his  own  dinner  when  he  comes  home." 

—  "  And  what  will  he  cook  to-day  for  instance  1"' 

♦'I  suppose  he  will  make  an  dmelet;  for  the  hens  have  been  cackling 
a  great  deal  this  inorning,  and  an  omelet  is  made  in  a  few  niiinitcs." 

"  Is  it  ?  So  much  the  better  then,  you  can  show  me  how  to  make  one, 
and  I  will  pay  you  well," 

"Go  jn  the  hen-coops,  sir,  and  see  if  you  find  any  eggs.  My  husband 
will  want  three  of  them;  the  rest  are  at  your  service." 

"  Where  is  the  hen-coops  ?"  asked  Joseph  much  pleased. 

"Go  through  the  kitchen  out  into  the  yard,  and  you  will  see  a  little 
room  with  a  wooden  bolt ;  that  is  the  hen-coop." 

"  I  go,"  cried  Joseph  mcrril3\  Presently  great  commotion  was  heard 
among  the  hens,  and  the  Emperor  returned  with  a  glowing  flice,  his  hair 
and  coat  well  sprinkled  with  straw.  He  came  forward  with  both  hands 
full  of  eggs. 

"  Here  are  eight,"  said  he.  Three  for  your  husband,  and  five  for  me. 
Now  tell  me  how  I  must  cook  them." 

"  You  will  have  to  go  to  the  kitchen,  sir.  There  you  will  find  a  flitch 
of  bacon.  Cut  off  some  slices,  put  them  in  a  pan  you  will  see  there, 
and  set  it  ou  the  fire.  My  neighbor  has  just  now  made  some  for  poor  John 
Then'look  on  the  dresser  and  take  some  milk  and  a  little  flour.  Make 
a  batter  of  them  with  the  eggs,  pour  it  upon  your  bacon,  and  when  the 
eggs  are  done,  the  omelet  is  made.    It  is  the  easiest  thing  in  the  world." 

"  My  dear  good  woman,  it  will  be  a  desperately  hard  task  for  me," 
said  the  Emperor  with  a  sigh.  "I'm  afraid  I  shall  make  a  very  poor 
omelet.  Won't  you  come  into  the  kitchen  and  make  it  for  me  ?  Do, 
I  will  pay  you  well." 

"Dear  gentleman,"  said  the  young  woman,  blushing,  "do  you  think 
I  am  so  idle  as  to  sit  here,  if  I  could  get  up  and  help  you  ?  I  was 
brought  to  bed  yesterday  of  this  baby  ;  and  I  am  such  a  poor,  sicklj 
thing  that  I  shall  not  be  able  to  get  up  before  two  days.  As  the  day 
was  bright,  dear  John  brought  me  and  the  baby  out  here,  because  it 
was  more  cheerful  on  the  door-sill  than  within.  I  am  a  weak,  useless, 
creature,  sir.". 

"  Weak  !  useless !"  cried  the  Emperor,  astounded  ;  "  and  you  expect 
to  be  up  in  three  days  after  your  confinement.  Poor  little  thing  !  Have 
you  no  physician  and  no  medicine?" 

"The Lord  is  my  physician,  sir,"  said  the  simple  creature, ■*•  and  my 
medicine  is  the  fresh  air.  But  let  me  think  of  your  omelet,  sir.  If  you 
cannot  make  it  yourself,  just  step  to  the  cottage  on  the  left  and  call  my 
neighbpr.  She  is  very  good  to  me,  and  she  will  make  your  omelet  for 
you  with  pleasure." 

"  A  thousand  thanks,"  said  the  Emperor,  hastening  to  follow  the  di- 


20  JOSEPH  THE  SECOND. 

rection5.  He  retarned  in  a  few  moments  with  a  good-humored,  healthy 
young  woraian,  who  went  to  work  cheerfully  and  the  omelet  was  soon 
made. 

One  hour  after  ho  had  parted  from  his  friends,  the  Emperor  was  seen 
coming  along  the  street  with  a  platter  in  his  hand  and  a  little  bucket  on 
his  arm.  He  walked  carefully,  his  eyes  fixed  upon  his  precious  dish, 
all  anxiety  lest  it  should  fall  from  his  hands. 

Thomas  was  thunderstruck.  An  Emperor  carrying  an  earthen  platter 
in  his  hand  !  He  darted  forward  to  receive  it,  but  Joseph  motioned 
him  away, 

"  Don't  touch  me,  Thomas,"  said  \te,  "  or  I  shall  let  it  fall.     I  intend 
to  place  it  with  my  own  hands.     Go,  now,  and  set  the  table.     Pile  up  " 
some  of  those  fiat  stones,  and   bring   the   carriage  Cushions.     We  will 
dine  under  that  wide-spreading  oak.     Make  haste,  I  am  very  hungry." 

Off  went  Thomas,  obedient,  though  bewildered ;  apd  he  had  soon 
improvised  a  table,  over  which  he  laid  a  shining  damask  cloth.  Luckily, 
the  Emperor's  camp-chest  had  not  been  put  in  the  baggagerwagon,  or 
his  Majesty  would  have  had  to  eat  with  his  fingers.  But  the  golden 
service  was  soon  forthcoming,  with  goblets  of  sparkling  crystal,  and 
three  bottles  of  fine  old  Hungarian  wine. 

"  Now,"  said  Joseph,  triumphantly.  "  Let  me  place  my  dishes." 
With  these  words  he  put  on  his  platter  and  basket  with  great  ceremony 
and  undisguised  satisfaction. 

A  curious  medley  of  wealth  and  poverty  were  these  golden  plates  and 
forks  with  the  coarse  red  platter,  that  contained  the  hard-earned  omelet. 
But  the  omelet  was  smoking  and  sayory,  and  the  strawberries  were 
splendid. 

While  the  Emperor  was  enjoying  the  result  of  his  foraging  expedi- 
tion, Rosenberg  and  Coronini  were  seen  approaching,  each  with  his 
earthen  plf^tter  in  his  hand. 

.     "  The  hour  is  up  and  we  are  here,"  said  Coronini.    "  I  have  the  honor 
of  laying  my  dish  at  your  M feet,  Count." 

"  Potatoes !  beautiful,  roasted  potatoes,"  cried  Joseph.  "  Why  Count, 
,  you  have  brought  us  a  treat." 

"  I  rejoice  to  hear  it,  my  lord  Count,  for  I  was  threatened  with  a  broorh 
stick  when  I  tore  it  from  the  hands  of  the  woman  who  vowed  1  should 
not  have  a  single  potatoe.  I  dashed  two  ducats  at  her  fee^  and  made 
off  with  all  speed;  for  the  hour  was  almost  up,  and  I  had  exhausted  all 
my  manners  in  the  ten  houses,  which  I  had  visited  in  vain,  before;  my 
successful  raid  upon  her's." 

"  And  will  not  my  lord  Count  cast  an  eye  upon  my  dish  ?"  asked 
Kosenberg. 

"  He  has  obtained  that  for  which  I  sued  in  vain !"  cried  Joseph.  "  Ho 
has  actually  brought  bacon  and  beans." 

"  But  1  did  not  sue ;  I  stormed  and  threatened.  Neither  did  I  waste  my 
gold  to  obtain  my  end.  I  threw  the  woman  a  silver  dollar  and  plenty 
of  ftbuse  in  ihe  bargain'" 


tlAlPKKuH  Ol    AUSTKIA  'J  1 

< 

"  Lot  us  be  seated  !"  said  the  Emperor,  "and  pray  admire  my  omelet 
and  strawberries.  Now,  Coronini,  the  strawberries  are  tempting,  but 
before  you  taste  them  1  must  tell  you  that  they  are  tainted  with  treason  : 
treason  towards  my  own  sacred  person.  Reflect  well  before  you  decide 
to  eat  of  thena.  What  I  am  going  to  relate  is  as  terrible  as  it  is  true. 
While  my  omelet  was  cooking,  I  strolled  out  into  the  road  to  see  if 
there  was  anything  else  in  Wichern  besides  poultry,  pigs  and  dirty 
children.  Coming  towards  me  I  perceived  a  pretty  little  bare-foot  boy, 
with  a  basket  full  of  red,  luscious  strawberries.  1  asked  where  hw  was 
going.  He  said,  to  the  neighboring  village  to  sell  his  strawberries  to 
the  farmer's  wife,  who  had  ordered  them.  I  offered  to  buy  them  but 
my  gold  could  not  tempt  the  child — he  refused  peremptorily  to  sell 
them  to  me  at  any  price.  I  argued,  I  pleaded,  I  threatened  all  to  no 
purpose.  At  length,  seeing  there  was  no  other  alternative,  I  snatched 
his  strawberries  away,  threw  him  a  ducat,  and  walked  oft' with  the  prize. 
He  picked  up  the  gold,  but  as  he  did  so,  he  saluted  my  imperial  ears 
with  an  epithet — such  an  epithet!  Ob,  you  will  shudder  when  you 
hear  what  language  the  little  rascal  used  to  his  sovereign  ■  You  never 
will  be  able  to  bear  it,  Coronini,  you,  whose  loyalty  is  offended  every 
time  you  address  me  as  Count  Falkenstein.  I  only  wonder  that  the 
sun  did  not  hide  its  head,  and  the  earth  tremble  at  the  sacrilege!  What 
<\o  you  suppose  he  called  mel  An  ass  !  He  did,  1  assure  you.  That 
little  bare-legged  boy  called  his  Emperor  an  ass  !  Now,  Coronini,  do 
you  think  you  can  taste>of  the  strawberries  that  were  gathered  by  those 
treacherous  little  hands  1"  ■ 

"  If  my  lord  Count  allows  itj  I  •will  venture  to  eat,"  replied  Coronini, 
"  for  I  really  think  there  was  no  treasoi;i  committed." 

"  What!  not  when  he  called  me  an " 

"  Pray  do  not  say  it  again,"  entreated  Coronini,  raising  his  hands  dep- 
recatingly  ;  "  it  cuts  me  to  the  heart.  But  Count  Falkenstein  had  al- 
ready proclaimed  that  no  majesty  was  by,  and  when  no  majesty  was 
there,  no  majesty  could  be  insulted." 

"  Oh,  you  sophist !  Did  you  not  say  that  I  wore  my  title  upon  my 
brow  1  Did  you  not  tell  rae  that  I  could  not  hide  my  majesty  from  the 
sons  of  men?  But  I  forgive  you  and  the  boy  also.  Let  us  drink  his 
health  while  we  enjoy  his  strawberries.  Fill  your  glasses  to  the  brim, 
and  having  done  honor  to  those  who  furnished  our"  repast,  allow  me  to 
propose — ourselves  :  '  To  the  health  of  those  who  are  about  to,  eat  a 
dinner  which  they  have  earned  by  the  sweat  of  their  brow.'"' 

So  saying,  the  Emperor  touched  the  glasses  of  his  friends. 

"Now,  postillion,"  cried  he,  before  they  drank,  "bl(>w  us  a  blast  ou 
your  horn — a  right  merry  blast !" 

The  postillion  put  the  horn  to  his  lips,  and  while  he  hle\y  the  glasses 
clinked  gaily,  and  the  4>iends  laughed,  jested  and  ate  their  dinner  with 
a  relish  they  had  seldom  known  before.* 

*  Hubner ;  ^^ife  of  Joteph  II.  Vol,  1,  page  40. 


•2'2  JOSEPH  THE  BKCONIV 


CHAPTER    V. 

THE   SO>fNA!JBULIST. 

♦ 

The  policy,  instituted  by  Kaunitz,  when  he  became  sole  minister  of  the 
Empress,  had  now  culminated'  in  the  alliance  of  Austria  with  France, 
through  the  solemn  betrothal  of  the  childish  Maria  Antoinette  with  the 
Dauphin.  The  union  was  complete — it  was  to  be  qemented  by  the 
strong  tie  of  inter-marriage,  and  now,  that  sijccess  had  crowned  the 
schemes  to  which  she  had  yielded  such  hearty  consent,  Maria  Theresa 
was  anxious,  restless  and  unhappy.  Vainly  she  strove  to  thrust  from 
her  memory  the  prophecy  which  had  been  foretold  in  relation  to  the 
destinies  of  France.  With  anguish  she  remembered  the  cry  of  Marie 
Antoinette  ;  with  horror  she  recurred  to  the  vision  which  had  overcome 
Catharinfe  de  Medecis. 

"It  is  sinful  in  me,"  thought  the  Empress,  as  one  morning  she  left 
her  pillow  from  inability  to  sleep.  "God,  alone,  is  Lord  of  futurity, 
and  no  human  hand  dare  lift  it^. black  curtain! ''  But  stay!  cried  she, 
suddenly  springing  up,  and  in  her  eager  haste,  beglnnilig  to  dress  with- 
out assistance.  "  There  is  in  Vienna  a  holy  nun,,  w*ho  is  said  to  be  a 
prophetess,  and  Father  Gassner,  to  whom  I  have  extended  protection,  ho 
too,  is  said  at  times  to  enjoy  the  privilege  of  God's  prophets  of  old. 
Perhaps  they  have  been  sent  in  mercy  to  warn  us,  lest  in  our  ignorance 
of  consequences,  we  stumble  and  sin." 

For  some  time  the  EmpressT  walked  up  and  down  her  room,  undecided 
whether  to  turn  the  Sybilline  leaves  or  not.  It  might  be  sinful  to  ques- 
tion, it  might  be  fatal  to  remain  ignorant.  Was  it,  or  was  it  not  the  will 
of  God,  that  she  should  pry  into  the  great  mysteries  of  futurity  ?  Surely 
it  could  not  be  sinful,  else  why  should  He  have  given  to  His  servants 
the  gift  of  prophecy. 

"  I  will  go  to  the  Ursuline  nun,"  concluded  she,' "and  "Father  Gassner 
shall  come  to  me." 

She  rang  and  ordered  a  carriage  with  no  attendant  but  her  Urst  lady  of 
honor.  No  footmen,  no  out-riders,  but  a  simple  court  equipage  ;  "  and 
inform  Father  Gassner  that  in  one  hour  I  shall  await  him  in  the 
palace," 

In  less  than  half  an  hour  the  carriage  of  the  Empress  was  at  the  gate 
of  the  Ursuline  Convent.  Completely  disguised  in  a  long  black  cloak, 
with  her  face  hidden  under  a  thick  veil,  Maria  Theresa  leaped  eagerly  to 
the  ground. 

Her  attendant  was  about  to  follow,  but  the  Empress  motioned  her  to 
remain.    "  Await  me  )iere,"  said  she,   "  I  do  not  wish  to   be'  known  in 


the  convent.  I  ann  about  to  imitate  my  son,  and  visit  ray  silljecis 
incognito^ 

The  porteress,  who  had  recrgnizeJ  (be  imperial  liveries,  ma-ie  no  op- 
position to  the  entrance  cf  the  tall,  veiled  figure.  She  supposed  her  tr» 
be  some  lady  of  the  Empress's  household,  and  allowed  her  to  pass  at 
once  into  the  hall,  following  her  steps  with  uodi.^guised  curiosity. 

She  had  already  ascended  the  stair-case,  when  she  turned  to  the  por- 
teress. 

"In  which  cell  is  the  invalid  nun?"  asked  she. 

**  Your  Highness  means,  sister  Margaret,  the  somnambulist?"  asked 
the  porteress.  "She  has  been  taken  to  the  parlor  of  the  Abbess,  for 
the  convenience  of  the  many  who  visit  her  now." 

"  Docs  she  pretend  to  reveal  the  future?" 

"  It  would  make  your  Highness's  hair  stand  on  end  to  hear  her  !  She 
has  been  asleep  this  morning,  and  do  you  know  what  she  said  in  her  sleep  ? 
She  prophecied  that  the  convent  would  be  honored  by  a  visit  from  the 
Empress  on  this  very  day." 

"Did  she,  indeed  ?"  faltered  Maria  Theresa.  "When?*  ITow  Ion"- 
ago?"  .  ■      " 

"  About  two  hours  ago,  your. Highness.  And  as  she  ia  never  mis- 
taken, the  Abbess  has  prepared  all  things  for  her  Majesty's  reception. 
Doubtless  your  ladyship  has  been  sent  to  announce  her  V 

"You  really  feel  sure  that  she  will  come?" 

"  Certainly.  Sister  iMargaret's  visions  are  prophetic — we  cannot  doubt 
them." 

The  Empresj  shuddered  and  drew  her  cloak  close  around  her.  "  Gra- 
cious heaven,"  thought  she.  "  What  if  she  should  prophecy  evil  for 
my  child  ?"     "  It  is  well,"  added  she,  aloud,  "  where  shall  I  find  her  J" 

"  Your  Highness  has  only  to  turn  to  the  left ;  the  last  door  leads  into 
the  parlor  of  the  Abbess." 

A  deep  silence  reigned  throughout  the  convent.  .  The  Empress  went 
ou  through  the  dim^  long  corridor,  pow  with  hurried  step  and  wildly 
beatiug  heart,  now  suddenly  pausing,  fiintand  irresolute,  to  lean  against 
a  pillar,  and  gather  courage  for  the  interview.  As  she  turned  the  corner 
of  the  corridor,  a  flood  of  light,  streaming  through  an  oriel  window,  re- 
vived and  cheered  her.  She  stepped  forward  and  looked.  The  window, 
opened  upon  the  chapel,  where  the  lights  were  burning  upon  the  altar 
and  high  mass  was  about  to  begin,  for  sister  Margaret  had  said  that  the 
Empress  was  very  near.        i  ■'"■' 

"  'Tis  true.  They  are  waiting  for  me.  Oh,  she  must  be  a  prophetess, 
for,  two  hours  ago,  I  had  not  dreamed  of  coming  hither !  I  feel  my 
courage  fail  me.     I  will  go  back.     I  dare  not  hear,  for  it  is  too  late." 

The  Empress  turned  and  retraced  her  steps  ;  then  once  more  calling 
up  all  her  fortitude,  she  returned.  "  For,"  thoun;ht  she,  "  if  God  per- 
mits me.  to  sec,  why  should  I  remain  blind?  lie  it  is,  who  has  sent 
me  to  this  holy  propl^etess.     I  must  listen  for  my  Antoinette's  sake." 

A  second  time  she  went  forward,  reached,  the  parlor,  and  opened  th(? 


2i  J0,SEP1I  TliK  SECONJI. 

'loor.  She  had  scarcely  appeared  on  the  threshold,  cloaked  and  screened 
by  her  thick  black  veil,  when  a  clear  voice,  whose  tones  were  preter- 
human in  their  melody,  addressed  her.  "  Hail,  Empress  of  Austria ! 
All  hail  to  her,  who  cometh  hither  !" 

"  She  is  indeed  a  prophetess  !''  murmured  the  Empress.  "  She  kftows 

•  me  through  my  disguise." 

She  approached  the  bed  and  bent  over  it.  The  nun  lay  with  closed 
eyes  ;  but  a  heavenly  smile  was  upon  her  lips,  and  a  holy  light  seemed 
to  play  around  her  pale  but  beautiful  face.  Not  the  least  tinge  of  color 
was  on  her  cheeks;  and  but  for  the  tint  of  carmine  upon  her  lips,  she 
might  have  been  mistaken  for  a  sculptor's  dream  of  Azrael,  the  pale  an- 
gel of  death,  so  unearthly,  59  seraphic  M^as  her  beauty. 

While  the  Empress  gazed  awe-stricken,  the  Abbess  and  the  nuns  who 
had  been  kneeling  around  the  bed  arose  to  greet  their  Sovereign. 

"  Is  it  indeed  our  gracious  Empress  ?"  asked  the  Abbess.     Maria  The- 

•  resa  withdrew  her  hood  and  veil  and  revealed  her  pale,  agitated  face. 
•'  I  am  the  Empress,"'  said  she,  "  but  I  implore  you  let  there  be  no  more 
ceremony  because  of  my  visit.  In  this  sacred  habitation,  God  alone  is 
great,  and  }iis  creatures  are  all  equal  before  him.  We  are  in  the  pre- 
sence of  the  servant  to  whom  He  has  condescended  to  speak,  while  to 
the  sovereigns  of  earth  he  is  silent.    To  Him  alone  belongs  homage." 

■ — "Gracious  Empress,  sister  Margaret  had  announced  your  Majesty's 
visit,  and  we  were  to  have  greeted  you  as  becomes  Christian  subjects. 
The  chapel  is  prepared,  the  altar  is  decked." 

"  I  will  repair  later  to  the  church,  mother.  At  present^  my  visit  is  to 
sister  Margaret." 

'•  If  so,  your  Majesty  must  not  dela3\  She  sleeps  but  three  hours  at 
a  time,  and  she  will  soon  awake.  She  has  the  gift  of  prophecy  in  her 
sleep  alone."  ♦  * 

"  Then  go,  holy  mother,  and  leave  me  alone  with  her.  Go  and  await 
rae  in  the  church." 

The  Abbess  glanced  at  the  clock  on  the  wall.  ""  She  will  awake  in  ten 
minutes,"  said  she,  and  with  noiseless  steps  the  nuns  all  left  the  room. 

The  Empress  waited  until  the  door  was  closed  and  the  sound  of  their 
light  foot-fall  had  died  away,  then  again  approaching  the  bed,  she  called, 
"  sister  Margaret."       .  , 

,  The  nun  trembled  and  her  brow  grew  troubled.  "  Oh !"  said  she, 
"  the  angels  have  flown  !  Why  have  you  come  with  your*  sad  notes  of 
sorrow  to  silence  the  harmony  of  my  heavenly  dreams?" 

"  You  know  then  that  I  am  sad  ?"  asked  the  Empress. 

"Yes — your  heart  is  open  to  me.  I  see  your  anguish.  The  mother 
comes  to  me,  not  the  Empress." 

Maria  Theresa  feeling  herself  in  the  presence  of  a  supernatural  being, 
glided  down  upon  her  knees.     "You  are  right,"  said  she,  "  it  is  indeed  & 
sorrowing  mother  who  kneels  before  you,  imploring  you  in  the  humility 
*;Of  her  heart  to  say  what  God  hath  revealed  of  her  daughter's  fate  !" 

'*  Oh !"  cried  the  nun,  in  a  voice  of  anguish. 


tryiPERCiK  (A-   AUSTRIA.  'Jj 

But  the  Empress  went  on.  "My  soul  trembles  for  Marie  Antoin- 
ette. Something  seems  to  warn  me  not  to  trust  my  child  to  the  foul 
atmosphere  of  that  court  of  France,  where  Dubarry  sits  by  the  side  of 
the  King,  and  the  nobles  pay  her  homage  as  though  she  were  a  virtuous 
queefl.  Oh,  tell  me,  holy  sister,  what  will  become  of  my  Antoinette  in 
iprance  ?" 

"  Oh !  oh  !"  wailed  the  nun,  and  she  writhed  upon  her  bed.  " 

"  She  is  so  sweet,  so  pure,  so  innocent."  continued  the  Empress.  "My 
spotless  dove  !     Will  she  soil  her  wings  1     Oh,  sister,  speak  to  me  !" 

"Oh!"  cried  the  nun  for  the  third  time,  and  the  Empress  trembled, 
while  her  face  grew  white  as  that  of  the  prophetess. 

"I  am  on  my  knees,"  inurmured  she,  "and  lawait  your  answer.  Sis- 
ter Margaret !  sister  Margaret !  In  the  name  of  God,  who  has  endowed 
you  with  superhuman  wisdom,  tell  me  what  is  to  be  the  fate  of  Marie 
Antoinette  ?" 

.  "Thou  hast  called  on  the  name  of  God,"  said  the  nun  in  a  strange, 
clear  voice,  "and  I  am  forced  to  answer  thee.  Thou  wilt  know  the  fate 
of  Marie  Antoinette?  Hear  it:  '■She  will  live  through  much  evil,  but 
she  will  return  to  virtue.^  "* 

"She  will  then  cease  to  be  virtuous,"  cried  the  Empress,  bursting  in- 
to tears. 

"She  will  learn  much  evil."  repeated  the  nun,  turning  uneasily  on  her 

bed.     She  will  endure Poor  Marie  Antoinette  !     Unhappy  Queen  of 

France  !     Woe !  Woe  !"' 

"Woe  unto  me!"  cried  the  wretched  mother.  "Woe  unto  her  who 
leadeth  her  children  into  temptation  !" 

"  She  will  return  to  virtue  !"  murmured  the  nun  indistinctly.  "  Poor 
Queen — of — France  !"  ' 

With  a  loud  cry  she  threw  out  her  arms  and  sat  upright  in  the  bed. 
Her  eyes  opened,  and  she  looked  around  the  room. 

"  Where  is  the  reverend  mother?"  cried  she.  "  Where  are  the  sis- 
ters ?" 

Suddenly  her  eyes  rested  upon  the  black  and  veiled  figUre  of  the  Em- 
press. 

"  Who  are  you  !"  exclaimed  she.-  "  Away  with  you,  black  shadow  ! 
I  am  not  yet  dead  !  Not  yet  I  Oh,  this  pain,  this  pain  !"  And  the 
nun  fell  back  upon  her  pillow. 

Maria  Theresa  rose  from  her  knees,  and,  wild  with  terror,  fled  from 
the  room.  Away  she  sped  through  the  long,  dark  corridor  to  the  win- 
<3ow  that  overlooked  t+ie  chapel,  where  the  nuns  were  awaiting  her  re- 
turn— away  down  the  wide  stone  staircase,  through  the  hall,  out  into  the 
open  air.  She  hurried  into  the  carriage  and,  once  seated,  fell  back  upon 
the  cushions  and  wept  aloud. 

♦  SflTinbume;  vol.  1,  page  851. 


2tj  JO^iEPH  THE  a£GOi\i/. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE  PKOPHECy. 

The  Empress  spoke  not  a  word  during  the  drive  to  the  palace.  She 
<was  so  absorbed  hi  her  sorrow  as  to  be  unconscious  of  the  presence  of 
another  person,  and  she  wept  without  restraint  until  the  carriage  stopped. 
Then,  stifling  her  sobs  and  hastily  drying  her  tears,  she  dropped  her 
veil  and  wall^ed  with  her  usual  majestic  gait  through  the  palace  halls 
In  her  ante-roorn  she  met  a  gentleman  in  waiting,  coming  towards  her. 

"  Father  Gassner,  your  Majesty." 

"  Where  is  he  ?" 

"  Here,  so  please  your  Majesty." 

"  Let  him  follow  me  in  my  cabinet,"  said  the  Empress,  going  forward, 
while  the  courtier  and  the  priest  came  behind.  When  she  reached  the 
door  of  her  cabinet  she  turned.  "  Wait  here,"  said  she.  "  When  I  ring, 
I  beg  of  you  to  enter,  Father.  The  Count  will  await  your  return  in 
this  room. 

She  entered  her  cabinet  and  closed-  the  door.  Once  more  alone,  she 
gave  vent  to  her  sorrow.  She  wept  aloud  and  in  her  ears  she  seemed 
to  hear  the  clear  metallic  voice  of  the  sick  nun  pealing  out  those  dread- 
ful words  :  "  She  ivill  live  throuyh  much  evil^  but  will  return  to  virtue  P^ 

But  Maria  Theresa  was  no  coward.  She  was  determined  to  master 
her  credulity. 

"  I  am  a  simpleton,"  thought  she.  "I  must  forget  the  dreams  of  a 
delirious  nun.  How  could  I  be  so  weak  as  to  imagine  that  God  would 
permit  a  hysterical  invalid  to  prophecy  to  a  sound  apd  strong  woman 
like  mysein  Twill  speak  with  Father  Gassner.  Perhaps  he  may  see 
the  future  differently.  If  he  does,  I  shall  know  that  they  are  both  false 
prophets,  and  their  prophecies,  I  shall  throw  to  the  winds." 

Strengthened  by  these  reflections,  the  Empress  touched  her  bell.  The 
<3oor  opened,  and  Father  Gassner  entered  the  room.  He  bowed,  and 
then  drawing  his  tall,  majestic  figure  to  its  full  height,  he  remained 
standing  by  the  door,  with  his  large,  d*rk-blue  eyes  fixed  upon  the  face 
•of  the  Empress.  She  returned  the  glance.  There  seemed  to  be  a  strife 
between  the  eyes  of  the  sovereign,  who  was  accustomed  to  see  others 
bend  before  her,  {ind  those  of  the  inspired  man,  whose  intercourse  was 
with  the  Lord  of  lords  and  the  King  of  kings.  Each  met  the  other  with 
dignity  and  composure. 

Suddenly  the  Empress  strode  haughtily  up  to  the  priest  and  said,  in  a 
tone  that  sounded  almost  defiant. 

"  Father  Gassner,  have  you  the  courage  to  look  me  in  the  face  and 
assert  yourself  to  be  a  prophet?"  ^ 


'*  It  requires  no  courage  to  avow  a  gift,  which  Gou,  in  the  superabun- 
dance  of  His  goodnoss,  has  bestowed  upon  one  who  does  not  deserve  it," 
replied  the  Father,  gently.  "  If  my  eyes  are  opened  to  see,  or  my  hand 
to  beal,  glory  be  to  God,  Who  has  blessed  them.  The  light,  the  grace, 
are  not  mine,  why  should  [  deny  my  Lord.* 

"Then  if  I  question  you,  as  to  the.  future,  you  will  answer  ?" 

"  If  it  is  given  to  me  to  do  so,  1  will  answer." 

"Tell  me,  then,  whether  Antoinette  will  be  happy  in  her  marriagel '' 

The  priest  turned  pale,  but  he  said  nothing. 

•'Speak,  Bpeak,  or  I  will  denounce  you  as  a  false  prophet." 

"  Is  this  the  only  thing  your  Majesty  has  to  ask  of  mef 

"The  only  one." 

"Then  denounce  me,  for  I  cannot  answer  your  Majesty." 

Gassner  turned,  and  his  hand  was  upon  the  lock,  of  the  door. 

"Stay!"  cried  the  Empress,  haughtily,  i' I  command  you,  as  your 
sovereign,  to  speak  the  truth." 

"  The  truth  I"  cried  Gassner,  in  a  voice  of  atiguish,  and  his  large  eyes 
opened  with  an  expression  of  horror.  What  did  he  see  with  those  eves 
that  seemed  to  look  fiw  out  into  the  dim  aisles  of  the  terrible /uture  1 

"The  truth!"  echoed  the  unhappy  mother.  "Tell  me,  will  my  An- 
toinette be  happy  ?" 

Deep  sighs  convulsed  the  breast  of  the  priest,  and  with  a  look  of  in- 
expressible  agony,  he  answered,  solemnly,   "  Empress  of  Austria,  we 

HAVE    ALL  OUK    CROSS    TO  BEAK."f 

The  Empress  started  back  with  a  cry. 

"Again!  again!"  murmured  she,  burying  her  face' in  her  hands. 
But  suddenly  coming  forward,  her  eyes  flaming  like  those  of  an  angry 
lioness,  she  said,  "what  mean  these  riddles'?  Speak  out  at  once,  and  tell 
me  without  equivocation,  what  is  to  be  the  fate  of  Antoinette!" 

"  We  have  all  our  cross  to  bear,"  repeated  the  priest,  "  and  the 
Queen  of  France  will  surely  have  hers."  VVith  these  words  the  priest 
turned  and  left  the  room. 

Pale  and  rigid,  the  Empress  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  mur- 
muring to  herself  the  two  fearful  prophecies.  "  She  will  live  through 
much  evil,  but  will  return  to  virtue."  "  We  have  all  our  cross  to  bear, 
and  the  Queen  of  France  will  surely  bear  hers." 

For  awhile  Maria  Theresa  was  overwhelmed  by  the  double  blow  she 
had  received.  But  it  was  not  in  her  nature  to  succumb  to  circumstances. 
She  must  overrule  them. 

She  rang  her  bell,  and  a  page  entered  the  room.  "Let  a  messenger 
be  dispatched  to  Prince  Kaunitz,  I  wish  to  see  jifs  Highness.  He  can. 
come  to  me  unannounced." 


*  Father  Gassner  was  one  of  thn  mo?t  remarlcable  thaumaturpists  of  the  eighteenth  century.  He 
healed  nil  sorts  of  diseases  by  the  touch  of  his  hand,  and  multitudes  flocked  to  him  for  cure.  Hit 
extraordinary  powers  displeased  tl\e  Bishop  of  his  Diocese,  and,  to  avoid  censure,  Fnther  Gnssnpr. 
aousrht  protection  from  the  Empress,  who  luld  him  in  great  reverence  Hi.'-  prediction  coMccrniiie 
the.  faie  of  Marie  Antoinptte,  was  generatlv  known  long  before  its  nccoinplisUment.  It  was  rclaiea, 
to  Madam  Campan,  by  a  sou  of  Kaunitz,  years  before  tho  fiovolulion. 

t  Mtmoire*  ae  Madame  Campan  :  Vol,  ?,  psf^*  14. 


26  JOSEPH    JML  ShOuMk 

Not   long   after,  the  Prince  made  his   appe&raiice.     A  short,  sharp 
glance  at  the  agitated  mien  of  the  Empress,  showed  J;o  the  experienced 
diplomatist  that  to-day,  as  so  often  before,  he  must  oppose  the  shield  of 
indifference' to  the  storm  of  passion  with  which  he  was  about  to  contend. 

"  Your  Majesty,"  said  lie,  "  has  sent  for  me  just  as  I  was  about  to  re- 
quest an  audience.  I  am  in  receipt  of  letters  from  the  'Emperor.  He 
has  spent  a  day  with  the  King  of  Prussia." 
'  He  attempted  to  give  the  letters  into  the  hands  of  the  Empress,  but 
she  put  them  back  with  a  gesture  of  impatience.  "  Prince  Kaunitz,"  said 
sshe,  "it  is  you  who  have  done  this — you  must  undo  it.  It  cannot, 
shall  not  be." 

"  What  does  your  Majesty  mean?"  asked  Kaunitz,  astonished. 

"  I  speak  of  that  which  lies  nearest  my  heart,"  said  the  Empress, 
•warmly. 

"  Of  the  meeting  of  the  Emperor  with  the  King  of  Prussia,'' returned 
Kaunitz,  quietly.  '•  Yesterday  they  met  at  Neisse.  It  was  a  glorious  in- 
terview.   The  two  monarchs  embraced,  and  the  iimperor  remarked " 

"  Enough,  enough,''  cried  Maria  Theresa,  impatientiy.  You  affect  to 
misunderstand  me.  I  speak  of  Ant'>inette's  engagement  to  the  Dau- 
phin.    It  must  be  broken.     My  daughter  shall  not  go  to  France." 

Kaunitz  was  so  completely  astounded,  so  sincereli/ astounded,  that  he 
was  speechless. .  The  paint  upon  his  face  could  not  conceal  the  angry 
flush  that  colored  it,  nor  his  pet  locks  cover  the  wrinkles  that  rose  up  to 
disfigure  his  forehead. 

"  Do  not  stare  at  me  as  if  you  thought  I  was  parting  with  my  senses," 
cried  the  Empress.  "  I  know  very  well  what  I  say.  I  will  not  turn  my 
innocent  Antoinette  into  that  den  of  corruption.  She  shall  not  bear  a 
cross  from  which  it  is  in  my  power  to  save  her." 

i  "  Who  speaks  of  crosses'?"  asked  Kaunitz,  bewildered.  "The  only 
thing  of  which  I  have  heard,  is  a  royal  crown  wherewith  her  brow  is  to 
be  decked." 

"She  shall  not  wear  that  crown  !"  exclaimed  Maria  Theresa.  "  God, 
himself,  has  warned  me  through  the  lips  of  His  prophets,  and  not  un- 
heeded shall  the  warning  fall." 

Kaunitz  breathed  more  freely,  and  his  features  resumed  their  wonted 
calmness.  " If  that  is  all,"  thought  he,  gaily,  "I  shall  be  victorious. 
An  ebullition  of  superstition  is  easily  quieted  by»a  little  good  news. 
"Your  Majesty  has  been  following  the  new  fashion,"  said  he  aloud,  "you 
have  been  consulting  the  fortune-tellers.  I  presume  you  have  visited 
the  nun  who  is  subject  to  pious  hysterics,  and  Father  Gassner,  I  see,  has 
been  visiting  your  Majesty  ;  for  I  met  him  as  I  was  coming  to  the 
palace.    I  could  not  help  laughing  as  I  saw  his  absurd  length  of  visage." 

Maria  Theresa,  in  reply  to  this  irony,  related  the  answers  which  had 
been  made  to  her  questions.  Kaunitz  listened  with  sublime  indifference, 
and  evinced  not  a  spark  of  sympathy.  When  the  Empress  had  con- 
cluded her  story,  he  merely  said,  "  what  else,  your  Majesty  *?" 

"  What«lse,"  echoed  the  Emprs-^s,  surprised. 


EMPKllOR  OF  AUSTMIA.  *29 

*'  Yes,  your  Majesty.  Surely  there  must  be  something  more  than  a 
pair  of  vague  sentences,  a  pair  of  '  ohs '  and  '  ahs,'  and  asick  niin  and  a 
silly  priest.  These  insignificant  nothings  are  certainly  not  enough  to 
overturn  the  structure,  which  for  ten  years,  we  have  employed  all  our 
skill  to  build  up," 

"1  well  know  that  you  are  an  infidel  and  an  unbeliever,  Kaunitz," 
cried  the  Empress,  vexed  at  the  quiet  sneers  of  her  minister.  "I  know 
you  believe  that  only  which  you  can  uiiderstand  and  explain."       , 

"No,  your  Majesty,  1  believe  all  that  is  reasonable.  What  I  cannot 
comprehend  is  unreasonable."' 

The  Empress  glanced  angrily  at  his  stony  countenance.  *'  God, 
sometimes,  speaks  to  us  through  the  mouths  of  his  chosen  ones,"  cried 
she,  "and,  as  I  believe  in  the  inspiration  of  sist(^Maigaret  and  Father 
Gassner,  my  daughter  shall  not  go  to  France."  ^ 

—  "  Is  that  your  Majesty's  unalterable  resolution  ?" 

—  "It  is." 

"  Then,"  returned  Kaunitz,  bowing,  "  allow  me  to  make  a  request  for 
EQyseH." 

—  "  Speak  on." 

"  Allow  me  at  once  to  retire  from  your  Majesty's  service." 

"  Kaunitz  !"  exclaimed  Maria  Theresa,  "  is  it  possible  that  you  would 
forsake  me  ]" 

"  No,  your  Majesty  ;  it  is  you  who  forsakes  me.  You  are  willing, 
for  the  sake  of  two  crazy  seers,  to  destroy  the  fabric,  which  it  has  been 
the  work  of  my  life  to  construct.  Your  Majesty  desires  that  /should 
remain  your  minister,  and  with  my  own  hand  should  undo  the  web  that 
I  have  woven  with  such  trouble  to  myself?  All  Europe  knows  that 
the  French  alliance  is  my  work.  To  this  end  I  have  labored  by  day 
and  lain  awake  by  night — to  this  end  I  have  flattered  and  bribed — to 
this  end  I  have  seen  my  friend,  De  Choiseul,  disgraced,  while  I  bowed 
low  before  his  miserable  successor,  that  I  might  win  him  and  that 
•wretched  Dubarry  to  my  purpose  !" 

"You  ari  irretrievably  bent  upon  this  alliance?"  asked  the  Empress 
thoughtfully.  "  It  was  then  not  to  gratify  me  that  you  sought  to  place 
a  crown  upon  my  dear  child's  head  ?" 

—  "Your  Majesty's  wishes  have  always  been  sacred  to  me,  but  I 
should  never  have  sought  to  gratify  them  had  they  not  been  in  accordance 
■with  my, sense  of  duty  to  Austria.  I  have  not  sought  to  make  a  Queen 
of  the  Archduchess  Maria  Antoinette.  I  have  sought  to  unite  Austria 
with  France,  and  to  strengthen  the  south-western  powers  of  Europe 
against  the  infidelity  and  barbarism  of  Prussia  and  Russia.  In  spite 
of  all  that  is  taking  place  at  Neisse,  Austria  and  Prussia  are,  and 
ever  will  be,  enemies.  The  King  and  the  Emperor  may  flatter  and 
smile  but  neither  believes  what  the  other  says.  Frederic  will  never  lose 
an  opportunity  of  robbing.  He  ogles  Russia,  and  would  gladly  see  her 
our  '  neighbor  '  if  by  so  doing,  he  were  to  gain  an  insignificant  province 
for  Prussia.     It  is  to  ward  off  these  dangoroua  accomplices  that  wo  seek 


30  JOSEPH  TEE  SECOND. 

alliance  wltb  France,  and  through  France,  with  Spain,  Portugal  and 
Italy.  And  now,  when  (he  goal  is  won  and  ihe  prize  is  ours,  your 
Majesty  retracts/her  imperial  word  I  You  are  the  sovereign,  and  your 
will  must  be  done.  But  I  cannot  lend  my  hand  to  that  which  my  reason 
condemns  as  unwise,  and  ray  conscience  as  dishonorable.  I  beg  of  your 
Majesty  td^ay  and  forever,  to  dismiss  me  from  your  service!" 

The  Empress  did  nob  make  any  reply.  She  had  risen  and  was  walk- 
iHg  hastily  up  and  down,  murmuring  low,  inartieiilate  words,  and  heaving 
deep,  convulsive  sighs.  Kautiitz  followed  her  with  the  eye  of  a  cool 
ph}sician,  who  watches  the  crisis  of  a  brain-fever.  He  looked  down, 
however,  as' the  Empress,  stopping,  raised  her  dark,  glowing  eyes  to  his. 
When  he  met  her  glance  his  expression  had  changed,  it  had  become  as 
•usual.  ^ 

"  You  have  heard  The  pleadings  of  the  mother,"  said  she,  breathing 
hard, '-and  you  have  silenced  them  with  your  cold  arguments.  The 
Empress  has  heard,  and  she  it  is,  who  must  decide  against  herself.  She 
has  no  right  to  sacrifice  her  empire  to  her  maternity.  May  God  forgive 
me,"  continued  she,  solemnly  clasping  her  hands,  "  if  I  err  in  quelling 
the  voice  of  my  love  which  cries  so  loudly  fagainst  this  union.  Let  it 
be  accomplished,  Maria  Antoinette  shall  be  the  bride  of  Louis  XVI." 

"  Spoken  like  the  noble  Empress  of  Austria,!'  cried  Kaunitz  triumph- 
antly.    • 

"  Do  not  praise  me,"  returned  Maria  Theresa,  sadly;  "  but  hear  what 
I  have  to  say.  You  have  spoken  words  so  bold  that  it  would  seem 
you  fancy  yourself  ^to  be  Emperor  of  Austria.  It  was  not  you  \\'ho 
sought  alliance  with  France,  but  myself  You  di,d  nothing  but  follow 
out  my  intentions  and  obey  my  commands.  The  sin  of  my  refusal, 
therefore,  was  nothing  to  you  or  your  conscience — it  rested  on  my  head 
alone." 

"  May  God  preserve  your  Majesty  to  your  country  and  your  subjects. 

May  you  long  be  Austiia's  head,  and  I your  ri^ht  hand,"  exclaimed 

Kaunitz. 

"  You  do  not  then  wish  to  retire  ?"  asked  she  with  a  languid  smile. 

"  I  beg  of  your  Majesty  to  forgive  and  retain  jne." 

"So  be  it,  then,"  returned  the  Empress,  with  a  light  inclination  of 
the  head.  "  But  I  cannot  hear  any  more  to-day.  You  have  no  sympa- 
thy with  my  trials  as  a  mother.  I  have  sacrificed  my  child  to  Austria, 
but  my  heart  is  pierced  with  sorrOw  and  apprehension.  Leave  me  to  my- 
tears.  I  cannot  feel  for  any  one  except  my  child — my  poor,  innocent 
child." 

She  turned  hastily  away  that  he  might  not  see  the  tears  which  were 
already  streaming  down  her  face.  Kaunitz  bowed,  and  left  the  cabinet; 
with  his  usual  cold,  proud  step. 

The  minister  o^ce  gone,  Maria  Theresa  gave  herself  up  to  the  wildest 
grief.  No  one  saw  her  anguish  but  God — no  one  ever  knew  how  the 
powerful  Empress  wrkhed  and  wrung  her  hands  in  her  powerless  agony. 
No  one  but  God  and  the  Emperor,  whose  mild  eyes  beamed  compassion, 


EMPEROR  or  AUSTRIA.  3t 

from  the  gilt  fr.Tme  in  which  his  picture  hung,  vpon  the  wall.  To  this 
picture,  Maria  Theresa  at  last  raised  h^r  eyes,  and  it  seemed,  to  her  ev- 
citt'd  imagination,  that  her  husband  smiled  and  whispered  words  of  con- 
solation. 

"  Yes,  dear  Franz,  I  hear  you,"  said  she.  "Ycu  would  remind  me 
that  this  is  our  wedding-day.  Alas,  I  know  it  I  Once,  a  davofjov 
,  and  from  this  moment  the  anniversary  of  a  great  sorrow  !  Franz,  it  is 
our  child  that  is  iho  victim  !  The  sweet  Antoinette,  whose  eves  are  so 
like  her  father's!  Oh,  dear  husband,  my  he«it  is  heavy  with  griefs 
Why  may  1  not  go  to  rest  tool  But  thou  will  not  love  me  if  my  cour- 
age fiiil.  I  will  be  brave  Franz ;  I  will  work,  and  try  to  do.mv  duly." 
She  approached  her  writing  table,  and  began  to  overlook  the  heaps  of 
papers  that  awaited  her  inspection  and  signatnre,  Grndually  her  brow 
cleared  and  her  face  resumed  its  usual  expression  of  deep  thought  and 
high  resolve.  The  mother  forgot  her  g^ief,  and  the  Empress  was  ab- 
sorbed in  the  cares  of  State. 

She  felt  so  strongly  the  comfort  and  sustenance  derived  from  labor, 
that  on  that  day  she  dined  alone,  and  returned  immediately  to  her  writ- 
ing-desk. Twilight  came  on,  and  still  the  Empress  was  al  work.  F'inallv 
the  rolling  of  carriages  towards  tlie  imperial  theatre  was  heard,  and 
presently,  the  shouts  of  the  applauding  audience.  The  Empress  heard 
nothing.  She  had  never  attended  the  theatre  since  her  husband's  death, 
and  it  \vas  nothing  to  her  tkat  to-night  Lessing's  beautiful  drama, 
"  Emilia  Galotti,"  was  being  represented  for  the  fhst  time  in  Vienna. 

Twilight  deepened  into  night  and  the  Empre^^s  rang  for  lights.  Then 
retiring  to  her  dressing-room,  she  threw  off  her  heiivy  court  costume, 
and  exchanged  it  for  a  simple  j^eignoir^  in  which  she  returned  to  her 
cabinet  and  still  wrote  on. 

Suddenly  the  stillness  was  broken  by  a  knoQk,  and  a  page  entered  with 
a  golden  salver,  on  which  lay  a  letter. 

"  A  courier  from  Florence,  your  Majesty,"  said  he. 
Maria  Theresa  took  the  letter  and  dismissed  the  page.     "From  my 
Leopold,"  said  she,  while  she  opened   it.     "It  is  an  extra-courier.     It 
must  announce   the  accouchement  of  his  wife.     Oh,  my  heart,  how  it 
beats!" 

With  trembling  hands  she  held  the  missive  and  read  it.  But  at  once 
her  face  was  lighted  up  with  joy,  and  throwing  herself  upon  her  knees 
befgre  the  portrait  of  the  Emperor,  she  said,  "Franz,  Leopold  has  given 
us  a  grand-son.     Do  you  hear"?" 

No  answer  came  in  response  to  the  joyful  cry  of  the  Empress,  and 
she  could  not  bear  the  burthen  of  her  joy  alooe.  Some  one  must  rejoice 
with  her.     She  craved  sympathy,  and  she  must»go  out  to  seek  it. 

She  left  her  cabinet.     Unmindful  of  her  dress,  she   sped   through  the 
long  corridors,  farther  and  still  farther,  down  the  staircase  and  away  to 
the  extremest  end  of  the  palace,  until  she  reached  the  imperial   thoitre. 
That  night  it  was  crowrled.     The  interest  of  the  spectators  had  deep- 
ened as  tho  play  wont  on.    They  were  absorb«cd  in  the  scene   between 


32  JOaEPH  THE  SECOND. 

Emilia  and  her  father,  -when  a  door  was  heard  to  open  and  to  shut. 

Suddenly  in  the  iniperidl  box,  which  had  so  long  been  empty,  a  tall 
and  noble  Hgure  bent  Ibrward,  lur  over  the  railing,  and  a  clear,  musical 
voice  cried  out : 

"  Leopold  has  a  son  !" 

The  audience,  as  if  electrified,  rose  with  one  accord,  from  their  seats. 
All  turned  towards  the  imperial  box.  Each  one  had  recognized  the 
voice  of  the  adored  Maria  Theresa,  and  every, heart  overflowed  with  the 
joy  of  the  moment.  >, 

The  Empress  repeated  her. words  : 

"  Leopold  has  a  son,  and  it  is  born  on  my  wedding-day.  Wish  me 
joy,  dear  friends,  of  my  grand-son  !" 

Then  arose  such  a  storm  of  congratulations  as  never  before  had  been 
heard  within  those  theatre  walls.  The  women  wept,  and  the  men  waived 
their  hats  and  cheered,  while  all,  with  one  voice,  cried  out,  "  Long  live 
Maiia  Theresa!     Long  live  the  imperial  grand-mother !" 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE    GIFT. 

y 

All  prophecies  defying,  Maria  Theresa  had  given  her  daughter  to 
France.  In  the  month  of  ^lay  1770,  the  Archduchess,  Maria  Antoinette, 
vras  married  by  proxy  in  Vienna;  and  amid  the  ringing  of  bells,  the 
booming  of  cannon,  and  the  shouts  of  the  populace,  the  beautiful  young 
Dauphiness  left  Austria  to  meet  her  inevitable  fate. 

Meanwhile,  in  the  imperial  palace  too,  one  room  was  darkening  under 
the  shadow  of  approaching  death.  It  was  that  in  which  Isabella's 
•daughter  was  passing  from  earth  to  heaven. 

The  Emperor  knew  that  his  child  was  dying  ;  and  many  an  hour  he 
spent  at  her  solitary  bedside,  where  tranquil  and  smiling,  she  murmured 
words  which  her  father  knew  were  whispered  to  the  angels. 

The  Emperor  sorrowed  deeply  for  the  severance  of  the  last  ticthat 
bound  him  to  the  bright  and  beautiful  dream  of  his  early  married  life. 
But  he  was  so  accustomed  to  sorrow,  that  on  the  occasion  of  his  sister's 
marriage,  he  had  gone  through  the  forms  required  by  etiquette,  without 
any  visible  emotion. 

But  the  festivities  were  at  an  end.  ,The  future  Queen  of  France  had 
bidden  farewell  to  her  native  Vienna,  and  the  marriage-guests  had  de- 
parted ;  while  darker  and  darker  grew  the  chaniber  of  the  dying  child, 
and  sadder  the  fate  of  the  widowed  father.    The  Eoiperor  kissed    his 


EJIPEROJl  OF  AUSTRIA,  :V,l 

daughter's  burning  forehead,  and  held  her  little  transparent  hand  in  his. 
"Farewell,  my  angcl,"  whispered  he,  "since  thymother  calls  thee,  go, 
my  little  Theresa.  Tell  her  that  she  was  my  only  love — rny  first  and 
last.    Go,  beloved,  and  pray  for  thy  unhappy  father." 

Once  more  he  kissed  her,  and  when  he  raised  his  head,  her  face  was 
moistened  with  his  tears.     He  turned  hastily  away  and  left  the  room. 

"  And  now,"  thought  he,  "  to  my  duty.     I  must  forget  my  own  sor- 
rows that  "I  may  wipe  away  the  tears  of  my  sorrowing  peoph.     There  , 
is  so  much  grief  and   want   in    Austria!     Oh,  my  child,  my  little  one  ! 
Araid  the  blessings  of  the   suffering   poor,  shalt  thou  stretch  forth  thy 
wings  and  take  thy  flight  to  heaven  !" 

He  was  on  his  way  to  seek  an  audience  of  his  mother.  Maria  Theresa 
was  ia  her  cabinet,  and  was  somewhat  surprised  to  see  her  son  at  this 
unusual  hour  of  the  day. 

"I  come  to  your  Majesty  to  beg  a  boon,"  said  Joseph,  with  a.sad 
smile.  "  Yesterday  you  were  distributing  Antoirette/s  wedding- 
gifts  to  your  children ;  I  alone  received  nothing.  Is  thei'e  nothing 
for  me  ?" 

"  Nothing  for  you,  my  son  !"  exclaimed  Maria  Theresa,  astonished. 
"  Why,  everything  is  yours,  and  therefore,  I  have  nothing  to  give. 
Where  your  right  is  indisputable,  my  presents  are  superfluous." 

"  Yes,  mother ;  but  it  does  not  become  one  so  generous  as  you,  to  let 
her  eldest  son  wait  for  an  inheritance,  when  she  might  make  him  a  hand- 
some present  of  her  own  free  will.  Be  generous,  then,  and  give  me 
fjomething,  too.     I  wish  to  be  on  an  equality  with  the  other  children." 

"  Well,  then,  you  grown-up  child,  what  will  you  have?"  asked  tho 
Empress,  laughing.  "  Of  course  you  have  already  ohosen  your  gift, 
and  it  is  mere  gallantry  on  your  part  to  beg  for  what  you  might  take 
without  leave.  But  let  us  hear.  What  is  it?  You  have  only  to  ask 
and  have." 

—  "  Indeed  !     May  I  choosehny  wedding-gifr "." 

—  "Yes,  you  imperial  beggar,  you  may." 

"  Well,  then,  give  me  the  government  claims  upon  the  four  lower 
classes." 

Tlie  Empress  looked  aghast.  "Is  it  money  you  elesire?"  said  slie. 
"  Say  how  much,  and  you  shall  have  it  from  my  private  purse.  But  do 
not  rob  the  poor !  The  claim  that  you  covet  is  the  tax  levied  upon  all 
the  working  classes,  and  you  know  how  numerous  they  are." 

"  For  that  very  reason,  I  want  it.  It  is  a  princely  gift.  Shall  I  have 
it?" 

The  Empress  reflected  for  a  few  moments.    *'  I  know,"  said  she,  look 
ing  up  with  one  of  her  sweetest  smiles,  ''  I  know  that  you  will  not  nii« 
use  your  power;  for  I   remember   the  fate  of  your  father's  legacy,  the 
three  millions  of  coupons.     You  shall  have  the  claim,  my  son.     It  is 
yours." 

"  Will  your  Majesty  draw  out  the  deed  of  gift  ?' 

"  I  will,  my  sou.  It  is  yotir  wedding-gifl  from  our  darling  AnLoinetto, 


S  4  J  OSEPLlr.  TH^  ti£COiS'  D. 

But  you  will  acquaint  me,- from  time  to  time,  with  the  use  ypu  are 
making  Of  your  power  over  the  poor  classes  1" 

•'1  will  render  my  account  to  }our  Aiajesty.  But  first  draw  out  the 
deed." 

The  Empress  stepped  to  her  escritoire  and  wrote  a  few  lines,  to  which 
s!ie  affixed  the  imperial  signature  and  seal. 

'•There  it  is,"  said  she.  "I  bestow  upon  my  son,  the  Empe,ror,  all 
the  government-claims  to  the  impost  levied  upon  the  four  lower  classes. 
"Will  that  do  r'  , 

— "  It  will,  and  from  my  heart  I  thank  my  dear  mother  for  the  gra- 
clous  'gift." 

He  took  the  hand  of  the  Empress  to  kiss  it,  but  she  held  his,  fiist  in 
her  gra?pj  and  looked  at  him  with  im  expression  of  tenderness  and  anx- 
iety., 

"You  are  pale,  my  son,"  said  she,  affectionately.  "I  see  that  your 
heart  is  sad." 

"  kxxdi  yet !"  "replied  Joseph,  with  quivering  lip,  "  I  should  rejoice,  for 
lam  about  to  have  an  angel  in  heaven.". 

"Poor  little  Theresa,"  murmured  the  Empress,  while  the  tears  rose 
to  her  eyes.  "  She  has  never  been  a  healtiiy  child.  Isabella  calls  her 
hence." 

"Yes,"  replied  ^Joseph,  bitterly;  "She  calls  my  child  awa.y,  that  she 
may  break  the  last  link  that  bound  her  to  me," 

"  We  must  believe,  my  child,  that  it  is  for  the  bpst.  The  will  of  God, 
however  painful  its  manifestations,  is  holy,  wise,  and  merciful.  Isabella 
declared  to  us  that  she  would  call  the  child  when  it  had  reached  its 
seventh  year.  She  .goes  to  her  mother,  and  now  this  bitter  dream,  of 
your  early  love,  is  past.  Perhaps  your  heart  may  awaken  once  more  to 
iove.  There  are  many  beautiful  princesses  in  Europe,  and  not  one  of 
them  would  refuse  the  hand  of  the  Emperor  of  Austria.  It  is  for  you 
to  choose,  aiid  no  one  shall  dictate  your  choice." 

'•  Would  your  Majesty  convert  me  into  a  Bluebeard?"  cried  Joseph, 
coloring.  '•  Do  you  not  see  that  I  murder  my  wives'?  Enough,  that 
two  of  them  are  buried  in  the  Chapel  of  the  Capuchins,  and  that  to-mor- 
row, perhaps,  my  child  will  join  them.  Leopold  has  given  an  heir  to 
my  throne,  and  I  am  sati^^lied." 

"  Why  do  you  talk  of  ri  successor,  my  son  1"  said  the  Empress,  "  you 
who  ave  so  young  V 

••  Your  Majesty,  I  am  old,"  replied  Joseph,  mournfully.  "  So  old  that 
I  have  no  hope  of  happiness  on  earth.  You  see  that  to-day,  when  you 
have  been  so  gracious,  I  am  too  wretched  to  do  ought  but  t..ank  you  for 
your  splendid  gift.  Let  me  retire  then  to  my  unhappy  soliiud*^,  I  am 
not  fit  to  look  upon  your  sweet  and  honored  countenance.  I  must  exile 
myself  until  my  trial  is  past." 

He  left  the  room,  and  hastening  to  his  cabinet,  "  now,"  exclaimed  he, 
"now .for  my  mother's  gift." 

lie  sat  down  and  wrote  as  follo^^? : 


EMPEROR  OF  AUSTRIA.  35 

"Mv  Dear  Prince  Kaunitz-Bj  the  enclosed  vou  will  see  that  the 
Empress,  my  mother,  has  presented  me  %vith  all  the  covernrrtent  claims 
upon  Ll,e  working  classes.  Will  you  make  immediate  arranTemcn  "o 
acquaint  the  collectors  with  the  following  •  'Arrangements  to 

'  No  tax  shall  be  collected  from  the  working-classes  during  the  remain- 
dor  of  my  life.  -r  ,  ,!!l 

■^  JosEPn.  "* 

« Now,"  thonght  ho,  as  he  laid  aside  his  pen,  -this  document  will 
gladden  many  a  heart,  and  it  will,  perchance,  w  n  forgiveness  for  mv 
own  weakness.  But  why  should  monarchs  have  hearfs  of  fl-h  l^kl 
other  men,  smce  they  have  no  right  to  feel,  to  love,  or  to  grieve?     Be 

I  wiM—"  '  ^  ^^"^J^«t«-'"y  children-J  will  makeyou  happy  ! 

A  ^^t'^"^^'  <",  ^'P^L  ^-'P  ""^  ^^^  '^oo'*'  a"<3  the  governess  of  the  little 
Archduchess,  Maria  Theresa,  entered  the  room 

MaiLJrtlnMh;p'-^   ''^\'"J  ^'''L'""^  voice, -to  announce  to  your 
Sr  ^;  Princess  has  breathed  her  last "  ^ 

Ihe  Emperor  made  no  reply.     He  motioned  the  lady  to  retire  and 
bowmg  h.s  head,  gave  way  to  one  long  burst  of  grief  ^  '  ' 

tor  hours  he  sat  there,  solitary  and   broken -hearted      Af  inn^fi,  .1, 
^^r  ""  "'"•     "^  '^'^^  "'=  '-^.  and  hi':;::  were 'teSa'd 

"It  is  over!"  exclaimed  he,  in  clear  and  unfaltering  tones      "Th*. 
pnstisbur,ed;  and  I  am  born  ane>,' to  a  life  whereoAL  ai^shall  be 
Austria's  greatness  and  her  people's  welfare      I  am  no  mnr!T»,.?K     a 
no  more  a  father.     Austria  ^shafl    be  my  bHdollXveTlu^Sf;^^^ 


CHAPTEP.  Vli:. 

THE     CONFERE>^CE. 

Wt  excitement  prevailed  at-Neustadt.    All  work  was  susnended 
their  hotr  T;'  ''"^'  '"'  ^'^^^"g'^  '^  -^^  "«^'  Sundt;  the  p  rp^  in 

■p        \  J  .   ^"^  occupations  of  every  day  life 
Neust'adt  srn'!?\l^.''''   not  Sunday,  it  was  a  holiday.     A   holiday   for 

2Ll!!!lihe_l'ttle  village  had  existed  in   profound  obscurity,  its 

HWDrical.  Hubner  II,  page  ?5,  ' 


3G  «  JOSEPH  THE  SECOND 

simple  inhabitants  dreauiingaway  their  lives  far  from  the  clamor  of  the 
•worJd  and  its  vicissitudes.  Their  slumbers  bad  been  disturbed  by  the 
seven  year's  war,  when  many  a  father,  sou,  husband  and  lover  had  fought 
nndfallen  on  its  blood-thirsty  battle-field.  But  with  the  return  of  peace 
came  insignificance,  and  villagers  of  Neustadt  went  on,  dreaming  as  be- 
fore. 

To-day,  however,  on  the  3d  of  September,  in  the  year  1770,  they  were 
awakened  by  an  event  which  gave  to  Ndustadt  a  place  in  history.  The* 
two  greatest  Potentates  in  Germany  were  to  rneet  there,  to  bury  their 
past  enmity,  and  pledge  to  each  other  the  right-hand  of  fellowship. 

These  two  Potentates  were  the  Emperor  of  Austria  and  the  King  of 
Prussia.  It  was,  therefore,  not  surprising  that  all  Neustadt  should  be 
out  of  doors  to  witness  the  baptism  of  Neustadt's  celebrity. 

The  streets  were  thronged  with  well-dressed  people,  the  houses  were 
hung  with  garlands  and  wreathes,  the  qjiurch-bells  were  ringing,  and  all 
the  dignitaries  of  the  town  had  turned  out  to  witness  the  pageant. 

And  now  the  moment  had  arrived.  The  thunder  of  cannon,  the 
shouts  of  the  people,  who  thronged  the  avenue  that  led  .to  the  palace, 
and  the  clang  of  martial  music  announced  the  approach  of  the  Emperor, 
whom  his  people  were  frantic  to  welcome. 

JHe  came — this  young  -man,  upon  the  jet-black  Arabian,  who  rode 
aHead  of  those  glittering  nobles — this  was  the  Emperor  Joseph,  the 
■  hope  of  Austria. 

A  thousand  voices  rent  the  air;  with  shouts,  whil^  Joseph  smiled  and 
bowed  and  raised  his  eyes  to  the  balconies,  whence  showers  of  boquets 
were  falling  around  him. 

He  was  inclining  his  head  when  a  wreath  of  red  roses  and  orange 
flowers,  aimed  by  some  skilful  hand,  fell  directly  upon  his  saddle-bow. 
He  smiled,  and  taking  up  the  wreath,  looked  around  to  see  whence  it 
ca;ne.  Suddenly  bis  eye  brightened  and  his  countenance  expressed  in- 
creased interest,  while  he  reined  iahis  horse  that  he  might  look  again  at, 
a.  lady  who  was  learnng  over  a  balcony  just  above  him.  Her  tall  and 
elegant  figure  was  clothed  in  a  dress  of  black  velvet,  closed  from  her 
white  throat  to  her  round  waist,  by  buttons  of  large  and  magnificent 
diamonds,  whose  brilliancy  was  almost  dazzling.  Her  youthful  and 
beautiful  face  was  colorless  with  that  exquisite  and  delicate  pallor  which 
has  no  affinity  to  ill  health,  but  resembles  the  spiritual  beauty  of  a  mar- 
ble statue.  Her  glossy,  black  hair  defined  the  exquisite  oval  of  that  fair 
face  as  a  rich  frame  sets  off  a  fine  painting.  On  her  head  she  wore  a 
diadem  of  brilliants,  which  confined  a  rich  black  lace  veil,  that  fluttered 
like  a  dark  cloud  around  her  graceful  figure.  Her  countenanca  wore  an 
expression  of  profound  sadness,  and  her  large,  lustrous  eyes  were  riveted 
with  an  earnest  gaze,  upon  the  Emperor.  • 

He  bowed  to  his  saddle-bow,  but  she  did  not  seem  to  recognise  the 
compliment,  for  her  glance  and  her  sadness  were  unchanged. 

"The  wreath  is  not  from  her,"  thought  Joseph,  with  a  feeling  of  dls- 
^ppo'ulmenjb,  but  a::  he  turned  for  one  more  look  at  her  lovely  face,  he 


rJAlhl^ki.'i;  i>l    Al.  >M;in.  37- 

reinatked  a  hoquet,  wliicli  she  wore  in  her  hopoiii.  ll  was  similar  to  llu'. 
wreath  which  he  held.  The  same  while  orange-blossoms  and  red  roses, 
fastened  together  by  the  same  white  and  red  ribbon,' whuse  lon^'stream- 
crs  were  now  fluttering  in  the  wind. 

A  triumphant  smile  overspread  the  featuresof  the  Emperor,  as  blush- 
ing, he  bowed  again  and  passed  on.  Bift  his  face  no  longer  wore  its  ex 
pressiou  of  careless  gratilicjtion.  He  grew  absent  and  thoughtful ;  lie 
forgot  to  return  the  greetings  of  the  people,  and  vainly  the  ladies,  who 
crowded  window  and  balcony,  throw  flowers  in  his  way  or  waved  their 
^handkerchiefs  in  greeting.  He  saw  nothing  but  the  beautiful  vision  in 
the  black  veil,  and  wondered  whence  she  came  and  what  oould  be  the 
hidden  meaning  of  the  red  and  white  flowers  which  she  wore  and  gave 
to  him. 

He  was  glad  when  the  pageant  of  his  entry  into  Neustadt  was  over, 
and  dismounting  quickly,  he  entered  the  palace,  followed  by  Fieldmar- 
shal  Lacy  and  Count  Kosenberg. 

The  people  looked  after  tbeni  and  shouted  anew.  But  their  attention 
was  directed  from  the  Emperor  to  a  carriage,  driven  by  four  horses, 
which,  advancing  in  the  very  centre  of  the  briiliaut  cortege,  seemed  to 
contain  some  imperial  personage,  for  the  staflT were  around  it,  as  though 
forming  its  escort.  The  curtains  of  the  carriage  were  all  drawn  so  that 
nothing  could  be  seen  of  its  occupant. 

Who  could  it  be?  A  woman,  of  course  ;  since  no  man  wopld  dare 
to  be  driven  while  the  Emperor  of  Austria  rode.  It  could  be  no  other 
than  the  Empress  Maria  Theresa,  who  had  taken  the  journey  to  Neus- 
tadt, that  she  might  look,  face  to  face,  upon  her  celebrated  opponettit,  and 
ofl^er  him  her  own  hand  in  pledge  of  future  good  understanding. 

While  the  populace  hoped  and  speculated,  the  mysterious  equipage 
arrived  before  the  palace  gates.  The  rich-liveried  footmen  sprang  ironi 
the  rumble,  and  stationed  themselves  at  the  door  of  the  coach.  The 
two  others,  who  were  seated  on  the  box,  did  likewise^  brmging  with 
them  as  they  alighted  on  the  ground,  a  roll  of  rich  Turkey  carjieting 
which  they  laid,  with  great  precision,  from  the  carriage  to  the  palace 
steps. 

Then  the  people  were  convinced  that  it  was  the  Empre&n.  Who  but 
tire  sovereign  lady  of  Austria  and  Hungary  would  walk  the  stroets  upon 
a  carpet  of  such  magnificence  ?  And  they  thronged  nearer,  eager.  To 
cj^tch  the  first  glance  of  tlieir  beloved  and  honored  Empress. 

The  carpet  was  laid  without  a  v/rinkle.  One  of  the  footmen  opened 
the  carriage  door,  while  another  approached  the  fore-wheel. 

"She  comes!  she  comes!"  cried  the  populace,  and  tliey  crowded 
around  in  eager  delight. 

One  foot  was  put  forward.  Not  a  foot  encased  in  u  satin  slipper,  but 
a  foot  in  a  buckled  shoe,  which  glistening,  though  it  was,  with  diamonds, 
was  not  that  of  an  Empress.     The  occupant  of  the  carriage  was  a  man. 

*'  A  man  !"  e.\claimed  the  bystanders,  astounded.  Y.es.  Here  he 
came,  wrapped  «p  in  a  bear-skin,  which,  on  this  warm  summor  day,  was 


38  J  OSEl'H  THE  SECOND. 

enough  to  dissolve  an  ordinary  human  being  into  vapor.  Not  content 
with  hi.s  wrapping,  his  hands- were  encased  in  a  huge  muff,  v,'hich  he  Held' 
close  to  his  face,  that  he  might  not  inhale  one  single  breath  of  the  air 
that  was  refreshing  everybody  else.  His  head  was  covered  by  a  hood 
which  concealed  his  tace,  of  which  nothing  was  visible  save  a  pair  of 
light  blue  eyes.  »  * 

When  he  had  disappeared  within  the  palace  doors,  the  footmen  rolled 
up  the  carpet  and  replaced  it  on  the  coach-box. 

The  populace,  who  had  been  looking  on  in  speechless  v.'onder,  now  be- 
gan to  laugh  and  whisper.  Some  said  it  was  the  King  of  the  North 
Pole  ;  others  declared  it  was  an  Arctic  bear ;  others  again  thought  the 
gentleman  had  started  for  Siberia  and  had  lost  his  way.  Finally  the 
desir'e  to  know  who  he  wa»  grew  uncontrolable,  and  thronging  around 
his  lackeys  the  people  shouXed  out, 

"  Who  is  he ?    Tell  us,  who  is  he  V 

The  lackeys,  with  the  gravity  of  heralds-at-arms,  shouted  out  in  return, 

"Tnis  is  his  Highness  Prince  Kaunitz,  Prime  Minister  of  their  Maj- 
esties, the  Empress  Maria  Theresa  and  the  Emperor  Joseph  of  Austria !" 


CHAPTER  IX. 


'^What  an  abominable  idea!"  exclaimed  prince  Kaunitz,  as  perfectly 
exhausted  from  his  journey  he  fell  into  an  arm-chair  in  his  own  room. 
"  What  an  abominable  idea,  to  undertake  this  journey  !  These  German 
roads  are  as  rough  and  uncouth  as  the  Germans  themselves,  and  I  only 
wonder  that  we  have  arrived  without  breaking  our  ribs  !" 

"  It  would  certainly  have  been  more  convenient,"  said  Baron  Binder, 
"  if  the  King  of  Prussia  had  visited  us  in  Vie^ma." 

Kaunitz  turned  his  large  eyes  full  upon  his  friend. 

"1  suppose,"  said  he,  "that  you  jest  Binder;  for  you  must  know  that 
it  is  never  safe  to  have  your  enemy  under  your  own  roof." 

"  Your  Highness,  then,  has  no  confidence  in  the  protestations  of  love 
that  are  going  on  between  the  Emperor  and  the  King'?" 

The  Prince  made  no  reply.  He  was  looking  at  himself  in  a  mirror, 
criticising  his  toilet  which  had  ji^^t  been  'completed  by  the  expert  Hipo- 
lyte.     Apparently  it  was  satis'fictory,  for  he  looked  up  and  spoke. 

"Yon  are  a  grown-up  child,  Binder;  you  stare  and  believe  everything. 
Have  you  not  yet  learned  thiit  statesmanship  rpcognises  nothing  but  in-- 
terest'^     Tojday  it  is  to  the  interest  of  Frederic  to  squeeze  our  hands 


and  protest  that  ho  loves  us;  to-morrow,  (ifho  can,)  he  will  put  it: 
Silesia  in  his  royal  pocket.  We,  too,  have  found  it  convenient  to  v.uU' 
him  a  love-letter  or  two;  but  to-day.  if  we  could,  we  would  plod:  ou' 
hiscrown,  atid  make  him  a  liltlo.  Marquis  again  !  Onr  intimacy  reroircis 
me  of  41  sight  I  once  saw. while  we  were  in  Pari*;.  It  was'a  cage^  iu 
which  animals,  naturally  antagonistic,  wove  living  in  a  state  of  perfect 
concord.  A  dog  and  cat  were  dining  sotlably  together  fiom  one  plate, 
and  not  far  ofT,  a  tnrkey-hcn  was  comfortably  perched  upon  the  back  of 
a  fox,  who,  so  far  from  betraying  any  symptom  of  appetite  for  the  tur- 
key, looked  quite'oblivious  T)f  her  proximity,  1  gave  ^he  keeper  a 
louis  d'or,  and  he  told  me  his  secret.  The  dog's  teeth  were  drawn,  and 
the  cat's  claws  were  pared  ofT;  this,  of  course,  forced  both  to  keep  the 
peace.  As  for  the  turkey  hen,  she  was  fastened  to  the  back  of  the  fox 
with  fine  wire,  and  this  was  the  secret  of  her  security. 

"  Ah !"  cried  Binder,  laughii]g,  "  this  is  the  history  of  many  a  human 
alliance.  How  many  foxes  I  have  Icnown  who  carried  their  hens  upon 
their  backs,  and  made  believe  to  love  them,  because  they  dared  not  do 
otherwise." 

"  Peace,  Binder,  my  story  is  not  yet  ended.  One  r^iorning  the  dog 
and  the  cat  were  found  dead  in  thdr  corner ;  a»d  in  the  other,  the  fox 
lay  bleedinji  and  moaninir.  while  of  the  hen,  nothing  remained  save  her 
f'atheis.  Tirrie — the  despot  that  rules  us  all,  had  outwitted  the  keeper 
and  asserted  the  laws  of  nature.  The  cat's  claws  had  grown  out  and  so 
had  {he  iJng's  teeth.  The  fux,  after  much  pondering  over  his  misf(>r- 
tunes,  had  discovered  the  reason  why  he  couid  not  reach  the  hen  ;  and 
this  dene,  he  worked  at  the  wires  until  they  broke.  Of  course  he  re- 
venged himself  on  (he  spot  by  gobbliiig  her  up  ;  but  in  his  wrath  at  the 
wires,  he  had  th;ust  them  so  deeply  into  his  own  flesh  that  the  wounds 
they  made  upon  his  body  caused  his  death.  And  so  ended  the  compul- 
sory alliance  of  four  natural  enemies." 

"  Does  your  Highness  apply  that  anecdote  to  us  1"  asked  Binder. — 
"  Are  we  to  end  like  the  cat  and  the  dog  1" 

"  For  the  present,"  said  Kaunitz,  thoughtfully,  '•  our  teeth  and  claws 
are  harmless.  We  must  wait  until  they  have  grown  out  again  !" 
''  Your  Highness,  then,  assigns  us  the  role  of  the  dog?" 
"Certainly.  I  leave  it  to  Prussia  to  play  the  cat — she  has  ."scratched 
us  more  than  once,  and  even  to-day  when  she  covers  her  paws  with  vel- 
vet, I  feel  the  claws  underneath.  I  came  hither  to  watch  her.  1  am  cu- 
rious to  know  what  it  is  in  Frederic  that  has  so  bewitched  the  voung 
Emperor  of  Austria." 

"It  would  appear  that  his  Majesty  of  Prussia  has  extraordinary  pow- 
ers of  fi^scination.     No  one  can  resist  him." 

'•/shall  resist  him,"  said  Kaunitz,  "for  against  his  fascinations  T  am. 
defended  by  the  talisman  of  our  mutual  hate." 

"  Do  not  say  so,  your  Highness.  The  King  of  Prussia  m.ay  fenr,  but 
he  cannot  hate  you.  And  did  he  not  make  it  a  .special  Tcquest  that  you 
should  accompany  the'Emperor?" 


.lOrtKi'  '.'I'M 

"lie  did';  and  hov/ever  disiucllDed  1  might  ha  to  accept  his  invita- 
tion, I  have  come  lest  he  rshould  suppose  that  I  am  afraid  to  encounter 
Lis  eagle  eyes.*  I  feai-  Ifiin/  He  intimidate  me! — It  is  expedient  for 
the  present  that  Austria  and  Prussia  should  be  quasi-nXWes,  for  in  this'* 
■'^vay  pea<ie  has  been  secured  to  Europe.  But  my  system  of  diplomacy^ 
which  the  Empress  has  made  her  own,  forbids  me  to  make  any  perma- 
nent alHanc-p  ^nih  a  Priiioe  who  hvt.'.>  politically  from  hand  to  mouth, 
and  has  no  firied  line  ol'  policy.}  No — I  do  tiot  fear  him,  for  I  seo 
through  his  hypocritical  professions,  and  in  spite  oHns  usurped  crown,  I 
feel  myself  to  be  more  than  his  equal.  If  he  has  won  thirteen  victories  • 
on  the  battle-field,  I  have  fought  twice  as  many  in  the  cabinet,  where 
the  fight  is  hand  to  hand,  and  the  victor  conquers  without  an  army.  On 
this  field  he  will  scarcely  dare  to  encounter  me.  If  he  does,  he  will  find 
his  master  for  once  !"• 

"  Yes,"  repeated  Kaunitz  emphatically,  "he  will  find  his  master  in 
mc.  I  have  never  failed  to  make  other  men  subservient  to  my  schemes, 
and  the  King  of  Prussia  shall  grace  my  triumph  with  the  rest.  He  is 
the  vassal  of  Austria,  and  I  will  be  the  one  to  force  him  back  to  his  al- 
legiance. It  is  scandalous  that  this  petty  King  should  have  been  suffer- 
ed to  play  an  important  part  in  European  affairs.  I  will  drive  him 
from  his  accidental  grandeur,  and  he  shall  return  to  his  duty.  I  will 
humble  him  if  I  can,  for  this  King  of  Pl-ussia  is  the  only  man  in  Europe 
who  has  denied  me  the  honors  and  consideration  due  rae  as  a  politician 
and  a  Prince. "| 

While  Kaunitx  spoke,  his  marble  face  grew  animated,  and  his  eyes 
glowed  with  the  fire  of  hate. 

''  Nay,  Prince  !"  exclaimed  Binder,  anxious  to  subdue  the  fiend  that 
was  rising  in  his  friend's  heart, "' everybody  knows  that  you  are  the 
coachman  of  Europe,  and  that  it  is  in  the  power  of  no  man  to  wrest  the 
reins  from  your  hand?." 

"  May  this  Prussian  ride  behind  as  my  footman !"  cried  Kauuitz, 
gnashing  his  teeth.  "  Oh,  I  know  him  !  1  know  why  he  pays  a  mil- 
lion  of  subsidy  annually  to  his  accomplice,  the  virtuous  Catharine, 
that  she  rnay  continue  her  assaults  upon  Poland  and  Turkey  !  I  know 
whither  his  longings  travel ;  but  when  he  stretches  his  hand  out  for  the 
booty,  we  too  will  be  there  to  claim  our  share,  and  he  shall  yield  it.'' 

"Your  Highness  speaks  in  riddles,"  said  Binder,  shrugging  his  shoul- 
ders. "I  am  accustomed,  as  you  know,  to  look  through  your  political 
spectacles  ;  and  I  beg  you  to  explain,  for  I  am  perfectly  at  a  loss  to  un- 
derstand you.*'  V 

The  countenance  of  Kaunitz  had  resumed  its  impassable  look.  He 
threw  back  his  head,  and  fixed  his  cold  heartless  blue  eyes  upon  the, 
Baron. 

"  Do  you  know,"  said  he,  "  what'Wjlliam  the  Silent  once  said  of  him- 

*  Ferrand's  History  of  Dismemberment  of  Poland ;  vol.  1,  page  108, 
t  KauaiUt's  own  words.    See  Ferrand,  vol.  1,  page  69. 
,  i  KauDit/'s  own  words,    Fflrrarc).  vol.  1,  page  104. 


neir^  '  If  1  knew  that  jay  uight-CJip  had  louud  out  my  tlioiiglita,  I  would 
throw  it  in  tljo  fire.' — Now,  Binder,  do  not  aim  to  be  my  night-cap,  or 

J  shall  burn  you  to  a  cinder, But  enough  of  this.     It  would  seem 

that  the  Emperor  Joseph  expects  mo  to  wait  upon  him.  Well— if  it 
please  him  that  I  should  make  the  first  visit,  I  will  humor  him.  When 
a  man  feels  that  he  is  loid  and  master  of  another,  ho  can  afford  to  be 
condescending!     I  w,ill  indulge  the  Emperor's  whim."  , 

He  rang,  and  one  of  his  valets  entered  thu  room. 

"  Is  his  Majesty  in  the  castle  V 

"yes,  your  Highness.     His  Majesty  has  been  reviewing  the  troops." 

"  Where  is  his  Majesty  now  ?" 

"He  is  with  his  suite  in  the  parlor  that  overlooks  the  square." 

*'  Is  it  far  from  this  room  '{" 

"  No,  your  Highness.     It  is  close  by." 

"  Then  reach  me  a  cloak  and  muff,  and  woe  to  you  if  I  encounter  a 
draught  on  my' way  !" 


CHAPTER   X. 

SOUVENIR  d'ePERIES. 

The  Emperor  stood  in  the  centre  of  the  room,  in  lively  conversation 
•with  the  gentlemen  of  his  suite.  As  Kaunitz  entered,  he  stopped  at 
once  and,  coming  forward,  received  the  Prince  with  a  cordial  welcome. 

Kaunitz  replied  by  a  low  bow,  and  nodded  slightly  to  Prince  de 
,  Ligne  and  General  Lacy. 

"Your  Highness  is  just  in  time,"  said  the  Emperor.  "These  gentle- 
men need  encouragement.  They  have  been  blushing  and  trembling  like 
two  young  debutantes." 

"Before  whom,  your  Majesty  ?" 

"  Oh  ! — before  the  great  Frederic,  of  course.  And  de  Ligne,  who  is 
considered  the  most  elegant  man  in  Vienna,  actually  trembled  more 
than  anybody  else." 

"  Oh,  actors  trembling  before  their  manager !"  said  Kaunitz  with  a 
slight  shrug.  "  Compose  yourselves,  gentlemen  ;  the  King  of  Prussia 
is  too  much  absorbed  in  his\wn  rdle  to  takife  any  notice  of  you." 

"That  is  riwht,"  cried  the  Emperor.  "Encourage  the  debutantes, 
Prince  J" 

"  I  scarcely  think  that  the  Prince  will  succeed  where  your  Majesty 
has  failed,"  said  General  Von  Lacy  proudly. 

"  And  his  Highness  will  hardly  have  any  time  to  devote  to  us,  for 


42  JOSEPH  THL  SEOUMf 

doubtless  he  too  is  practising  the  ?-oZe  which  he  must  play  before  the 
King  of  Prussia,"  added  de  Ligne, 

"  I  beg  to  impress  upon  the  Prince  de  Ligne,"  interrupted.  Kaunitz, 
"  that  the  verb  '  must'  is  one  which  I  am  well  accustomed  to  conjugate 
for  others,  but  never  allow  others  to  conjugate  for  me." 

"  I  for  one  have  had  it  conjugated  for  me  by  your  Highness,"  said  the 
Emperor  laughing.  "  Nobody  in  Austria  knows  it  in  all  its  moods  and 
tenses  better  than  I.  But  I  have  always  recognised  you  as  my  teacher, 
and  hope  always  to  remain  your  faithful  pupil." 

The  clouds  which  were  gathering  on  Kaunitz's  brow  now  shifted  to 
the  faces  of  Lacy  and  de  Ligne. 

"  I  have  nothing  to  teach  your  Majesty,"  replied  Kaunitz,  almost  smi- 
ling; "but  allow  me  as  a  faithful  servant  to  offer  you  a  suggestion. 
Present  to  the  King  of  Prussia  that  beautiful  wreath  which  you  hold  in 
your  hand,  as  an  emblem  of  the  friendship  which  to  day  we  pledge  to 
Prussia."  ' 

'■  Not  I,"  cried  Joseph,  while  he  held  up  his  wreath  and  admired  its 
white  and  red  roses.  "I  shall  keep  my  boquet  were  it  only  for  the 
sake  of  the  beautiful  donor.  You,  Prince,  who  penetrate  all  things, 
have  pity  on  me,  and  find  out  her  name." 

"Your  Majesty  saw  her  then  V 

<' Saw  her?"  Yes,  by  Aphrodite,  I  did,  and  never  in  my  life  di  I 
see  a  lovelier  woman.  She  stood  there  in  her  velvet  dress  and  veil, 
looking  for  all  the  world  like  the  queen  of  night,  of  starry  night.  You 
see  how  she  has  impressed  me,  since  I,  who  am  so  prosaic,  launch  out 
into  extravagance  of  speech  to  describe  her." 

"She  was  in  mourning'?"  asked  Kaunitz  thoughtfully. 

"  Clothed  in  black,  except  the  diamonds  that  sparkled  on  her  boddice, 
and  the  boquet  (a  match  to  mine)  which  she  wore  in  her  bosom.  Ah, 
your  Highness,  how  you  look  at  my  poor  flowers  as  if  treason  were 
lurking  among  their  leaves  1" 

"It  is  a  beautiful  boquet,"  said  Kaunitz,  eyeing  it  critically,  "and 
very  peculiar.     Will  your  Majesty  allow  me  to  examine  it?" 

The  Emperor  handed  over  the  wreath.  "  Take  it,"  said  he,  "  but  be 
merciful  to  my  pretty  delinquents." 

Kaunitz  took  the  flowers  and  looked  at  them  as  he  would  have  done 
at  any  other  thing  that  might  be  the  links  in  a  chain  of  evidence,  and 
passed  his  slender,  white  fingers  through  the  long  ribbons  that  fastened 
them  together. 

•  "  The  lady  who  threw  these  flowers  is  a  Pole,"  said   he   after  a 
pause. 

"  How  do  you  know  that  ?"  cried  the  Emperor. 

"It  is  certainly  not  accidental  that  the  wreath  should  be  composed  of 
white  and  red  roses,  and  tied  with  a  knot  of  v.'hite  and  red  ribbons. 
White  and  red,  you  remember,  are  the  colors  of  the  so-called  Republic 
of  Poland." 

"  You  are  right !"  exclaimed  Joseph,  "  and  she  wears  mourning  be- 


cause  a  noble  woman  must  necessarily  grieve  for  the  sufferings  of  her 
bleeding  countrj-." 

'•  Look,"  said, Kaunitz,  who  meanwhile  was  opening  the  leaves  and 
searching  among  ihem,  "here  is  a  paper.  Does  }our  Majesty  permit 
me  to  draw  it  out  ?" 

"  Certainly.  I  gave  you  the  wreath  to  examine,  and  you  shall  have 
the  benefit  of  all  that  you  discover." 

Kaunitz  bowed  his  thanks  and  began  to  untwist  the  stems  of  the 
flowers.     The  Emperor  and  his  two  eourtiers  looked  on  with  interest. 

The  Prince  drew  forth  a  little  folded  paper  and  reached  it  over  to  the 
Emperor. 

"  Have  the  goodness,  your  Mnjesty,  to  read  it  yourself.  A  declara- 
tion of  love  fiurn  a  lady  is  not  intended  for  my  profane  eyes." 

The  Emperor  sighed.  "  No,"  said  he,  "it  is  no  declaration  for  me  ; 
I  am  not  so  happy.     Read  it,  your  Highness,  read  it  aloud." 

Kaunitz  unfolded  the  paper  and  read  :  "  Souvenir  d' Epkties.''^ 

"  Nothing  more  V  asked  Joseph. 

Kaunitz  replied  by  handing  him  the  note. 

"  How  strange !  Only  these  words,  and  no  explanation  !  I  cannot 
understand  it."- 

'•  These  words  prove  my  supposition,  your  .Majesty,  The  donor  is  a 
Polish  lady  and  one  of  the  Confederates." 

'■  You  think  so?" 

"  1  am  convinced  of  it.  When  your  Majesty  was  travelling  in  Hun- 
gary, did  you  not  spend  a  day  at  Eperies,  and  honor  the  Confederates 
by  receiving  them  both  publicly  and  privately "?" 

"I  did,"  replied  Joseph  warmly,  "and  it  gladdened  my  heart  to  as- 
sure  these  brave  struggling  patriots  of  my  sympathy." 

"  Did  not  your  Majesty  go  so  far  as  to  promise  them  mediation  with 
Prussia  and  Russia?"* 

*'  I  did,"  replied  the  Emperor  with  a  faint  blush, 

"Well,  then,  this  female  Confederate  meant  to  remind  you  of  your 
promise  on  the  day  when  you  ore  to  hold  a  conference  with  Frederic," 
said  Kaunitz,  allowing  the  wreath  to  slip  through  his  fingers  to  the  floor. 
"There,  your  Majesty,"  continued  he,  "your  beautiful  Pole  is  at  your 
feet.     Will  you  rescue  her  or  unite  in  crushing  her  to  the  earth  ?" 

"Oh,  I  will  rescue  her,"  replied  Joseph,  "that  she  may  not  fall  into 
the  hands  of  ambitious  Catharine.  It  would  give  her  great  pleasure' to 
deck  her  Muscovite  head  with  these  sweet  Polish  roses,  but  she  shall 
not  have  them." 

With  these  words,  and  before  his  courtiers  could  anticipate  his  action 
the  Emperor  stooped  and  picked  up  the  wreath. 

"  Have  a  care,  your  Majesty,"  said  the  wary  Kaunitz,  "  how  you 
espouse  Polish  quarrels.  The  Poles  are  unlucky.  They  can  die  like 
men,  but  they  do  not  live  like  men.  Beware  of  Polish  roses,  for  their 
perfume  is  not  wholesome." 

*  Ferrand  ;  vol.  1 ,  page  79, 


44  .Kj-sKru  rHK  .Shoo.\u 

Just  then,  a  shout  was  heard  in  the  distance,  and  the  Emperor  has- 
tened to  the  window, 

"  It  is  the  King  of  Prussia !"  cried  he  joyfully,  and  he  walked  towards 
the  door. 

Prince  Kaunitz  took  the  liberty  of  going  immediately  up  and  inter- 
posing his  tall  person  between  Joseph  and  the  doorway. 

"  Your  Majesty,"  said  he  reproachfully,  "  what  are  you  about  to  do  ?" 

"I  am  about  to  go  forward  to  meet  the  King  of  Prussia.  He  is  just 
descending  from  his  carriage — do  not  detain  ms,"  replied  Joseph  hastily. 

"  But  has  your  Majesty  forgotten  that  at  Neisse,  when  the  King  of 
Prussia  was  the  host,  he  came  no  further  than  the  stairway  to  meet  you? 
It  is  not  seemly  that  Austria  should  condescend  to  Prussia. 

"  My  dear  Prince,"  said  the  Emperor  with  a  peculiar  laugh,  "it  is 
your  business  to  respect  these  conventions.  It  is  mine  to  regulate  them. 
As  the  Utile  Sovereign  of  Austria,  I  hasten  to  do  homage  t9  the  great 
King  of  Prussia."  And  gently  putting  the  Minister  aside,  the  Emperor 
walked  rapidly  out,  followed  by  his  suite. 

Kaunitz  looked  after  him  with  stormy  brow.  "  Incorrigible  fanatic !" 
said  he  to  himself.  "  Will  you  never  cease  to  butt  your  empty  head 
against  the  wall !     You  will  butt  in  vain  as  long  as  /  have  power  and 

life  t Go — it  befits  such  a  little  Emperor  as  you  to  humble  yourself 

before  your  great  King ;  but  Austria  is  represented  in  my  person,  and  I 
remain  here !" 

He  looked  around  the  room,  and  his  eyes  fell  upon  the  wreath  which 
the  Emperor  had  laid  by  the  side  of  his  hat  on  the  table.  A  sneer  over- 
spread his  countenance  as  he  went  towards  it  and  shook  off  some  of  the 
leaves,  which  were  already  fading. 

"  How  soon  they  fall !"  said  he.  "  I  think  that  the  glorious  Republic 
will  be  quite  as  short-lived  as  they.  Meanwhile  I  shall  see  that  the 
'  Souvenir  d^Ujjeries  '  lives  no  longer  than  roses  have  a  right  to  live." 

He  left  the  room  resolved  to  find  out  who  it  was  that  had  bestowed 
the  wreath;  "for,"  thought  he,  "she  may  prove  a  useful  instrument 
with  which  to  operate  on  either  side." 


CHAPTER  XI. 

FREDERIC  THE  GREAT. 


With  youthful  ardor,  unconscious  that  his  head  was  uncovered,  the 
Emperor  hurried  dow.n  the  staircase  into  the  street.  Looking  neither  to 
the  right  nor  to  the  left,  his  eyes  fixed  upon  the  spot  whence  the  King 


EMPEROR  Of  AUSTRIA.  4,) 

was  advancing,  the  Emperor  rushed  onwards,  for  the  first  time  in  his 
life  slighting  the  people  who  thronged  aruund,  full  of  joy  at  sight  of  his 
elegant  and  handsome  person. 

Frederic  was  coming  with  equal  rapidity,  and  now  in  the  very  centre 
of  the  square  the  Monarchs  met. 

At  this  moment  all  was  quiet.  The  military,  ranged  in  lines  around 
the  square,  were  glistening  with  gold  lace  and  brightened  arms.  Behind 
them  came  the  people,  who  far  and  near  were  seen  flowing  in  one  great 
stream  towards  the  square,  while  on  the  balconies  and  through  the  open 
windows  of  the  houses  around  richly-dressed  matrons  and  beautiful  mai- 
dens enclosed  the  scene,  like  one  long  wreath  of  variegated  flowers. 

They  met,  and  in  the  joy  of  his  youthful  Enthusiasm  the  Emperor 
threw  himself  into  the  arms  of  the  King  of  Prussia  and  embraced  him 
with  a  tenderness  that  was  almost  filial.  The  King  returned  the  caress, 
and  pressed  the  young  monarch  to  his  heart. 

While  the  King  of  Prussia  had  been  advancing,  the  people  in  silence 
were  revolving  in  their  minds  the  blood,  the  treasure,  the  long  years  of 
struggle  which  Austrians  had  owed  to  this  warlike  Frederic.  But  when 
they  saw  how  Joseph  greeted  him,  they  forgot  everything,  and  he  now 
seemed  to  their  excited  imaginations  to  come  like  a  resplendent  sun  of 
Peace,  whoso  rays  streamed  far  into  the  distance  of  a  happy  and  pros- 
perous futurity. 

It  was  Peace  !  Peace  !  The  hope  of  Peace  that  filled  every  eye  with 
tears,  and  bowed  every  unconscious  knee  in  prayer  to  Almighty  God. 

From  the  midst  of  the  kneeling  multitude,  a  voice  was  heard  to  cry 
out,  "  Long  live  Peace!"'  A  thousand  other  voices  echoed  the  words, 
"Long  live  Peace!" 

"Long  live  the  Emperor  and  the  King!'*  cried  the  same  voice;  and 
now  the  air  was  rent  with  shouts,  while  from  street  and  square  ana  from 
every  house,  the  cry  went  up  to  heaven,  "  Long  live  the  Emperor ! 
Long  live  the  King  !" 

Frederic  withdrew  from  Joseph's  embrace,  and  bowed  to  the  multi- 
tude with  that  bright  and  fascinating  smile  which  no  one  was  ever  known 
to  resist. 

He  then  turned  to  the  Emperor,  and  presenting  the  young  Prince  of 
Prussia  and  the  two  Princes  of  Brunswick,  he  pointed  to  the  white  uni- 
forms which  they  wore  and  said :  "  Sire,  I  bring  you  some  new  recruits.* 
We  are  all  desirous  of  serving  under  your  banner.  And  we  feci  that  it 
would  be  an  honor,  continued  he,  looking  around  the  square,  "  to  be  the 
companions-in-arms  of  your  Majesty's  soldiers,  for  each  man  looks  like 
a  true  son  of  Mars." 

"  If  so,"  replied  the  Emperor,  "they  have  reason  to-rejoice.  since  to- 
day they  are  permitted,  for  the  first  time,  to  do  homage  to  their  father." 

Frederic  smiled,  and  taking  Joseph's  arm,  they  walked  together  to 
the  palace.  The  King  was  conducted  at  once  to  the  apartments  prepared 

*The  King  wore  the  Aastrian  uniform,  embroklereil  With  silver.    The  Princes  and  tho  King's 
mite  al80  wore  it, 


46  JuyEPH  THE  SECOND. 

for  his  occiipatioh,  whence  he  shortly  after  emerged  to  join  the  noble 
company  assembled  in  the  hall  that  led  into  the  dinitig-rooin. 

The  brilliant  suite  of  the  Emperor  were  awaiting  the  princety  pair, 
and  when  thty  entered  the  hall  together,  followed  by  the  cortege,  of  Prus- 
sia, eveiy  head  bowed  with  deferential  awe,  and  every  eye  sought  the 
ground.  One  head  only  bent  slightly,  and  one  pair  of  eyes  looked  boldly 
into  the  face  oi"  Frederic  the  Great. 

The  eagle  eye  of  the  King  remarked  him  at  once,  and  with  an  affable 
smile,  he  approached  the  haughty  Minister. 

"  1  rejoice,  at  last,  to  meet  Prince  Kaunitz  face  to  face,"  said  he,  in 
his  soft  and  musical  voice.  "  We  need  no  introduction  to  one  another. 
I  am  not  such  a  barbarian  as  to  require  that  he  should  be  pointed  out  to 
me  whom  ail  Europe  knows,  admires  and  respects." 

^Something  happened  to  which  Kaunitz  was  totally  unaccustomed — he 
blushed.  In  spite  of  himself  he  smiled  and  bowed  very,  very  low  ;  but 
he  found  no  words  wherewith  to  reply  to  Frederic's  flattering  address. 

"  Sire,"  said  the  Emperor,  coming  to  the  rescue,  "  you  are  making 
the  most  self  possessed  men  in  Austria  grow  speechless  with  ecstacy. 
Even  Kaunitz  is  at  a  loss  to  answer  you,  and  as  for  poor  De  Ligne,  he  is 
completely  dazzled.  But,  by  and  by,, he  will  get  accustomed  to  the 
sun's  splendor,  and  then  he  will  recover  his  accustomed  address."* 

'1  know  him  well,"  said  Frederic,  with  another  bewitching  smile.  "I 
have  read  your  letter  to  .Jean  Jacques  Rosseau,  Prince  ;  and  1  know  it  to 
be  genuine,  for  it  is  too  beautiful  to  be  a  forgery." 

"  Ah,  Sire !"  replied  De  Ligne,  "  I  am  not  of  such  ;-enown  that  obscure 
writers  should  seek  to  forge  my  name."f 

The  King  bowed,  and  turned  to  Fieldmarshal  Von  Lacy. 

"  Your  Majesty  need  not  present  this  man  either,"  said  he,  laying  his 
hand  upon  Lacy'^  shoulder,  ''  he  has  given  rae  entirely  too  much  trouble 
for  rae  not  to  be  familiar  with  his  features.  I  have  good  reason  to  re- 
member Von  Lacy  and  to  rejoice  that  he  is  not  Quartermaster-General 
to-day  ;  fpr  in  that  capacity,  1  and  my  soldiers  have  suffered  enough  fronr 
him.'  , 

"  But  where  is  Loudon  ?"  asked  the  Emperor,  "  He  is  very  late  to- 
day." 

"That  is  not  hi.s  habit,"  replied  .Frederic,  quickly,  " I  have  seldom 
been  able  to  come  upon  the  field  as  soon  as  he.  But,  sire,  we  have 
done  him  injustice,  for  he  is^  here,  punctual  as  though  he  awaited  his  ene- 
mies, not  his  friends." 

Crossing  over  to  Loudon,  and  disregarding  his  stiff  demeanor,  Frederic 
took  his  hand,  and  greeted  him  with  the  most  cordial  expressions  of  re- 
gard. 

"  If  it  be  agreeable  to  your  Majesty,"  said  the  Emperor,  as  the  doors 
were  flung  open,  "  we  will  proceed  to  dinner."     And  he  offered  his  arm, 

*The  Emperor's  words.     Conversations  with  Frederic  the  Great  by  Prince  de  Ligne,  page  11, 
t  Not  long  before  this,  a  letter  had  been  written  to  Jean  Jacoueg,  and  signed  with  the  king's 
name.    Tho  writer  of  this  letter  was  Horace  Walpole. 


OIPEROR  OF  AUSTRIA.  47 

Frederic  took  it  but  he  still  kept  his  eyes  upon  Loudon.  "Sire,"  said 
he  1<)  Joseph,  "if  I  am  to  have  the  honor  of  setting  beside  y^iir  Majc-ty 
at  th>-  t.ible,  pray  let  me  have  Loudon  on  the  other  side.  1  would  much 
rallicr  have  him  there  than  opposite     I  feel  safer." 

tSo  saying,  ihe  King  walked  on,  and  the  company  passed  into  the  diu- 
ing-rooni. 

"if  he  turns  the  heads  of  all  the  court  with  his  flattery,"  muttered 
Kaunitz,  following  just  after  the  princely  pair,  "he  shall  not  succeed 
Avithme.  What  fine  things  to  be  sure  !  But  flattery  indiscriminately 
liestowed  leaves  a  bitter  taste  in  the  mouth.  lie  wishes  Loudon  for  his 
Qcighbor,  forsooth,  as  if  a  man  could  have  any  rational  intercourse  with 
such  an  ignorant,  ill-bred,  awkward  dolt  as  he  is  I"     v 

And  Kaunitz,  who  was  secretly  chagrined  at  the  choice  of  the  King, 
took  the  seat  which  had  been  as^"gned  to  him  by  the  Emperor.  It  was 
at  Joseph's  own  table,  directly  opposite  the  two  Sovereigns. 

"  Ahl'  exclaimed  Frederic,  laughing  and  nodding  to  Kaunitz,  "  now 
I  am  satisfied.  If  I  would  rather  have  Loudon  beside  me,  I  would  rather 
have  the  greatest  statesman  in  Europe  before  me,  for  it  is  only  when  I 
can  see  him  that  I  feel  quite  safe  from  his  diplomatic  grasp — I  lake  shel- 
ter under  your  Highness's  eye.  Be  indulgent  to  an  "old  soldier,  whos6 
sword  has  so  often  been  struck  from  his  hands  by  your  magic  pen." 

"  Your  Majesty's  pen  is  as  sharp  as  your  sword,"  replied  Kaunitz,  "and 
the  world  has  learned  to  fe'ar  and  admire, the  one  as  mu(;h  as  the  other. 
We  offer  resistance  to  neither;  but  pay  willing  homage  to  the  Prince 
who  is  at  once  a  statesman,  an  author  and. a  warrior." 

The  Emperor  whispered  to  Frederic.  "  Sire,  a  compliment  from 
Kaunitz,  is  like  the  flower  upon  the  aloe.    It  blooms  once  in  a  century." 


CHAPTER  XIL 


THE    PRIMA    DOKNA. 


The  festivities  of  th6  first  day  were  concluded  Ti'ith  a  ballet.  Great 
preparations  had  been'  made  for  the  reception  of  the  King  of  Prussia. 
Noverre,  withjhis  dancers,  and  Floriau  Gassman,  with  his  opera  corps, 
had  been  summoned  to  Neustadt.  They  came  with  twenty  wagons 
laden  with  scenery,  coulisses,  machinery  and  costumes,  all  of  which  was 
intended  to  prove  to  Frederic,  that  although  the  court  of  Berlin  was  the 
acknowledged  seat  of  literature  and  the  firie  arts,  Vienna  was  not  alto- 
gether forsaken  by  the  Muses. 

''Your  Mfljesty  mu$t  bo  indulgent  to  our  theatrical  eHbrte,"  said  the 


48  JOSEPH  THE  SECOND. 

Emperor,  as  they  took  their  seats  m  the  box  which  had  bfeen  prepared 
for  iheir  occupation.  "  We  all  know  that  in  Berlin,  the  Muses  and  Graces 
have  their  home ;  they  seldom  visit  Vienna,  for  they  are  loyal,  and  love 
to  sit  at  the  feet  of  their  master."' 

"  Ah,  sire,  you  speak  of  the  past.  Time  was,  when  the  Muses  were 
not  unpropitious,  but  now  that  I  am  an  old  man,  they  have  proved  in- 
constant, and  have  fled  from  Sans-Souci  forever.  The  Muses,  them- 
selves, are  young,  and  it  is  but  natural  that  they  should  seek  your 
Majesty's  protection.  I  am  thankful,  through  your  intervention,  to  be 
admitted  once  more  to  Parnassus. 

Just  as  the  King  was  about  to  seat  himself,  he  remarked  Kaunitz,  who 
with  his  usual  grave  indifference,  was  advancing;  to  a  chair  not  far  off. 

Frederic  turned  smilingly  to  Joseph,  "  Your  Majesty  and  I,"  said 
he,  "  might  stand  to  night  as  representatives  of  youthful  and  aged  sov- 
ereignty. We  both  need  wisdom  in  our  councils.  Let  us  invite  Prince 
Kaunitz  to  sit  between  us." 

The  Emperor  bowed,  and  beckoned  to  the  Prince,  who  having  heard^ 
distinctly  what  ha(;l  been  intent  led  for  bis  ears,.could  not  suppress  a  mo- 
mentary expression  of  exultation.  Never  in  his  life  had  he  made  a 
bow  so  profound  as  that  with  which  he  took  the  seat  which  a  King  had 
resigned  to  him.  He  was  so  exultant  that  in  the  course  of  the  evening 
he  was  actually  heard  to  laugh  ! 

The  ballet  began.  Gods  and  goddesses  fluttered  about  "the  stage, 
Muses  and  Graces  grouped  themselves  together  in  attitudes  of  surpass- 
ing beauty,  and  finally,  with  one  grand  tableau,  compos6d  of  all  the 
dancers,  the  curtain  fell. 

After  the  ballet  came  a  concert.  It  was  to  open  with  an  air  from 
G luck's  opera,  of  Alceste,  sung  in  costume,  by  the  celebrated  Bernas- 
coni. 

The  orchestra  played  the  introduction^  and  the  curtain  rose,  but  .the 
Prima  Dona  did  not  appear.  The  leader  looked  towards  the  coulisses, 
but  in  vain,  and  the  audience  began  to  express  their  impatience  in  audi- 
ble murmurs.  The  curtain  fell  slowly,  and  the  Marshal  of  the  Enperor'3 
household,  coming  forward,  spoke  a  few  words  to  Joseph  in  a  lo>v  voice. 

He  turned  to  the  King.  ''  Sire,  1  have  to  apologise  to  you  for  this 
unlucky  contretems.    Signora  Bernasconi  has  been  taken  suddenly  sick." 

"  Oh,"  replied  Frederic,  laughing,  "  I  am  quite  au  fait  to  the  sudden 
illness  of  prima  donnas.  But  since  I  have  ordered  a  half  month's  salary 
to  be  withdrawn  from  every  singer  who  falls  sick  on  a  night  of  represen- 
tation, my  caniatrices  at  Berlin  enjoy  unprecedented  health." 

"Bernasconi  must  have  been  made  sick  by  her  anxiety  to  appear  well 
in  your  Majesty's  critical  eyes." 

"  Do  not  believe  it.  These  princesses  of  the  stage  are  more  ca- 
pricious  thxn  veritable  princesses.     Above  all  the  Italians." 

"  But  Bernasconi,"  said  Ka&nitz,  "is  not  an  Italian.  She  belongs  to 
a  noble  Polish  fiimily." 

"  So  much  the  worse,"  laughed  Frederic.    "  That  Polish  blood  is  for- 


F.Ml'EUOR  OF  AUSTRU.  49 

ever  boiling  over,  f  am  surprised  th^l  your  Highness  should  permit 
yoiir  director  to  give  lo  a  Polish  woman  a  role  of  iinportanoe.  Wher- 
ever the  Poles  go,  they  bring  trouble  and  strife." 

"  Perhaps  so,  sire,"  replied  Kauiiitz ;  "  but  they  are  excellent  actorfi, 
and  nft  people  understand  better  how  to  represent  heroes."  As  he  said 
this,  Kaunitz  drew  out  his  jevi-elled  snuff-box,  euriched  with  a  medalUori 
portrait'of  his  imperial  mistress.  Maria  Theresa. 

"To  represent  heroes,  I  grant  you  ;  but  just  as  we  are  beginning  to 
feel  an  interest  in  the  spectacle  of  their  heroism,  lo  !  the  strige-arrnor 
falls  off,  the  tin  .<?word  rattles,  and  we  find  that  we  were  wasting  bur  ^^ym- 
pathies  upon  a  band  of  play-actors." 

"Perhaps,"  said  K;iuniiz,  as  he  dipped  his  long  white  fingers  into  the 
snuff-box,  "perhaps  we  may  live  to  see  the  .stage  break  under  theru, 
and  then  they  may  cease  to  be  actors,  and  become  lunatics." 

Frederic's  eagle  e^^s  were  fixed  upon  Kaunitz  while  be  spoke,  but 
the  Minister  still  continued  to  play  with  his  snuff-bo.\. 

"  Prince,"  said  he,  laughing,  "  we  have  been  antagonists  for  so  many 
years  that  we  must  celebrate  our  first  meeting  by  a  pledge  of  future 
good-will.  The  Indians  are  accustomed  at  such  times  to  smoke  the  cal- 
umet of  peace.  Here  we  have  tobacco  under  another  form.  Will  you 
allow  me  a  pinch  front  your  snuff-box  ■?" 

This  was  a  token  of  such  great  condescension  that  even  the  haughty 
Kaunitz  was  seen  to  blush  with  gratified  vanity.  With  unusual  ea^vr- 
ness,  he  presented  his  snuff-box  to  the  King. 

The  King  took  the  snuff,  and  as  he  did  so,  remarked,  '•  This  is  the  firtt 
time  I  have  e\er  taken  snuff  from  another  man's  box!" 

"  Pardon  me,  your  Majesty,"  replied  Kaunitz,  quickly.  "Sneaia-was 
a  pinch  from  our  snuffbox." 

"  True,"  said  Frederic,  laughing,  "  but  the  tobacco  was  so  strong  that 
it  has  cost  me  many  an  uncomfortable  sneeze;  and  nobody  has  ever 
been  civil  enough  to  say  '  Heaven  bless  you.'  " 

While  the  King  and  Kaunitz  jested  together,  Signor  Tobaldi  had  beea 
singing  his  Aria ;  and  now  that  he  ceased,  Frederic,  for  the  first  time, 
became  aware  that  any  music  had  been  gomg  on. 

"Your  Majesty,"  said  the  Emperor,  "  has  done  injustice,  for  once,  to 
a  Prima  Donna.  Bernasconi  is  really  sick,  but  she  has  sent  a  sub'sti- 
tute." 

"These  substitutes,"  said  Frederic,  "  are  always  on  the  look-out  for 
such  opportunities  of  sliding  into  notice,  but  unhappily  they  are  not  of- 
ten equal  to  the  tasks  they  are  so  eager  to  perform." 

"  This  substitute,"  said  Joseph,  "  is  no  rival  opera'singcr.  She  is  a 
dear  friend  of  Bernasconi's,  who  speaks  of  her  singing  with  enthusi- 
asm." '"T' 

"  Is  that  pos'sible?  Does  one  singer  go  into  raptures  over  another  1 
By  all  means  let  us  hear  the  Phoenix." 

The  King  looked  towards  the  stage,  and  his  countenance  assumed,  at 
once,  an  expression  of  genuine  interest. 


50  JOSEPH  THE  SECOND. 

The  orchestra  once  more  began  the  introduction  to  Gluck's  beautiful 
x\ria.  Meanwhile  a  tall  and  elegant  person  was  seen  to  advance  towards- 
the  foot-lights.  She  wore  a  pure  Grecian  robe,  half  covered  with  a  man- 
tle of  purple  velvet,  richly  embroidered  in  gold,  which  fell  in  graceful 
folds  from  her  snowy  shoulders.  Her  dark  hair,  worn  io  the  Grecian 
style,  was  confined  by  a  diadem  of  brilliants,  and  the  short,  white  tunic 
which  she  wore  under  her  mantle,  was  fastened  by  a  girdle  that  was 
blazing  with  jewels. 

She  was  so  transcendantly  beautiful  that  Frederic  could  not  resist  the 
temptation  of  joining  in  the  applause  which  greeted  her  entrance.  She 
seemed  unconscious  of  the  effect  she  produced,  so  earnestly  and  anxiously 
were  her  large,  lustrous  eyes  fixed  upon  the  spot  where  Ed'ederic  and 
Joseph  were  sitting  together.  She  raised  her  graceful  arms  as  she  be- 
gan the  prayer  of  Alceste  ;  but  her  looks  were  riveted  upon  the  Sover- 
eigns, who  represent  divinity  on  earth.  When  she  sang,  the  tones  of 
had"  glorious  voice  sank  deep  into  the  hearts  of  all  who  listened.  Now 
it  was  clear,  pure,  and  vibrating,  wooing  the  air  like  a  clarionet — now  it 
caressed  the  ear  like  a  speaking  violin — and  anon  it  poured  forth  vol- 
umes of  harmony,  that  filled  all  space  as  the  booming  organ  fills  the 
ais^es  of  a  vast  and  lofty  cathedral.  Gluek,  the  hypercritical  Gluck, 
would  have  been  ravished  to  hear  his  music  as  she  sang  it ;  and  Fred- 
eric, who,  up  to  this  hour,  had  refused  to  acknowledge  the  genius  of  the 
great  German,  now  sat  breathless  with  rapture,  as  he  listened  to  such 
music  and  such  interpretation  of  music  as  never  had  been  heard  be- 
fore. 

The  Emperor  Joseph  was  unmindful  of  it  all.  He  had  a  vague  idea 
of  celestial  sounds  that  seemed  to  drown  him  in  an  ocean  of  melody, 
but  he  heard  not  a  note  of  Alceste's  prayer.  Every  sense  was  stunned 
save  one — and  that  one  was  sight. 

"It  is  she,"  murmured  he,  as  the  syren  ceased  to  sing;  "  it  is  she, 
the  beautiful  Pole.  How  resplendent  she  is  in  her  beauty  to-night  l" 
Then  turning  to  Kaunitz,  whose  observing  eyes  had  been  watching  his 
face  and  whose  sharp  ears  had  caught  his  words,  he  whispered. 

"  Do  you  remember  the  boquet  that  was  thrown  to  me  this  morn- 
ing?" 

"  I  forget  nothing  your  Majesty  deigns  to  communicate  to  me,"  replied 
Kaunitz. 

"  This  is  she.    Who  can  she  be  ?" 

"  Ah !"  exclaimed  Kaunitz,  slightly  elevating  his  eye-brows.  "  The 
'  Souvenir  (TEperies ' —  Now  I  comprehend  Bernasconi's  illness.  She 
fell  ill  through  patriotism,  that  t.his  adroit  country  woman  of  hers  might 
have  the  opportunity  of  being  remarked  by  your  Majesty.  I  would 
not  be  at  all  surprised  if  she  went  out  of  the  way  of  Prima  Donnas  to 
attract  your  Majesty's  attention.  These  Polish  women  are  fanatics  m 
their  love  of  country." 

The  Emperor  said  nothing  in  reply.  He  scarcely  listened.  His  eyes 
were  still  upon  the  descending  curtain  that  hid  the  mysterious  beauty 


EMPEROU  OF  AUSTRIA.  51 

from  his  sight.    l£  her  object  had  beeu  to  attract  hiin,  she  had  certainly 
succeeded. 

The  audience  were  waiting  for  some  signal  from  either  Joseph  or 
Frederic  that  they  might  give  vent  to  their  admir.ation.  The  K<ng  un- 
derstood the  gener.-il  feeling,  and  began  to  applaud  with  his  hands.  In 
a  moment,  the  applause  became  vociferous,  and  it  did  not  cease  until  the 
curtain  drew  up  a  second  time,  and  the  Prima  Donna  came  forward  to 
receive  her  ovation. 

For  one  moment  they  surveyed  the  enchanting  singer,  and  tl>en  they 
broke  out  into  another  wild  storm,  in  which  the  Emperor  joined  so 
heartily  that  his  voice  was  heard  above  the  din,  crying  out  ^^ Bravo/ 
Bravissima  V 

The  singer  sought  his  glance,  and  meeting  it,  blushed  deeply.  Then 
coming  forward  a  few  steps,  she  began  once  more  to  sing. 

Her  song  was  a  passionate  appeal  lo  the  two  Princes,  whom,  she  ad- 
dressed openly,  in  behalf  of  Poland. 

It  was  over,  and  not  a  sound  was  heard  in  the  theatre.  The  audience 
hung,  in  breathless  anxiety,  upon  the  verdict  that  must  come  from  those 
who  had  been  addressed.  They  were  so  intent  upon  Frederic  and  Jo- 
seph that  they  did  not  see  the  singer  le'ave  the  stage.  They  were  not 
destined,  however,  to  be  enlightened  or  relieved,  for  no  demonstration 
was  made  in  the  imperial  box. 

But  Joseph,  rising  from  his  seat,  signed  to  the  Marshal  of  the  house- 
hold to  approach. 

"  Go,  Count,"  said  he,  "  go  quickly,  and  ask  her  natne.  Tell  her  it  is 
the  Emperor  who  desires  to  know  her." 

*'  Her  name  is  Poland,"  said  Kaunitz,  in  an  absent  tone.  Then  ad- 
dressing Joseph,  he  continued.  "  Did  1  not  tell  your  Majesty  that  your 
adventure  was  not  to  end  with  the  throwing  of  a  boquet  ?  I  know  these 
Polish  women,  they  coquette  with  everything — above  all,  with  the  throes 
of  their  dying  fatherland." 

r     The  Emperor  Smiled,  but  said  nothing.     Ho  was  watching  the  return 
of  the  Marshal  of  the  household.  . 

"  Well,  Count,  what  is  her  name  ?"  cried  he  earnestly. 

"  Sire,  I  am  unable  to  find  it  out.  The  lady  has  left  the  theatre,  and 
no  one  here,  not  even  the  director,  knows  her  name." 

"  Strange,"  said  the  Emperor.  "  Let  a  messenger,  then,  be  sent  to 
Bernasconi :  she,  of  course,  must  know." 

"Pardon  me,  your  Majesty,  I  have  been  to  Bernasconi.  She  is  here, 
preparing  to  sing  her  second  air.  She  has  suddenly  recovered,  and  will 
have  the  honor  of  appearing  before  your  Majesties  in  a  few  moments." 

"  But  what  said  Bernasconi  of  the  Polish  singer  ?" 

"  She  does  not  know  her  name,  your  Majesty.  She  showed  me  a. let- 
ter froni  Colonel  Dumourriez,  the  French  Plenipotentiary  to  the  Polish 
Republic.  He  designates  her  only  as  a  Polish  lady  of  noble  birth, 
whose  remarkable  vocal  powers  were  worthy  of  your  Majesty's  admira- 
tion." 


ov; 


JOSEPH  THE  SECOND 


"  Do  you  hear  that  V*  said  Frederic  to  Kaunitz.  "  Do  fo\i  hear  that? 
The  French  Plenipotentiary  sends  this  Prima  Donna  to  sing  before  the 
Emperor.  Vraiment, it  seems  that  France  is  disgusted  with  war,  ar^d 
intends' to  try  her  hand  at  sentiment.  Petticoat-government  is  so  se- 
curely established  there,  that  I  suppose  the  French  are  about  to  throw 
the  petticoat  over  the  heads  of  their  allies.  FranxJe  and  Poland  are  two 
femmes  galantes.'''' 

"Yes,  sire,"  replied  Kaunitz,  "but  one  of  them  is  old  and  iigTy. 
Madame  La  Pologne  is  an  old  coquette  who  puts  on  youthful  airs,  and 
thinks  she  hides  her  wrinkles  with  paint." 

*'  Does  your  Highness  then  believe  that  her  youth  is  forever  past  ? 
Can  she  never  be  rejuvenated  V  asked  Frederic,  with  a  searching  look  at 
Kaunitz's  marble  feature?. 

"  Sire,  people  who  waste  their  youth  in  dissipation  and  rioting  have 
no  strength  when  the  day  of  real  warfare  dawns." 

"  And  it  would  seem  that  the  Empress  of  Russia  has  some  intientioa 
of  making  a  serious  attack  upon  the  poor  old  lady,"  said  Frederic,  while 
for' the  second  time,  he  took  a  pinch  frosa  the  snufT-box  of  the  crafty 
Austrian. 

Meanwhile  the  concert  was  going  on.  Bernasconi,  completely  restor- 
ed, sang  the  beautiful  air  from  Orpheus  aiid  Eurydice,  and  Frederic  ap- 
plauded  as  before.  But  the  Emperor  gat  silent  and  abstracted.  His 
thoughts  were  with  that  Polish  woman  whose  love  of  country  had  brought 
her  to  Neustadt  to  remind  him  of  the  promises  he  had  made  to  the  Coti- 
federatcs  at  Eperies. 

"  How  enthusiastically  she  loves  Poland  P'  said  he  to  himself.  "  She 
will  of  course  find  means  to  cross  my  path  again,  for  she  seeks  to  inter- 
est me  in  the  fate  of  her  Fatherland,  The  next  lime  she  comes  I  will 
do.  like  the  prince  in  the  fairy  tale,  I  will  strew  pitch  upon  the  thresh, 
hold,  that  she  may  not  be  able  to  escape  from  me  again." 

Kaunitz,  too,  was  pre-oc<;upied  with  thoughts  of  the  bewitching  Con- 
federate, but  the  fact  that  she  would  be  sure  to  come  again  was  hot  quite 
so  consoling  to  him  as  to  Joseph. 

As  soon  as  he  returned  home,  he  called  for  his  private  secretary,  who 
was  one  of  the  most  dexterous  detectives  in  Vienna. 

"You  will  make  enquiries  at  once  as  to  the  whereabout  of  the  prima 
donna  who  sang  before  me  and  their  Majesties  to-night.  To-morrow  at 
nine  o'clock  I  must  know  who  she  is,  where  she  lodges,  and  what  is  her 
bvjginees  here." 


--.WPLKoh    .-!■       L-Ji'. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

FREDEUIC  THE  GREAT  AND  rtXINTK  K.AIMTZ:. 

Tun  great  revieh',  which  had  been  gotten  up  in  honor  of  the  Kingiof 
Prussia,  was  over.  In  this  review  Frederic  had  become  acquainted  with 
the  strength  of  the  Austrian  acmy,  the  superiority  of  its  cavalry,  and 
the  military  capacity  of  the  Emperor  who  was  its  commander-in-chief. 

The  King  liad  been  loud  in  his  praises  of  all  three,  and  had  embraced 
the  Emperor  in  presence  of  the  whole  army. 

Immediately  after  the  review,  Frederic  sent  a  page  to  announce  to 
Prince  Kauuii7,  that  he  would  be  glad  to  see  him  in  his  own  private 
apartments. 

Kaunitz  at  once  declared  his  readiness  to  wait  upon  the  King,  and  to 
the  unspeakable  astonishment  of  his  valet,  had  actually  shortened  his 
toilet  and  had  betrayed  t<-ome  indilforcnce  to  the  arrangement  of  his /)pr- 
ruque.  As  he  left  the  room,  his  gait  was  elastic  and  active,  and  his 
coy,ntenanc<?  bore  visible  marks  of  the  excitement  with  which  he  waa 
looking  for.ward  to  the  .coming  interview. 

But  Kaunitz  himself  became  suddenly  aware  of  all  this,  and  hg^«et  to 
work  to  force  back  his-^  emotion.  The  nearer  he  came  to  the  Ring's 
suite  of  rooms,  the  slower  became  his  step  and  the  calmer  his  mien. 
At  last  it  was  tranquilized,  and  the  Minister  looked  almost  as  cold  and 
indill'erent  as  ever. 

Arrived  at  the  door  of  the  ante-chamber,  he  looked  around,  and  hav- 
ing convinced  himself  that  no  one  was  in  sight,  he  drew  from  his  breast- 
pocket a  small  mirror  which  he  always  wore  about  his  person.  Sharply 
he  viewed  himself  therein,  until  graduall3%  as  he  looked,  his  face  re- 
sumed the  stony  aspect  which  like  a  thickening  haze  concealed  his  emo- 
tions from  other  men's  eyes. 

"  It  is  really  not  worth  my  while,"  thought  he,  "  to  get  up  an  excite- 
ment because  I  am  about  to  have  a  conference  with  that  sniall  bit  of 
royalty,  Frederic.  If  he  should  discover  it,  he  might  suppose  that  I, 
like  the  rest  of  the  world,  am  abashed  in  the  presence  of  a  King  because 
he  has  some  military  ftime.  No — no — what  excites  me  is  the  fact  thnt 
I  am  about  to  write  a  bit  of  history  ;  for  this  interview  between  Prus- 
sia and  Austria  will  be  historical.  It  is  the  fate  of  Europe — that  fstc 
which  1  hold  in  my  hands,  that  stirs  me  with  such  unwonted  emotion. 
This  King  of  Prussia  has  nothing  to  do  with  it.  No  doubt  he  hopes  to 
hoodwink  me  with  flattery,  but  J  shall  work  him  to  ,mij  ends,  and  force 
him  to  that  line  of  policy  which  I  have  long  ago  laid  down  for  Austria's 
^welfare."  '.  .j,,, 


54  .loSKFli  IHK  ;5£(.;uM*. 

Here  the  mirror  was  returned  to  his  pocket,  and  he  opened  the  door, 
of  the  ante-roona.  The  sweet  sounds  of  a  flute  broke  in  upon  his  ear  as 
he  entered.  The  King's  Aid-de-Camp  came  up  and  whispered  that  his 
sovereign  was  accustomed  to  play  on  the  flute  daily,  and  that  he  never 
Ikiled  even  when  in  camp  to  solace  his  solitude  with  music. 

Prince  Kaunitz  answered  with  a  shrug,  and  pointing  to  the  door,  said, 
'•Annoiyice  me  to  his  Mnjesty." 

The  Aid-de-Camp  opened  the  door  and  announced  his  Highness, 
Prince  Kaunitz. 

The  flute  ceased,  and  the  rich,  musical  voice  of  Frederic  was  heard  to 
say,  "  He  can  enter." 

Kaunitz  was  i^ot  much  pleased  to  receive  a  permission  where  he  fan- 
cied himself  entitled  to  an  invitation,  but  he  had  no  alternative,  so  he 
walked  languidly  forward  while  the  officer  held  the  door  open, 

"  Shut  the  door  and  admit  no  one  during  the  visit  of  Prince  Kaunitz," 
said  the  King.  Then  turning  to  the  Prince,  he  pointed  to  his  flute.  "  I 
suspect  you  arc  amused  to  see  such  an  old  fellow  as  I  coquetting  with 
the  fine  arts,  but  I  assure  you  that  my  flute  is  one  of  my  trustiest  friends. 
She  has  never  deceived  me,  and  keeps  my  secrets  faithfully.  My  al- 
liance with  her  is  for  life.  Ask  her  and  she  will  tell  you  that  we  live 
on  terms  of  truest  friendship." 

— "Unhappily  I  do  not  understand  the  language  of  your  lady-love. 
Your  Majesty  will  perhaps  allow  me  to  turn  my  attention  to  another 
one  of  your  feminine  allies,  towards  whom  I  shall  venture  to  question 
your  Miajesty's  good  faith." 

"Of  what  lady  do  you  speak?"  cried  Frederic' eagerly. 

"  Of  the  Empress  Catharine,"  replied  Kaunitz,  slightly  inclining  his 
head. 

"  Oh !"  said  the  King,  laughing,  "  you  dart  like  an  arrow  to  the  point, 
and  transfix  me  at  once  upon  the  barb  of  politics.  Let  us  sit  down  then. 
The  arm-chair  which  you  are  taking  now  may  boast  hereafter  that  it  is 
the  courser  which  has  carried  the  greatest  statesman  in  Europe  to  a  field 
where  he  is  sure  to  win  new  victories." 

Kaunitz  was  careful  to  seat  himself  at  the  same  time  as  the  Kiag,  and 
they  both  sat  before  a  table  covered  with  charts,  papers  and  books. 

A  short  pause  ensued.  Both  were  collecting  their  energies  for  the 
strife.  The  King,  with  his  eagle-eye,  gazed  upon  the  face  of  the  astute 
diplomatist,  while  he,  pretending  not  to  see  it,  looked  perfectly  oblivious 
of  Kings  or  Emperors. 

"  So  you  will  ask  of  Catherine  whether  I  am  3;  loykl  ally  or  pot  ?"  as- 
ked the  King  at  last. 

"Yes,  sire,  for  unluckily  the  Empress  of  Russia  is  the  one  who  can 
give  me  information." 

"  Why  unluckily  ?" 

"Because  I  grieve  to  see  that  a  German  Prhice  is  willing  to  form  al- 
liances with  her.  who,  if  she  could,  would  bring  all  Europe  under  her 
yoke,  and  make  every  European  Sovereign  her  vassal,     Russia  grows 


iiMPiiliOR  **F  ALSTKIA 

hourly  more  dangerous  and  more  grasping.  She  foments  discord  and 
jncites  wars,  for  she  finds  her  fortune  in  the  dissentious  of  other  nalfons, 
and  at  ©very  misunderstanding  between  other  powers  she  makes  a  step 
towards  the  goal  whither  she  travels." 

"And  what  is  that  goal  ?" 

"The  subjugation  of  all  Europe,"  cried  Kaunitz,  with  unusual  warmth. 
"  Russia's  policy  is  that  of  unprincipled  ambition  ;  and  if  so  flir  she  has 
not  progressed  in  her  lust  of  dominion,  it  is  Austria,  or  rather  the  poli- 
cy which  I  dictate  to  Austria,  that  has  checked  her  advance.  It  is  I  who 
have  restored  the  balance  of  power,  by  conquering  Austria's  aniipathy 
to  France,  by  isolating  haughty  England,  and  uniting  all  Europe  against 
rapacious  Russia.  But  Russia  never  loses  sight  of  the  policy  initiated 
by  Peter  the  Great,  and  as  I  have  stemmed  the  tide  of  her  aggression 
towards  the  west,  it  is  overflowing  towards  the  south  and  the  east.  All 
justice  disregarding,  Russian  armies  occupy  Poland,  and  before  long  tho 
ships  of  Rus'sia  will  swarm  in  the  Black  Sea  and  threaten  Constaniino- 
ple.  Russia  is  per  force  a  robber,  for  she  is  internally  exhausted,  and 
unless  she  seeks  new  ports  for  her  commerce,  and  new  sources  of  reve- 
nue, she  is  ruined." 

"You  err,  I  assure  you,"  cried  Frederic,  eagerly,  "Russia  is  in  a  con- 
dition to  sustain  any  burthen  ;  her  revenues  this  year  show  an  increase 
over  the  last  of  five  hundreci  thousand  rubles." 

"Then  this  increase  comes  probably  from  the  million  of  subsidy 
which  your  Majesty  has  agreed  to  pay  to  Russia,"  said  Kaunitz,  bow- 
ing.* Such  rich  tribute  may  well  give  her  strength  to  attempt  anything  ; 
but  every  thaler  which  your  Majesty  pays  into  her  treasury  is  a  fire- 
brand which  will  one  day  consume  all  Europe.  If  indeed,  as  you  say, 
Russia  is  strong  and  formidable,  it  is  for  your  Majesty  to  hold  her  iti 
check  ;  if  she  is  exhausted,  her  alliance  is  not  worth  having."| 

"Your  Highness  seems *ager  to  have  me  break  off  my  connection 
with  Russia,"  said  the  King,  while  a  cloud  passed  over  his  face.  "  You 
wish  to  prove  that  Russia  is  a  power  nvhose  friendship  is  worthless  and 
whose  enmity  is  to  be  despised.  And  yet  it  is  well  known  to  me  how 
zealously  the  Austrian  Ambassador  was  intriguir^^  not  long  ago  to^  in- 
duce Russia  to  cast  me  aside  and  enter  into  an  alliance  with  you.  Your 
.Highness  must  excuse  me  if  I  throw  aside  the  double-edged  blade  of 
courtly  dissimulation.  I  am  an  old  soldier  and  my  tongue  refuses  to 
vutter  anything  but  unvarnished  truth." 

"If  your  Majesty  permits,"  replied  Kaunitz  with  some  warmth,  "I, 
too,  will  speak  the  unvarnished  truth.  You  are  pleased  to  charge  me 
with  seeking  to  alienate  Russia  from  Prussia  while  striving  to  promote 
an  alliance  of  the  former  with  Austria.  Will  your  Majesty  allow  me 
to  reply  to  this  accusation  in  full  without  interruption  1" 

"  1  will,"  replied  Frederic,  nodding  his  head.  "  Speak  on,  I  shnll  not 
put  in  a  word." 

*  Ferrand ;  History  of  the  dismemberment  of  Poland,  Vol.  1,  p.  81. 
t  Kannitz's  own  words.    Ferrand,  vol.  1,  pa^e  108. 


ijtj  JOSEPH  THk  SEOO.Nb 


CHAPTER  XIV. 
rvUsaiA  A  vo-z  to  all  EtKorr. 

Prin-ck  Katjnitz  remained  silent  for  a  time,  as  ibough  he  were  turn- 
ing over  in  hie  mind  wiiat  he  shorld  say.  to  the  King.  Then  slowly 
raising  his  head,  he  met  the  scrutinizing  glaaice  of  Frederic  with  perfect 
composure,  and  spoke  as  follows :         , 

"  At  the  conclusion  of  the  unhappy  war  which  desolated .  both  it"bs-f 
'  tria  and  Prussia,  I  had  to  consider  what  course  for  the  future  was  likely 
to  recuperate  the  prostrate  energies  of  Austria.  I  resolved  in  my  mind 
various  scheme?  and  laid  them  before  her  imperial  Majesty.  The  one 
which  I  advocated  and  which  was  adopted  by  the  Empress -had  mainly 
/or  its  object  the  pacification  of  all  European  broils  and  the  restoration 
of  the  various  Austrian  dependencies  to  order  and  prosperityi  For 
some  time  I  waited  to  see  whether  your  Majesty  would  not  seek  to  con- 
ciliate France,  and  renew  5'our  old  league  of  friendship  with  her  King. 
But  the  policy  pursued  by  your  Majesty  at  the  Court  of  Russia. convin- 
ed  me  that  you  were  thinking  exclusively  of  securing  your  provinces  in 
the -east.  This  once  understood,  it  became  the  interest  of  Austria  to 
rivet  the  links  which  bound  her  to  France  ;  for  an  alliance  with  her  of- 
fered the  same  advantages  to  us,  as  that  of  Rufjsia  did  to  Prussia. 
Moreover  it  was  Austria's  opinion  that  Prussia  was  now  too  closely 
bound  to  Russia  for  her  ever  to  seek  an  alliance  with  France.  It  there- 
fore appeared  that  our  good  understanding  with  the  latter  would  con- 
duce to  preserve  the  balance  of  power  among  European  nations,  and 
that  it  would  meet  with  the  favor  of  all  those  potentates  who  were  anx- 
ious for  peace.  •  It  follows  thence  that  the  court*  of  Vienna  is  perfectly 
content  with  her  relations  towards  France  ;  and  I  expressly  and  distinct- 
ly declare  to  your  Majesty  that  we  will  never  seek  to  alienate  Russia 
from  Prussia,  that  we  will  never  encourage  any  advances  from  Russia, 
and  that  your  Majesty  may  rest  assured  that  we  will  never  deviate  from 
our  present  line  of  policy.  This  was  what  I  desired  to  explain,  and  i 
thank  your  Majesty  for  the  courtesy  with  which  you  have  listened  to 

TOfe."*    , 

The  face  of  the  King,  which  at  first  had  looked  distrustful,  was  now 
entirely  free  from  suspicion.  He  rose  from  his  chair  and  giving  his 
hand  to  Kaunitz,  said  with  a  cordial  smile, 

"This  is  wha;t  I  call  noble  and  candid  statesmanship.  You  have  not 
spoken  as  a  diplomatist  but  as  a  great  minister  who,  feeling  his  strength, 

♦  This  diMonrse  of  Kaunitz's  iB  historicsl.    It  i%  found  in  Ferrand'8  Hiatoire  des  trois  Dieinembre^ 

iment  do  )3  TologDO.    Tomel.p.  112.  '    '  .     . 


has  uo  reason  to  conceal  his  actions.  I  will  answer  in  the  same  Bplrit. 
Sit  down  again  and  hear  nf>e.  You  tear  Russia,  and  think  that  if  she 
g;iins  too  great  nn  ascendancy  among  nations,  she  will  use  it  to  the  de- 
Ucment  of  all  Kurope.  1  agree  with  you,  and  1  myself  would  view  t.h« 
npi^randizcment  of  Jkussia  nndor  Catharine  with  disapprobation  and  dis- 
trust. You  are  right,  and  1  feel  the  embarrassment  of  my  present  pp- 
flitical  condition.  At  the  commencement  of  this  Turkish  war,  I  would 
have  used  my  honest  endeavors  to  check  the  usurping  advances  of  Rus- 
sia not  only  in  Turkey  but  also  in  Poland.  But  I  myself  Avas  in  a  crit-' 
ical  position.  You,  who  had  been  represented  to  me  as  the  most  rapa- 
cious of  diplomatists,  you  had  prejudiced  all  Europe  against  me,  so  that 
for  seven  long  years  ni}'  only  allies  were  my  rights  and  my  good  sword. 
The  only  hand  reached  out  to  me  was  that  of  Russia;  policy  constrain- 
cd  me  to  grasp  and  retain  it.  It  is  both  to  my  honor  and  my  interest 
that  I  keep  faith  with  Russia,  and  eschew  all  shifts  and  tergiversations 
in  my  dealings  with  her.  Her  alliance  is  advantages  to  Prussia,  and 
therefore  1  pay  her  large  subsidies,  give  her  advice,  allow  my  officers  to 
enlist  in  her  armies,  and  finally  I  have  promised  the  Empress  that  should 
Austria  interfere  in  behalf  of  the  Turks,  I  will  use  all  my  influence  to 
mediate  between  you."* 

— "  i")oes  that  m^an  that  if  Russia  and  Austria  should  go  to  war,  your 
Majesty  will  stand  by  the  former  1"  , 

— "  It  means  that  I  will  make  every  effort  to  prevent  a  war  between 
Russia  and  Austria.  If  in  spite  of  all  that  1  could  do  there -should  be 
war  between  you,  it  would  not  be  possible  for  Prussia  to  remain  neu- 
tral. Were  she  to  do  so,  she  would  deserve  the  contempt  both  of  friend 
and  foe.  I  would  fulfil  my  obligations  to  Russia  that  I  might  secure  the 
duration  of  our  alliance.  But  1  sincerely  hope  that  it  may  be  my  good 
fortune  to  mediate  with  such  results  as  will  spare  me  the  espousal  of 
either  party's  quarrel." 

"  If  .so,  Russia  must  abandon  her  ambitious  projects  in  Turkey,  andf 
she  must  speedily  consent  to  secure  peace  to  Poland,"  replied  Kaunilz 
warmly. 

,    The  King  smiled,  and  takiiig  from  the  table  a  sealed  paoket,  he  pre- 
sented it  to  Kaunitz. 

"  A  letter  for  me  !"  exclaimed  the  Minister  surprised. 

''Yes,  your  Highness.  A  few  moments  before  you  came  hither,  a 
<iourier  arrived  from  Constantinople  with  .despatches  for  you  and  for  me." 

— "  Does  your  Majesty  allow  me  to  open  them?" 

— "  I  request  you  to  read  them  while  I  read  mine,  which  are,  as  yet, 
unopened.  1  have  only  read  the  report  of  my  Ambassador  at  Constan- 
tinople.    Let  us  see  what  news  we  have." 

The  King,  with  a  smiling  inclination  of  the.  head,  settled  himself  in 
hts  arm-chair,  and  began  to  read.    • 

A  long  pause  etisued.  Both  tf^ied  to  seem  absorbed  in  the  dispatches 
from  Turkey-,  yet  eac.h  one  gave  now  and  then  a. hasty,  furtive  glance  at 

*  ZV^bm's  Memoirs  of  MyTimei;  vol.1,  page  466. 


58  JOSEPH  THE  .SECOND. 

the  other.  If  their  eyes  met,  they  were  quickly  cast  down  again,  and 
■so  they  continued  to  watch  and  read  until  there  was  no  more  excuse  for 
silence. 

"  Bad  news  from  Turkey,"  said  Frederic,  speaking  first,  and  putting 
down  his  letters. 

"  The  Porte  has  been  unfortunate,"  said  Kaunitz,  shrugging  his  .shoul- 
ders and  looking  perfectly  indifferent.  "Russia  has  not  only  gained  a 
great  victory  on  land,  but  has  defeated  him  at  sea,  and  has  burnt  his 
fleet." 

"The  consequence  of  all  this  is,  that  Turkey  now  turns  to  Austria 
and  Prussia  for  help,"  replied  the  King.  Upon  our  intervention  now, 
hangs  the  peace  of  all  Europe.  We  have  a  most  important  mission  to 
perform." 

"Your  Majesty  intends  to  undertake  it?"  asked  Kaunitz,  carelessly. 

— "I  am  resolved  to  do  all  that  I  can  to  prevent  war.  It  is  such  a 
terrible  scourge,  that  no  nation  has  a  right  to  fold  her  hands  and  see  its 
horrors,  if  by  any  step  of  hers  it  can  be  averted  or  stopped.  Turkey 
asks  for  intervention,  that  she  may  be  restored  to  the  blessings  of  peace. 
Shall  we  refuse  her?" 

"  Austria  cannot  mediate  in  this  affair  unless  Russia  first  proposes  it," 
said  Kaunitz,  in  a  listless  tone.  The  Court  of  Vienna  cannot  make 
propositions  to  Russia,  It,  therefore,  rests  with  your  Majesty  to  induce 
the  Empress  Catharine  to  make  the  same  request  of  Austria,  as  Turkey 
has  made  of  us  both." 

"  I  will  propose  it  to  the  Empress,"  said  the  King,  eagerly,  "  aifd  I 
feel  sure  that  fehe  will  agree  to  do  so."  ,       ' 

Kaunitz  bowed  loftily.  "  Then,"  replied  he,  "  Austria  will  mediate  ; 
but^let  it  be  understood  that  the  peace  is  to  be  an  honorable  one  for 
Turkey,  and  that  Russia  ceases  any  further  aggression  in  that  quarter." 

"  The  Porte  will  be  under  the  necessity  of  making  some  concessions," 
said  the  King,  "since  he  it  is,  whose  arms  have  sustained  reverses.  But 
Turkey  may  still  remain  a  second-rate  power,  for  I  think  that  Russia 
will  be  satisfied  with  the  Crimea  and  the  Black  Sea  for  herself,  and  a 
guarantee  of  independent  sovereigns  for  Wallachia  and  Moldavia." 

"  Independent  Princes  appointed  by  Russia  !"  cried  Kaunitz.  ■  "  My 
imperial  Sovereign  will  never  consent  to  have  a  Russian  province  con- 
tiguous to  Austria ;  and  should  Moldavia  and  Wallachia  be  governed 
by  Hospodars  and  petty  despots,  their  pretended  independence  would 
soon  melt  away  into  a  Russian  dependency.  Austria,  too,  would  esteem 
it  a  great  misfortune  if  Russia  should  come  into  possession  of  the  Cri- 
mea and  the  Black  Sea.  Her  dominion  over  the  Black  Sea  would  be 
more  dangerous  to  Europe  than  an  extension  of  her  territory.  Nothing, 
in  short,  would  be  so  fatal  to  that  independence,  which  is  dear  to  all 
nations,  as  the  cession  of  this  important  outlet  to  Russia."* 

"Your  Highness  may  be  right,"  sard  the  King,  "and  Austria  has  more 
to  fear  from  this   dominion  than  Russia;  for  the -Danube  is  a  finger  of 
*  The  Prince's  osvn  words.    Ferrand  1,  page  112. 


L-MPEROR  OK  AUSTRIA.  59 

the  Black  Sea,  ^vhich  might  be  used  to  seize  some  of  yciur  fairest  pro- 
vinces. We  vwll  keep  this  in  view  when  we  cnler  upon  our  negotia- 
tions with  Ku«J;ia." 

I ''Before  we  begin  them  at  ali^  we  must  exact  of  Russia  to  restore 
peace  to  Poland." 

"Ah,  you  wish  to  draw  Poland  into  the  circle  of  interveutiou,"  said 
Frederic,  laughing. 

"  The  Court  of  Vieruia  cannot  suffer  Russia  to  oppress  this  unfortu- 
nate people  as  she  has  hitherto  done.  Not  only  has  she  forced  Stanis- 
laus Augustus  upon  them,  but  she  has  also  compelled  them  to  alter  their 
constitutioc,  and  in  the  face  of  all  justice,  her  armies  occupy  Poland, 
devastating  the  country,  and  oppressing  both  royalists  and  republicans." 

"You  are  resolved  to  speak  of  Poland,"  said  Frederic,  again  taking 
so  large  a  pinch  of  snuff  that  it  bedaubed  not  only  his  face,  but  his  white 
Austrian  uniform.  He  brushed  it  oft'  with  his  lingers,  and  shaking  his 
head,  said, 

"  I  "in  not  neat  enough  to  wear  this  elegant  dress.  I  am  not  worthy 
of  wearing  the  Austrianl  ivery."*  He  then  resumed :  "  You  interest 
yourself  in  Poland.  /  thought  that  Polish  independence  had  been 
thrown  to  the  winds.  I  thought,  also,  that  your  Highness  was  ot  the 
same  opinion  on  this  question  as  the  Empress  Catharine,  who  says  that 
she  neither  knows  where  Polish  territory  begins  nor  where  it  ends. — 
Now  I  am  equally  at  a  loss  to  know  what  is  and  what  is  not  Poland,  for 
in  Warsaw  a  Russian  army  seems  to  be  perfectly  at  home,  and  in  the 
south  of  Poland  an  Austrian  regiment  affirm  that  they  occupy  Polish 
ground  by  <iommand  of  the  Austrian  government. 

**  Your  Majesty  is  pleased  to  speak  of  the  country  of  Zips.  Zips  has 
always  belonged  to  Hungary*  It  was  mortgaged  by  the  Emperor  Siges- 
mund  to  his  brother-in-law  Wladislaw  Jagello,  for  a  sum  of  money. — 
Hungary  has  never  parted  with  her  right  to  this  country ;  and,  as  we 
have  been  compelled  to  send  troops  to  our  frontier  to  watch  Russia,  the 
opportunity  presents  itself  for  us  to  demonstrate  to  Poland  that  Austria 
can  never  consent  to  regard  a  mor'tgaged  province  as  one  either  given 
or  sold.  Zips  belongs  to  Austria,  and  we  will  pay  back  to  the  King  of 
Poland  the  sum  for  which  it  was  mortgaged.     That  is  all." 

"  Yes,  but  it  will  be  difficult  not  only  for  Poland,  but  for  all  Europe, 
which  is  accustomed  to  consider  Zips  as  Polish  territory,  to  remember 
your  Highness's  new  boundaries.  I,  for  my  part,  do  not  understand  it, 
and  I  will  be  much  obliged  to  you  if,  according  to  your  new  order  of 
things,  you  will  show  me  where  Hungary  ends  and  Poland  begins." 

"  Where  the  county  of  Zips  ends,  and  where  the  boundaries  of  Hun- 
gary began  in  olden  times,  there  the  line  that  separates  Austria  from  Po- 
land, should  be  drawn." 

"Ah!"  sighed  the  King,  "you  speak  of  the  olden  time.  But  with 
regard  to  the  present  we  must  settle  all  these  things  now.  1  happen,  by 
chance,  to  have  a  map  of  Poland  on  my  table."  Oblige  me  now,  by 
♦The  Prince's  own  word.    Fcrrrtnd,  p«(?ellS. 


(jii  lO^EPH  TH£  .SECOND 

?!howing  rae  Poland,  as  your  Highness  understands  its  boundarieis,''" 

^  The  Kiug  stood  up,  and  unfolding  a  map,  laid  it  on  the  table.     K»u- 
nitz  also  rose  and  stood  on  the  opposite  side. 

"  Now,"  said  Frederic,  "let  me  se^,  the  county  of  Zips." 


CHAPTER  XV. 

THE    MAP    OF    POLAND. 

*' Here,  your  Majesty,  is  Zips"  said  Kaunitz,  as  he  passed  his  deli- 
cate white  finger  over  the  lower  part  of  the  map. 

The  King  leaned  over  and  looked  thoughii'ully  at  the  moving  finger. 
For  some  time  he  kept  silence,  then  he  raised  his  head  and  met  the 
gaze  of  the  Prince. 

"A  very  pretty  piece  of  land  which  Austria  takes  from  her  neighbor," 
said  he.  with  a  piercing  glance  at  Kaunitz. 

"Austria  lakes  nothing  from  lier  neighbor,  sire,  except  th»it  whicli 
belongs  to  her,"  replied  Kaunitz,  q\]ietly.  . ,'  i  , 

"  How  very  fortunate  it  is  that  this  particular  piece  of  land-^-hould  be- 
long to  Austria,"  said  the  King,  with  a  slight  sneer.  You  see  th.tt  Pojand, 
who,  for  so  many  centuries,  had  supposed  herself  to  be  the  rightful  owner 
of  the  Zips,  has,  in  virtue  of  such  ownership,  projected  beyond  the  Car- 
pathian Mountains  quite  to  the  interior  of  Hungary.  Now  a  wedge  of 
that  sort  is  inconvenient,  perhaps  dangerous,  and  it  is  lucky  for  Austria 
that  she  -has  found  out  her  right  of  possession  in  that  quarter.  It  not 
only  coniracts  her  neighbor's  domains,  but  essentially  increases  her  own. 
It  now  concerns  Austria  to  prove  to  Europe  her  right  to  this  arinexation, 
for  Europe  is  somewhat  astonished  to  hear  of  it." 

"  In  the  Court-chancery,  at  Vienna,  are  the  documents  to  prove  that 
the  Zips  was  mortgaged  by  the  Emperor  Sigesmund  to  his  brother-in-law 
Wladislaw,  io  the  year  1412,  for  the  sum  of  thirty-seven  thousand 
groschen. 

"Since  1412!"  cried  J'rederic.  "Three  hundred  and  eighty-five 
years' possession  on  the  part  of  Poland  has  not  invalidated  the  title  of 
Austria  to  the  Zips!  My  lawful  claim  to  Silesia  was  of  more  modern 
date  than  this,  and  yet  Austria  would  have  made  it  appear  that  it  was 
superanuated." 

"  Your  Majesty  has  proved,  conclusively,  that  it  was  not  so,"  replied 
Kaunitz,  with  a  slight  inclination  of  the  head. 

"  Will  Austria  take  the  course  which  I  pursued  to  vindicate  my 
right?"  asked  the  King,  quickly. 


EMPEROR  OF  AUsTRlA.  61 

"Stanislaus  will  not  allow  us  to  proceed  to  extremitios,"  replied  the 
Prince.  "  'JViie,  he  complained  at  first,  and  wrote  to  the  Empress-Queen 
to  demand  what  be  callt-d  jristii-e." 

— •'  And  will  }'oiir  Hlghne>s  inform  me  \\hat  the  Enapress-Queen  re- 
plied in  answer  to  these  demands  ]" 

"  She  wrote  to  the  King  of  P<)land  that  the  time  had  arrived  when  it 
became  incumbent  upon  her  to  define  the  boundaries  of  her  Empire.— 
That,  in  her  anne.xation  of  the  Zips  to  Austria,  she  was  actuated,  not  by 
any  lust  of  territorial  aggrandizement,  but  by  a  conviction  of  her  jnst 
and  inalienable  rights.  Slie  was  prepared,  not  only  to  assert,  but  to 
defend  them  ;  and  &he  took  this  opportunity  to  define  the  lines  of  her 
frontier,  for  the  reason  that  Poland  was  in  a  state  of  internal  warfare, 
the  end  of  which,  no  man  could  foresee.'"* 

"if  I  were  King  of  Poland,  such  plain  language  as  this  would  put  me 
on  my  auard." 

"Sire,  if  you  were  King  of  Polftnd,  no  foreign  power  would  employ 
such  language  towards  you,"  said  Kannitz,  with  half  a  smile. 

"  That  is  true,"  replied  the  King,  shaking  his  head.  "  Thi>  King  of 
Poland  is  a  weak,  good-natured  fellow.  He  cannot  forget  that  he  ha^ 
been  the  lover  of  Catharine  of  Russia,  and,  I  verily  believe,  that  if  she 
were  to  make  a  sign,  he  would  lay,  not  only  hfmself,  but  all  Poland  at 
her  feet." 

"  A,ustria  would  never  sufler  her  to  accept  it,"  cried  Kaunitz. 

The  1  King  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  And  yet  it  would  api^ear  that 
when  ^ips  lay  at  her  feet,  the  Empress  of  Austria  was  rea^iy  to  em- 
brace n.  But  everybody  grows  eccentric  when  Poland  is  in  question. 
My  brother  Henry,  who  is  in  St.  Petersburg,  was  one  day  discussing 
this  matter  of  the  annexation  of  Zips,  with  the  Empress.  As  Catharine, 
like  myself,  has  never  had  the  privilege  of  examining  the  records  in  the 
.Court  of  Chancery,  at  Vienna,  she  expressed  some  doubt  as  to  the  jus- 
tice of  Austria's  appropriation  in  that  quarter.  '  It  seerhs,' said  the, 
'as  if  one  had  nothing  to  do  but  stoop  down  to  pick  up  something  in 
Poland. 'f  Now  when  proud  Austria  and  her  lofty  Kaunitz  condescend 
to  stoop  and  pick  up,  why  shall  not  other  people  fcMIow  their  example? 
J,  too,  shall  be  obliged  to  march  my  troops  into  Poland,  for  every  mis- 
fortune seems  about  to  visit  this  unhappy  land.  Who  knOws  that  in 
the  archives  at  Berlin,  there  may  not  be  some  document  to  prove  that 
I,  also,  have  a  right  to  extend  the  lines  of  my  frontier?" 

While  Frederic  spoke,  he  kept  his  eyes  fixed  upon  the  face  of  Prince 
Kaunitz,  as  though  he  would  have  read  to  the  very  bottom  of  his  soul. 
The  latter  pretended  not  to  be  aware  of  it ;  he  looked  perfectly  blank 
while  he  affected  to  be  stiir interested  in  examining  the  map. 

"  It  would  be  fortunate  if  your  Majesty  could  discover  such  docu- 
ments m  your  archives,"  replied  he,  coolly.    "  I  have  been  toJd  that  you 

*  Ferrand  I,  page  94. 

*  BWhicre's  uUtorr  of  I'oland:  t<^.4.  pa^  310, 


^2  JOSEPH  THE  SECOND. 

have,  heretofore,  sought  for  them  in  Warsaw ;  unhappily  without  being 
abl-e  to  find  any."  i 

The  King  could  not  repress  a  slight  start  as  he  heard  this  revelation 
of  his  own  machinations.  Kaunitz  again  affected  to  see  nothing,  al- 
though he  was  looking  directly  an  the  King's  eyes. 

"  1  say,"  continued  Kaunitz,  "  that  it  would  be  most  fortunate  if,  just 
at  this  thne,  your  Majesty  could  recover  your  titles  to  that  portion  of 
Poland  which  lies  contiguous  to  Russia.  Austria,  I  assure  you,  will 
place  no  difficulties  in  the  way." 

•"  Really,"  replied  the  King,  "  I  must  say  that  these  lines  form  a  bet- 
ter natural  frontier  than  my  present  boundaries."  Here  he  passed  his 
hand  somewhere  through  the  north-western  provinces  of  Poland,  while 
he  continued :  "  Would  my  word  suffice  if  I  were  to  say  to  Austria  that 
the  documents,  proving  my  right  to  this  territory,  are  to  be  found  in  the 
archives  at  Berlin  1" 

*'  Your  Majesty's  word,  as  regards  this  question,  is  worth  more  than 
the  documents,"  said  Kaunitz,  deliberately. 

— "  But  what  would  Catharine  say  1  ^he  who  looks  upon  Poland  as 
her  own  ?"  -        ' 

"  If  she  says  anything  it  is  high  time  she  were  undeceived  in  that  re- 
spect," said  Kaunitz,  hastily.  "  She  must  be  satisfied  to  share  equally 
with  others.  Your  Majesty  was  pleased  to  relate  to  me  a  portion  of  the 
conversation  between  the  Empress  and  Prince  Henry.  The  Empress 
said,  "  It  .seems  as  if  one  had  nothing  to  do  but  stoop  down  to  pick  up 
something  in  Poland.'  But  you  forgot  the  sequel.  She  adde^S  these 
words :  '  If  the  Court  of  Vienna  begins  the  dismemberment  of  Poland, 
I  think  that  her  neighbors  have  a  right  to  continue  it.'  "* 

"  Vraiment^  your  Highness  has  trusty  reporters  and  your  agents  serve 
you  admirably  !"  exclaimed  the  King. 

Kauniti;  bowed  haughtily. 

"  V/e  are  your  Majesty's  imitators,"  replied  he.  "  First  during  the 
Silesian  war,  then  at  the  Court  of  Dresden,  we  learned  from  you  the 
value  of  secret  information,!  Having  been  apprised  of  the  remarkable 
words  of  the  Empress,  I  began  to  fear  that  she  might  encroach  upon 
Poland  without  regard  to  the  claims  of  Austria,  Your  Majesty  is  aware 
that  the  Russian  army  occupy  Warsaw,  and  that  a  cordon  of  Russian 
troops  extend  as  far  as  the  frontiers  of  Turkey." 
.  "  And  if  I  draw  my  cordon  beyond  the  district  of  Netz,"  cried  the 
king,  drawing  his  finger  across  the  map  as  if  it  had  been  a  sword,  "  and 
Austria  extends  her  frontiers  beyond  Galicia  and  the  Zips,  the  Republic 
of  Poland  will  occupy  but  a  small  space  on  the  map  of  Europe." 

— "  The  smaller  the  better ;  the  fewer  Poles  there  are  in  the  world 
the  less  strife  there  will  be.     The  cradle  of  the.  Poles  is  that  apple  of 

^La  Roche  Aymon :  Vie  du  Prince  Henri,  p.  ITl. 

tTlirough  his  Ambassador  at  Dresden,  Frederic  had  bribed  the  keeper  of  the  Saxon  arcMivcg  to 
send  him  copies  of  the  secret  treaties  between  Austria  and  Saxony.  He  did  even  worse,  for  the  at- 
tache of  the  Austrian  embassy  at  Berlin  was  in  his  pay,  and  he  eent  the  King  copies  of  all  the  Aus- 
trian dispatcheg.— [L,  Muhlbach,    Life  of  Frederic  the  ©rest. 


EMPEROR  OF  AUSTRIA.  63 

discord  which  Eris  once  threw  upon  the  table  of  the  Gods ;  they  were 
born  of  its  seeds,  and  disscuiion  is  their  native  element.  As  long  as 
there  lives  a  Pole  on  the  earth,  that  Pole  will  breed  trouble  among  his 
nbighbors." 

"  Ah  !"  said  the  King,  taking  a  pinch  of  snufT,  "  atid  yet  your  High- 
ness was  indignant  at  Catharine  because  she  would  force  the  Poles  to 
keep  the  peace.  She  appears  to  7ne  to  be  entirely  of  one  m'nd  with 
yourself.  She,  too,  looks  upon  Poland  as  the  apple  of  Eris  and  she  haff 
found  it  so  over-ripe  that  it  is  in  danger  of  falling  from  the  tree.  She 
has  stationed  her  gardener,  Stanislaus,  to  guard  it.  Let  him  watch  over 
it.  It  ijelongs  to  him,  and  if  it  come  to  the^  ground,  he  has  nobody  to 
blame  but  himself.  Meanwhile  should  it  burst,  we  will  find  means  to 
prevent  it  from  soiling  us.- Now  let  us  speak  of  Turkey.  That  un- 
lucky Porte  must  have  something  done  for  him,  and  while  we  mediate 
in  his  behalf,  I  hope  to  bring  about  a  good  understanding  between  Aus- 
tria and  Russia.  Let  us  do  our  best  to  promote  a  general  peace.  Eu- 
rope is  bleeding  at  every  pore  ;  let  us  bind  up  her  wounds  and  restore 
her  to  health." 

"  Austria  is  willing  to  promote  the  general  welfare,"  replied  Kaunitz, 
following  the  King's  example  and  rising  from  his  chair,  "  but  first  Rus- 
sia must  conclude  an  honorable  peace  with  Turkey,  and  she  must  aban- 
don he^  rapacious  designs  upon  the  rest  of  Europe.  But  should  the 
Empress  of  Russia  compel  us  to  war  with  her  on  this  question,  we  will 
not  have  recourse  to  arms  until  we  have  found  means  to  alienate  from 
her  the  most  formidable  of  her  allies." 

The  King  laughed.  "  I  approve  your  policy,"  said  he,  "  but  I  am  cu- 
rious to  know  how  you  would  manage  to  prevent  me  from  keeping  my 
Avord.  I  am  certainly  pledged  to  Russia,  but  I  hope  that  the  negotia- 
tions into  which  we  are  about  to  enter  will  end  in  peace.  I  shall  send 
a  resume  of  our  conference  to  the  Empress,  and  use  every  effort  to  es- 
tablish friendly  relations  between  you."  . 

"  Will  your  Majesty  communicate  her  reply  to  me?"  asked  Kaunitz. 

"  I  certainly  will ;  for  I  am  a  soldier,  not  a  diplomatist;,  and  I  am  so 
much  in  love  with  Truth  that  I  shall  be  her  devotee  until  the  last  mo- 
ment of  my  life." 

"  Ah,  sire,  a  man  must  be  a  hero  like  yourself  to  have  the  courage  to 
love  so  dangerous  a  mistress.  Truth  is  a  rose  with  a  thousand  thorns. 
He  who  plucks  it  will  be  wounded,  and  woe  to  the  head  of  him  who 
wears  it  ia  his  crown  !" 

"  You  and  I  have  fought  and  bled  too  often  on  the  field  of  diplomacy 
to  be  tender  about  our  heads.  Let  us  then  wear  the  crown  of  truth  and 
bear  with  its  thorns." 

So  saying,  the  King  reached  out  his  hand  and  Kaunitz  took  his 
leave. 

After  the  Prince  had  leffc  the  room,  Frederic  remained  for  a  few  min- 
utes listening  until  he  heard  the  door  of  the  farther  ante-room  closed. 
"  Now,  Hcrtzberg>"  cried  he,  "  como  out— the  coast  is  clear/' 


64  JOS£FH  THE  SECOND. 

A  gigantic  screen  which  divided  the  roonr  in  two,  began  to  move,  and 
forth  came  Count  llerlzbe'-g,  the  King's  Prime  Minister. 
,  •    "  Did  jou  hear  it  ail  f  mkedt  Frederic  laughing. 

"I  did,  so  please  your  Maje>*ty." 

"  Did  you  write  it  down  so  that  I  can  send  its  resume  to  the  Empress 
Catharine  r' 

"  Yes,  your  Majesty,  as  far  as  it  was  possiblfEto  do  so,  I  have  written 
down  every  word  of  your  conference,"  said  Ilertzberg,  with  a  dissatis- 
fied expression  of  countenance. 

The  King  raised  his  large  eyes  with  an  enc[uiring  look  at  the  face  of 
his  trusty  Minister. 

"  Are  you  not  satisfied,. Hertzberg ■?  Why  do  you  shake  your  head? 
You  have  three  wrinkles  in  your  forehead,  and  the  corners  of  your  mouth 
turn  down  as  they  always  do  when  something  has  displeased  you.  Speak 
out,  man.     Of  what  do  you  complain  1" 

"  First  I  complain  that  your  Majesty  has  avowed  the  old  fox  to  per- 
ceive that  you,  as  well  as  himself,  entertain  designs  upon  Poland,  and 
that  in  a  manner  you  are  willing  to  guarantee  to  Austria  her  theft  of 
the  Zips.  I  also  complain  that  you  have  consented  to  induce  Russia, 
through  the  intervention  of  Austria,  to  make  peace  with  Turkey." 

"  Is  that  all  ?"  asked  the  King. 

— "  Yes,  your  Majesty,  that  is  all." 

— "  Well,  then,  hear  my  defence.  As  regards  your  first  complaint,  I 
allowed  the  old  fox  (as  you  call  him)  to  scent  my  desire  for  Polish 
game,  because  I  wished  to  find  out  exactly  how  far  I  could  venture  to 
go  in  the  matter." 

— "Yes,  sire,  and  the  consequence  will  be  that  Austria  who  has  al- 
ready appropriated  the  Zips,  will  stoop  down  to  pick  up  something  else. 
She  has  already  had  her  share  of  the  booty,  why  should  she  divide  with 
your  Majesty  i" 

"  Let  Austria  have  her  second  share,"  cried  the  King,  laughing.  "Ifc 
will  earn  for  her  a  double  amount  of  the  world's  censure.*  As  regards 
your  second  complaint,  let  me  tell  you  that  at  this  moment  peace  is  in- 
dispensable to  ns  all,  and  for  this  reason  I  desire  to  bring  Russia  and 
Austria  into  friendly  relations  with  one  another.  I  think  it  not  only 
wiser  but  more  honorable  to  pacify  Europe  than  to  light  the  torch  of 
war  a  second  time.  It  is  not  an  easy  matter  to  secure  a  general  peace, 
and  we  must  all  make  some  concessions  to  achieve  a  result  so  desirable. 
Do  you  suppose  that  it  is  as  easy  to  conciliate  unfriendly  powers  as  it 
is  to  write  bad  verses  1  I  assure  you,  Hertzberg,  that  I  would  rather 
sit  down  to  render  the  whole  Jewish  history  into  madrigals  than  under- 
take to  fuse  into  unanimity  the  conflicting  interests  of  three  sovereigns, 
when  two  oUt  of  the  three  are  women.  But  I  will  do  my  best.  When 
your  neighbor's  house  is  on  fire,  help  to  put  it  out,  or  it  may  communi- 
cate and  burn  down  your  own,"f 

♦  The  King'?  own  words.    00X6*8  History  of  Austria:  toI.  6,  page  80. 
t  The  Klng'i  Qwa -worls.    Onevrcs  Posttames;  toI.  11,  pngelST. 


EMPEROK  OF  AUSTRIA.  65 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

THE  COUNTESS  WIELOPOLSKA. 

"  You  really  think  that  he  will  come,  Matuschka  ?-"  asked  the  Countcs3 
Wielopolska  of  her  waiting-woman,  who  standing  behind  the  chair  was 
fastening  a  string  of  pearls  in  her  lady's  dusky  hair. 

"I  know  he  will  come,  your  ladyship,"  replied  Matuschka. 

"And  you  have  seen  the  Emperor  and  spoken  to  him!"  exclaimed 
the  Countess,  pressing  her  delicate  white  hands  upon  her  heart  as  though 
she  strove  to  imprison  it&  wild  emotions. 

— "  Indeed  I  have,  my  lady." 

"  Oh,  tell  me  of  it  again,  Matuschka,  tell  me  that  I  may  not  fancy  it  a 
dream  !"  cried  the  Countess  eagerly. 

— "  Well,  then,  my  lady,  I  took  your  note  to  the  palace,  where  the 
Emperor  has  given  positive  orders  that  every  one  who  wishes  it,  shall 
be  admitted  to  his  presence.  The  guard  before  the  door  let  me  pass 
into  the  ante-chamber.  One  of  the  lords  in  waiting  told  me  that  the 
Emperor  would  be  there  before  a  quarter  of  an  hour.  1  had  not  waited 
so  long  when  the  door  opened  and  a  handsome  young  man  in  a  plain 
white  uniform  walked  in.  1  should  never  have  taken  him  for  the  P^m- 
peror,  except  that  the  lord  stood  up  so  straight  when  he  saw  him.  Then 
I  knelt  down  and  gave  the  letter.  The  Emperor  took  it  and  said,  'Tell 
your  lady  that  1  am  not  prepared  to  receive  ladies  in  my  palace  ;  but 
since  she  wishes  to  see  me,  I  will  go  to  her.  If  she  will  be  at  home  this 
evening,  I  will  find  time  to  call  upon  her  myself." 

"Ah !"  cried  the  Countess,  "  he  will  soon  be  here.  I  shall  see  him — 
speak  to  him — pour  out  to  him  the  longings  of  my  bursting  heart !  Oh, 
Matuschka,  as  the  moment  approaches  I  feel  as  if  I  coQld  fly  away  and 
plunge  into  the  wild  waters  of  the  Vistula  that  bare  my  husband's  corpse, 
or  sink  lifeless  upon  the  battle-field  that  is  reddened  with  the  blood  of 
my  brothers." 

"Do  not  think  of  these  dreadful  things,  dear  lady,"  said  Matuschka, 
trying  to  keep  back  her  tears,  "  it  is  twilight  «id  the  Emperor  will  soon 
be  here.  Look  cheerful — for  you  are  as  beantiful  as  an  angel  when  you 
smile,  and  the  Emperor  will  be  much  more  apt  to  be  moved  by  your 
smiles  than  by  your  tears." 

"  You  are  right,  Matuschka,"  cried  the  Countess,  rising  hastily  from 
her  seat.  "  I  will  not  weep,  for  1  must  try  to  find  favor  in  the  Empe- 
ror's eyes." 

She  crossed  the  room  and  stood  before  a  Psyche,  where  for  some  time 
she  scrutinized  her  own  features;  not  with  the  solf complacently  of  a 


(36  JOSEPH  Tills  aEGOND. 

vain  woman,  but  with  the  critical  aCuteness  of  an  artist  who  contern- 
piatus  H  fine  picture.  Gradually  her  eyes  grew  soft  and  her  mouth  rip. 
pled  with  a. smile.  Like  a  mourning  Juno  she  stood  in  the  long  black 
velvet  dress  that  sharply  defined  the  outlines  of  her  faultless  bust,  and 
lell  in  graceful  folds  around  her  stately  figure. — Herboddice  was  clasp- 
ed by  au  agraffe  of  richest  pearls ;  and  the  white  throat  and  the  jewel 
Jay  together,  pearl  beside  pearl,  each  rivalling  the  snowy  lustre  of  the 
other.  Had  it  not  been  for  those  starry  eyes  that  looked  out  so  full  of 
mournful  splendor,  her  face  might  have  seemed  too  statuet«que  in  its 
beauty,  but  from  their  dark  depths  all  the  enthusiasm  of  a  natui'e  that 
had  concentrated  its  every  emotion  into  one  master  passion,  lit  up  her 
face  with  flashes  that  came  and  went  like  summer-lightening. 

"Yes,  1  am  beautiful,"  whispered  she,  while  a  sad  smile  played  around 
her  exquisite  mouth.  "  My  beauty  is  the  last  weapon  left  me  where' 
with  to  battle  for  Poland.  I  must  take  advantage  of  it.  Life  and  hon- 
or, wealth  and  blood,  everything  for  my  country  !" 

She  turned  to  her  waiting-woman  as  a  queen  would  have  done  who 
was  dismissing  her  subjects. 

"  Go,  Matuschka,"  said  she,  "  and  take  some  rest.  You  have  been 
laboring  for  me  all  day,  and  I  cannot  bear  to  think  that  the  only  friend 
left  me  in  this  world,  should  be  overtasked  for  me.  Sometimes  you 
look  at  me  as  ray  mother  once  did ;  and  then  I  dream  that  I  feel  her 
hand  laid  lovingly  upon  my  head,  and  hear  her  dear  voice  exhorting  me 
^o  pray  that  God  would  bless  me  with  strength  to  do  my  duty  to  my 
bleeding  country." 

Matuschka  fell  upon  her  knees  and  kissed  the  hem  of  her  mistress's 
lobe. 

"  Do  not  give  way,"  sobbed  she,  "  do  not  grieve  now." 

The  Countess  did  not  hear.  She  had  thro\Vn  back  her  head  and  was 
gazing  absently  above.  "  Oh,  yes,  I  am  mindful  of  my  duty,"  murmur- 
ed she,  '"I  have  not  forgotten  the  vow  I  made  to  my  mother  and  sealed 
upon  her  dying  lips  with  ray  last  kiss !  I  have  been  a  faithful  daughter 
of  my  fatherland.     I  have  given  everything — there  remains  nothing  but 

tnyself,  and  oh  how  gladly  would  I  give  my  life  for  Poland  ! But 

God  has  forsaken  us,  his  eyes  are  turned  away  !" 

"  Accuse  not  the  Lord,  dear  lady,"  prayed  Matuschka.  "Put  your 
trust  in  Hirn  and  take  courage." 

"  It  is  true.  I  have  no  right  to  accuse  my  maker,"  sighed  the  Coun- 
tess.  "  When  the  last  drop  of  Polish  blood  is  spent  and  the  last  Polish 
heart  is  crushed  beneath  the  tramp  of  the  enemy's  hosts,  then  it  will  be 
time  to  cry  to  heaven !  Rise,  Matuschka,  and  weep  no  more — All  is 
not  yet  lost.  Let  us  hope,  and  labor  that  hope  may  become  reality, 
and  Poland  may  be  free!" 

She  reached  her  hand  to  Matuschka  and  passed  into  an  adjoining  room. 
It  was  the  stat(*apartaient  of  the  inn,  and  was  always  reserved  for  dis- 
tinguished guests.  It  had  been  richly  furnished,  but  the  teeth  of  time 
had  nibblftd  many  a  r^nt  in  thp  old-fe.«hioned  furtiitnrf?,   the  fafJed  c"r- 


EJJPEROIl  OF  AUSTRIA.  67 

tains,  and  the  well-worn  carpet.  Matuschka,  however,  had  given  an  air 
of  some  elegance  to  the  place.  On  the  carved  oak  table  in  the  centre 
stood  a  vase  of  flowers,  and  that  her  dear  mistress  might  have  something 
to  remind  her  of  home,  Matuschka  had  procured  a  piano,  to  which  thw 
Countess,  when  weary  of  her  thoughts,  might  confide  the  hopes  and  fears 
that  were  surging  in  her  storm-tossed  heart. 

The  piano  was  open  and  a  sheet  of  music  lay  on  the  desk.  As  the 
Countess  perceived  it,  she  walked  rapidly  towards  the  instrument  and 
sat  down  before  it. 

"  I  will  sing,"  said  she.  "  I'he  Emp6ror  loves  music,  above  all  thiug.s 
the  music  of  Gluck." 

She  turned  over  the  leaves  and  then  said  softly. 

"  Orpheus  and  Eurydice  !  LaBernasconi  told  mc  that  this  was  his 
favorite  opera.     Oh,  that  I  knew  which  aria  he  loved  the  best !" 

She  struck  a  few  chords  and  in  a  low  voice  began  to  sing.  Gradually 
her  beautiful  features  lost  their  sadness,  she  seemed  to  forget  herself  and 
her  sorrows,  and  to  yield  up  her  soul  to  the  influence  of  Gluck's  heaven- 
ly music.  And  now  with  all  the  power,  the  melody,  the  pathos  of  her 
matchless  voice,  she  sang,  "  Che  faro  senza  JSurydice  P^ 

The  more  she  sang,  the  btightcr  grew  her  lovely  face.  Forgetful  of 
all  things  around,  she  gave  herself  wholly  up  to  the  inspiration  of  the 
hour,  and  from  its  fountains  of  harmony  she  drew  sweetest  draughts  of 
consolation  and  of  hope. 

The  door  had  opened  and  she  had  not  heard  it.  On  the  threshold 
stood  the  Emperor,  followed  by  Matuschka,  while  the  Countess,  all  un- 
mindful, filled  the  air  with  strains  so  divine  that  they  might  have  been 
the  marriage  hymns  of  love  wedded  to  Song. 

The  Emperor  had  stopped  for  a  moment  to  listen.  His  face  which 
at  first  had  worn  an  expression  of  smiling  flippancy  now  changed  its  as- 
pect. He  recognised  the  music  and  felt  his  heart  beat  wildly.  With 
a  commanding  gesture  he  motioned  Matuschka  to  withdraw,  and  noise- 
lessly closed  the  door. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

THE  EMPEROR  AND  THE  COpNTESS. 

The  Countess  continued  to  sing,  although  Joseph  had  advanced  as  far 
as  the  centre  of  the  room.  The  thickness  of  the  carpet  made  his  foot 
fall  inaudible.  He  stood  with  his  right  hand  resting  upon  the  oak-table, 
while  be  leaned  forward  to  listen,  and  one  l)y  one  the  dead  meraories  of 


68  JOSEPH  THE  SECOND.  ^ 

his  youthful  love  came  thronging  around  his  heart  and  filling  it  with  an 
ecstasy  that  was  half  joy  and  half  sorrow. 

More  and  more  impassioned  grew  the  music,  while  the  air  was  tremu- 
lous with  melody.  It  softened  and  softened  until  it  melted  away  in 
sobs.  The  hands  of  the  enchantress  fell  from  the  keys,  she  bowed  her 
head,  and  leaning  against  the  music,  she  burst  into  tears. 

The  Emperor,  too,  felt  the  tear-drops  gather  in  his  eyes ;  he  dashed 
ihem  away,  and  went  rapidly  up  to  the  piano^ 

.  "  Countess,"  said  he  in  his  soft  mellow  tones,  "  I  felt  it  no  indiscretion 
to  listen  unseen  to  your  heavenly  music,  but  no  one  save  God  has  a  right 
to  witness  your  grief." 

She  started,  and  rising  quickly,  the  Emperor  saw  the  face  of  the  lady 
who  had  thrown  him  the  wreath. 

"  It  is  she  !"  cried  he,  the  beautiful  Confederate  ! — "  I  thank  you  from 
my  heart  for  the  favor  you  have  done  me,  for  I  have  sought  you  for 
some  days  in  vain." 

"  Your  Majesty  sought  me  ■?"  said  she,  smiling.  "  Then  I  am  sure  that 
you  are  ready  to  sympathise  with  misfortune." 

"Do  you  need  sympathy?"  asked  he  eagerly. 

"Sire,  I  am  a  daughter  of  Poland,"  ^  replied  she.  "And  the 
Wielopolski's  arc  among  the  noblest  and  richest  of  Poland's  noble 
families," 

'•  Noble !  iiich !  Our  castles  have  been  burned  by  the  Russians,  our 
fields  have  been  laid  waste,  our  vassals  have  been  massacred,  and  of  our 
kinsmen  some  have  died  under  the  knout,  while  others  drag  out  a  life  of 
martyrdom  in  Siberia." 

'*One  of  the  Counts  Wielopolski  was  a  favorite  of  the  King  was  he 
not?"  asked  Joseph  much  moved. 

'  "  He  was  my  husband,"  replied  she,  bitterly.  '•  Heedless  of  his 
countrymen's  warnings,  he  believed  in  the  patriotism  of  Stanislaus. — 
When  he  saw  his  error,  he  felt  that  he  merited  death,  and  expiated  his 
fault  by  self-destruction.     His  grave  is  iu  the  Vistula." 

"Unhappy  wife,"  exclaimed  the  Emperor.  "And  had  you  no  othec 
kinsman  V 

"  I  had  a  father  and  three  brothers." 

"You  had  them?"  ^     . 

"Yes,  sire,  but  I  have  them  no  longer.  My  brothers  died  on  the  field 
of  battle,  m  J  father,  oh,  my  father ! — God  grant  that  he  be  no  more 
among  the  Vivmg,  for  he  is  in  Siberia  /" 

The  Emperor  raised  his  hands  in  horror ;  then  extending  them  to  the 
Countess,  he  took  hers,  and  said  in  a  voice  of  deepest  sympathy, 

"i  thank  you  for  coming  to  me.  Tell  me  your  plans  for  the  future, 
that  1  may  learn  how  best  I  may  serve  you." 

"  Sire,  1  have  none,"  sighed  she.  "  Life  is  so  mournful  that  I  long  to 
close  my  eyes  forever  upon  its  tragedies,  but " 

"But  what?" 

''  I  should  then  be  robbed  of  the  sight  of  him  who  has  promised  sue- 


cor  to  my  fatherland,"  cried   she,  passionately,  while  she  sank  upon  her 
knees  and  clasped  her  hands  ecu vulaively^  together. 

Joseph  bent  over,  and  would  have  raised  her  from  tlve  floor.  "It  ill 
becomes  such  beauty  to  kneel  before  me,"  said  he,  sofily. 

"Let  me  kneel,  let  lue  kneel"!"  exclaimed  she,  while  her  beautiful 
eyes  suffused  with  tears.  "  Here,  at  your  feet,  let  me  implore  your 
protection  for  Poland  !  Have  mercy,  sire,  upon  the  Confederates,  whose 
only  crime  is  their  resistance  to  foreign  oppression.  Reach  out  your 
imperial  hand  to  them,  and  bid  them  be  free,  for  they  must  either  be 
slaves  or  die  by  their  own  hands.  Emperor  of  Austria  save  the  chil- 
dren of  Sobieski  from  barbarous  Russia  I" 

"Do  not  fear,"  replied  Joseph,  kindly.  "I  promised  the  Confede- 
rates that  Austria  would  recognize  their  envoy,  and  I  will  redeem  rny 
word.  Rise,  Countess,  I  implore  you  rise,  and  may  the  day  not  be  dis- 
tant when  I  shall  extend  my  hand  to  Poland  as  1  now  do  to  you.  You 
have  a  pledge  of  my  sincerity,  in  the  fact  that  we  have  both  a  common, 
enemy,  and  it  will  not  be  my  faull  if  I  do  not  oppose  her,  sword  iu 
hand.  Still,  although  men  call  me  Emperor,  I  am  the  puppet  of  another 
will.  The  crown  of  Austria  is  on  my  mother's  head,  its  shadow,  alone, 
is  upon  mine.  I  speak  frankly  to  you  ;  but  our  acquaintance  is  peculiar, 
and,  by  its  nature,  has  broken  down  the  ordinary  barriers  of  conven- 
tional life.  Your  songs  and  your  tears  have  spoken  directly  to  my 
heart,  recalling  the  only  happy  days  that  I  have  ever  known  on  earth. 
But  I  am  growing  sentimental.  You  will  pardon  me,  1  know,  for  you 
are  a  woman,  and  have  known  what  it  is  to  love." 

She  slowly  shook  her  head.  "  No,  sire,"  replied  she,  "  I  have  never 
known  what  it  was  to  love," 

The  Emperor  looked  directly  in  her  eyes.  Shef  Beautiful  and  ma- 
jestic as  Hera, — she,  not  know  what  it  was  to  love  !  "  And  your  hus- 
band," asked  he. 

"  I  was  married  to  him  as  Poland  was  given  to  Stanislaus.  I  never 
saw  him  until  he  became  my  husband." 

"  And  your  heart  refused  allegiance  1" 

"  Sire,  I  have  never  yet  seen  the  matt  who  was  destined  to  reign  over 
my  heart." 

"Ah,  you  are  proud!  I  envy  him  who  is  destined  to  conquer  and 
reign  over  that  enchanting  domain." 

She  looked  for  one.  moment  at  the  Emperor,  and  then  said,  blushing, 
"Sire,  my  heart  will  succumb  to  him  who  rescues  Poland.  With  rap- 
ture it  will  acknowledge  him  as  lord  and  sovereign  of  my  being." 

The  Emperor  made  no  reply.  He  gazed  with  a  significant  smile  at 
the  lovely  enthusiast,  until  she  blushed  again,  and  her  eyes  sought  the 
ground. 

"  Ah,  Countess,"  said  Joseph,  after  a  pause,  "if  all  the  women  of  Po- 
land were  of  your  mind,  a  multitudinous  army  would  soon  flock  to  her 
standard."^ 

— "  Every  Polish  woman  is  of  one  mind  with  me.     We  are  all  the 


70  UOSEPIl  raK  SECOND. 

daughters  of  one  mother,  and  our  love  for  her  is  stronger  than  death." 

The  Emperor  shook  his  head.  "  Were  this  true,*'  replied  he,  "  Po- 
land would  never  have  fallen  as  she  has  done.  But  far  be  it  fronm  me 
to  heap  reproaches  upon  the  unfortunate.  I  will  do  what  it  lies  in  my 
power  to  do  for  the  Poles,  provided  they  are  willing  to  second  my  ef- 
forts for  themselves.  W  they  would  have  peace,  however,  with  oiher 
nations,  thcy'must  show  strength  and  unity  of  purpose  among  them- 
selves. Until  they  can  stand  before  the  world  in  the  serried  ranks  of  a 
national  unanimity,  they  must  expect  to  be  assailed  by  their  rapacious 
neighbors.  But  let  us  forget  polities',  for  a  moment.  F  long  to  speak 
to  you  of  yourse]f     What  are  your  plans'?     How  can  I  serve  you?" 

"  Sire,  I  have  no  plans.  I  ask  nothing  of  the  world  but  a  place  of 
refuge,  where  I  can  sorrow  unseen." 

"You  are  too  young,  and,  pardon  me,  if  J  add,  too  beautiful  to  fly 
from  the  world.  Come  to  Vienna,  and  learn  from  me  how  easy  it  is  to 
live  without  happiness.'" 

*'  Your  Majesty  will  allow  me  to  go  to  Vienna?"  cried  the  Countess, 
joyfully.  .  "  Ever  since  I  have  felt  that  I  could  do  nothing  for  Poland,  I 
have  longed  to  live  in  Vienna,  that  I  might  breathe  the  same  atmosphere  , 
with  your  Majesty  and  the  Empress  Maria  Theresa.  You  are  the  only 
Sovereigns  in  Europe  who  have  shown  any  compassion  for  the  mis- 
fortunes of  my  country,  and  before  your  generous  sympathy  my  heart 
bows  down  in  gratitude  and  admiration." 

"Say  you  so,  proud  heart  that  has  never  bowed  before?"  exclaimed  , 
the  Emperor,  smiling,  and  taking  the  Countess's  white  hand  in  his. — 
"  Come,  then,  to  Vienna,  not  to  do  homage,  but  to  receive  it,  for  noth- 
ing becomes  your  beauty  more  than  pride.  Come  to  Vienna,  and  I  will 
see  that  new  friends  and  new  ties  awaken  your  heart  to  love  and  happi- 
ness." 

"  I  have  one  relative  in  Vienna,  sire,  the  Countess  Von  Salmour." 

"Ah!  one  of  the  Empress's  ladies  of  honor.  Then  you  will  nob 
need  my  protection  there,  for  the  Countess  is  in  high  favor  with  the 
Empress,  and  I  may  say,  that  she  has  mure  influence  at  Court  than  I 
have." 

"  Sire,"  said  the  Countess,  raising  her  large  eyes,  with  an  appealing 
look,  "  1  shall  go  to  Vienna,  if  I  go  under  your  Majesty's  protection  jftid 
with  your  sanction." 

"  You  shall  have  both,"  replied  Joseph,  warmly.  "  I  will  write  to  my 
mother  to-day,  and  you  shall  present  my  letter.  When  will  you  leave? 
I  dare  not  ask  you  to  tarry  here,  for  this  is  no  place  for  lovely  and  un- 
protected women.  Moreover,  the  King  of  Prussia  has  no  sympathy 
with  Poland,  and  he  will  like  you  the  less  for  the  touching  appeal  yoa 
made  in  her  behalf  when  you  sang  at  the  concert.  Greet  the  Empress 
for  me,  and  let  me  hope  that  you  will  stir  her  heart  as  you  have  stirred 
mine.  And  now  farewell.  My  time  has  expired  :  the  King  of  Prussia 
expects  me  to  supper.  1  must  part  from  you,  but  I  leave  comforted, 
since  I  am  enabled  to  say  in  parting  '  An  revoir.''  **  ' 


EMPKRUR  ')F  AU'VfRlA  ,  [ 

He  bowed,  and  turned  to  quit  the  room.  But  at  the  door  he  g-ook- 
again. 

"If  I  ever  win  the.  right  to  claim  anything  of  you,  will  you  sing  for 
me  the  Aria  that  I  found  you  singing  to-night." 

"  Oh,  your  Majesty,"  said  the  Countess,  coming  eagerly  forward, 
"you  have  already  earned  the  right  to  claim  whatsoever  you  desire  of 
me.  I  can  never  speak  my  gratitude  for  your  condescension  ;  perhaps 
music  will  speaU  for  me.  flow  gladly,  then,  will  I  sing  when  vnu  com- 
mand me." 

"  I  will  clftim  the  promise  in  Vienna,"  said  he,  as  he  left  the  room. 

The  Countess  remained  standing  just  where  he  had  met  her,  breath- 
lessly listening  to  his  voice,  which  for  awhile  she  heard  in  the  ante-room, 
and  then  to  the  last  echoes  of  his  retreating  steps. 

Suddenly  the  door  was  opened  and  Matuschka,  with  joyful  mien, 
came  forward  with  a  purse  in  her  hand. 

"  Oh  !  my  lady,"  exclaimed  she,  "  the  Emperor  has  given  me  this 
purse  to  defray  our  expenses  to  Vienna," 

The  Countess  started,  and  her  pale  face  suffused  with  orlmsoa  shame. 

"  Alms  !"  said  she,  bitterly.     ''  He  treats  me  like  a  beggar." 

"No,  lady,"  said  Matuschka,  abashed.  "The  Emperor  told  me  that 
he  had  begged  you  to  go  to  Vienna,  for  business  of  State,  and  tiiat  he 
had  a  right  to  provide  the  expenses  of  our  journey  there.  He  said " 

The  Countess  waved' her  hand  impatiently.  "Go  back  to  the  Empe- 
ror," said  she,  haughtily.  "Tell  him  that  you  dare  not  offer  this  purse 
to  your  lady,  for  you  know  that  she  would  rather  die  than  receive  alms, 
even  from  an  Emperor." 

Matuschka  cast  down  her  eyes,  and  turned  away.  But  she  hesitated 
and  looked  timidly  at  her  mistress,  whose  great,  glowing  eyes  were  fixed 
upon  her  in  unmistakable  displeasure. 

"My  lady,"  said  she,  with  embarrassment,  "  I  will  do  your  bidding, 
but  you  who  fiave  been  so  rich  and  great,  know  nothing  of  the  trouble.-? 
of  poverty.     Your  money  is  exhausted.     I  would  rather  melt  my  own 
heart's  blood  into  gold  than  tell  yon  so,  but  indeed,  dear  lady,  if  you  rf 
fuse  the  Emperoi''s  gift  you  will  be  without  a  cent  in  your  purse." 

The  Countess  raised  her  hands  to  her  hair  and  unfastened  the  peari 
wreath  with  which .  Matuschka  hud  decorated  it  in  anticipation  of  fh»> 
limperor's  visit. 

"  There — take  this  and  sell  it.  You  will  readily  find  a  jeweller  that, 
understands  its  value,  and  if  he  pays  us  but  the  half,  it  will  be  twic« 
the  sum  which  you  hold  in  the  Emperor's  purse." 

— "  My  lady,  would  you  sell  your  family-jewels !  Have  you  forgot- 
ten that  your  family  are  pledged  not  to  sell  their  heirlooms?" 

— "  God  will  forgive  me  if  I  break  my  vow.  It  is  more  honorable  to 
part  with  my  ancestral  jewels  than  to,  receive  alms.  I  have  no  heirs, 
and  no  one  will  be  wronged  by  the  act.  I  have  but  my  mother — Po- 
land. For  her  I  am  ready  to  sacrifice  the  little  I  possess,  and  when 
nothing  else  remains,  I  shall  vicld  my  life.     Go,  Matu,«chka,  ^o.'" 


7^'  JOSEi^ii   i'Uli:  SE0O]\'D 

Matuschka  took  the  wreath  aud  wepfe.  "  1  go,  lady,  sobbed  she." — 
"  This  will  last  you  for  half  a  year,  aud  then  the  armlets,  then  the  dia- 
dem of  brilliants,  the  bracelets  and  the  necklace,  must  all  go.  God 
grant  you  may  live  so  long  on  these  family-treasures,  that  old  Matuschka 
may  be  spared  the  humiliation  of  selling  the  rest.  1  have  lived  too 
long,  since  I  must  chaffer,  with  a  base-born  tradesman,  for  the  jewels 
that  were  the  royal  gitt  of  John  Sobieski  to  ray  lady's  noble  ancestors." 

She  raised  the  Countess's  robe  to  her  lips,  and  left  the  room.  Her 
mistress  looked  after  her,  but  her  thoughts  were  Wandering  elsewhere. 
Slowly  sinking  on  her  knees,  she  began  to  pray,  and  the  burthen  of  her 
prayer  was  this : 

"  Oh!  my  God,  grant  that  I  may  win  his  love." 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

MARIA   THi?RESA. 

"  The  pearls  were  sold,  the  Countess  had  arrived  in  Vienna,  and  she 
was  in  the  presence  of  the  Empress,  whom,  although  they  had  never 
met  before,  she  had  so  long  regarded  with  affectionate  admiration. 

"  I  rejoice  to  see  you,"  said  Maria  Theresa,  graciously  extending  her 
hand.  "  It  gives  me  pleasure  to  receive  a^elative  of  the  Countess  Von 
Salmour.  But  you  have  another  claim  upon  my  sympathy,  for  you  are 
a  Polish  woman,  and  I  can  never  forget  that  but  for  John  Sobieski,  Vi- 
enna would  have  been  a  prey  to  the  Infidel." 

"  Upon  your  Majesty's  generous  remembrance  of  Sobieski's  alliance, 
rests  the  last  hope  of  Poland  !"  exclaimed  the  Countess,  kneeling  and 
kissing  the  hand  of  the  Empress.  "  God  has  inclined  to  her  redemption 
the  heart  of  the  noblest  woman  in  Europe,  and,  through  her  magnanim- 
ity, will  the  wicked  Empress  of  Russia  receive  her  check.  Oh,  your 
Majesty,  that  woman,  in  the  height  of  her  arrogance,  believes  _  to-day, 
that  you  are  only  too  willing  to  further  her  rapacity  and  participate  in 
her  crimes!" 

"  Never  shall  it  be  said  that  she  and  I  have  one  thought  or  one  object 
in  common !"  cried  Maria  Theresa,  her  face  glowing  with  indignation.-— 
"Let  her  cease  her  oppression  of  Poland,  or  the  Austrian  eagle  will 
seize  the  Russian  vulture." 

The  face  of  the  Countess  grew  radiant  with  joy.  Raising  her  beauti- 
ful arms  to  heaven,  she  cried  out  exultantly,  "  King  of  kings,  Thou  hast 
heard!  Maria  Theresa  comes  to  our  help!  Oh,  your  Majesty,  how 
many  thousand  hearts,  from  this  day,  will  bow  down  in  homage  before 


HilPEROK  Ot  AU5iTRU.  T^i 

your  throne!     Hereafter,  not  God,  but  Maria  Theresa  will  be  our  ref- 
uge!" 

"  Do  not  blaspheme,"  cried  the  Empress,  crossing  herself.  "  I  am  but 
the  servant  of  the  Lord,  and  I  do  His  divine  will  on  earth,  God  is  our 
refuge  and  our  strength,  and  He  will  nerve  my  arm  to  overcome  evil 
and  work  out  good.  I  will  countenance  and  uphold  the  Confederates, 
because  it  is  my  honest  conviction  that  their  cause  is  just,  and  that  they 
are  the  only  party  in  Poland  who  act  in  honor  and  good  faith."* 

"  Hitherto,  they  would  have  died  to  vindicate  that  honor  and  that 
liiith,  now  th^y  will  live  to  defend  it  from  their  oppressors.  Oh,  your 
Majesty,  pardon  me,  if,  in  my  rapture  at  your  goodness,  I  forget  what  is 
due  to  your  exalted  station.  My  heart  will  burst  if  I  may  not  give  ut- 
terance to  my  joy.  I  am  a  lonely  creature,  with  no  tie,  but  that  which 
binds  mo  to  ray  unhappy  mother,  Polonia !" 

"So  young,  and  without  home  or  kindred,"  said  the  Empress,  kindly. 
"I  have  already  heard  of  your  misfortunes,  poor  child,  from  my  son,  the 
Emperor." 

At  the  name  oT  the  Emperor,  the  Countess's  pale  face  was  tinged  with 
a  faint  rosy  color.  The  Empress  did  not  remark  it,  for  she  was  already 
thinking  what  a  pity  it  was  that  such  a  surpassing  beautiful  woman 
should  be  a  widow  -,  that  such  an  enchanting  creature  should  be  unloved 
and  unwedded. 

"  You  arc  too  handsome,"  said  she,  "  to  remain  single.  Woman  was 
made  for  love  and  marriage.  Happy  is  she  whd  can  devote  her  whole 
heart  to  the  sweet  responsibilities  of  domestic  life,  and  who  is  not  called 
upon  to  assume  the  duties  that  weigh  down  the  head  of  royalty. 

While  the  Empress  spoke,  her  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the  portrait  of 
the  Emperor  Francis,  which  still  hung  between  the  windows  in  the  place 
of  the  mirror,  which  had  been  removed  from  its  frame.  The"  Countess 
Wielopolska  had  been  admitted  to  the  gay  sitting-room. 

"  Earthly  grandeur,"  continued  she,  "  is  beset  with  pains  and  cares; 
but  the  happy  wife,  whose  subjects  are  her  own  dear  children,  is  one  de- 
gree removed  from  the  bliss  of  angels.  You  must  marry,  my  dear,  and 
I  will  find  for  you  a  hrUhant  parte." 

— "  I  am  poor,  your  Majesty,  and  am  too  proud  to  enter  a  rich  man's 
palace  without  a  dowry." 

— "  You  shall  have  your  dowry.  I  shall  instruct  my  Ambassador  at 
St.  Petersburg,  to  demand  the  return  of  your  estates.  It  will  be  one 
good  deed  by  which  that  woman  f  may  expiate  some  of  her  many  crimes. 
Your  estates  once  restored  you  w  ill  be  an  equal  match  for  any  nobleman 
in  Europe." 

"If  I  should  receive  my  estates  through  your  Majesty's  intercession," 
replied  the  Countess,  "  my  home  would  be  an  asylum  for  all  the  unfor- 
tunate Poles.  I  should  think  it  treason  to  dream  of  personal  happiness, 
while  Poland  lies  shackled  and  bleeding." 

♦  The  Empregs's  own  words.    See  Ferrand  1,  page  79. 

tTlio  words  by  which  Maria  Ther<«a  always  designuWd  Oalhsrln*. 


74  JOSEPH  THE  SECOND. 

"  But  Poland  shall  be  free !"  cried  the  Empress,  with  enthusiasm. 
"With  the  co-operation  of  Fiance,  the  voice  of  Austria  will  be  so  loud 
that  Russia  will  hear,  and  withdraw  her  iinjusL  claims.  We  will  strike 
off  the  fetters  of  Poland,  while  we  forge  a  gentle  chain  for  the  Countess 
VVielopolska.  A  chain  that  falls  so  lightly  upun  woojan,  that  its  bur- 
then is  sweeter  than  freedom.'' 

"Your  Majesty  must  forgive  me,"  reiterated  the  Countess,  "  1  have 
sworn,  on  my  mother's  grave,  that  as  long  as  I  can  be  useful,  1  will  live 
for  Poland.  Should  she  regain  her  freedom,  I  will  retire  to  a  convent, 
where  every  breath  I  draw  shall  be  a  thanksgiving  to  God.  Should  she 
be  doomed  to  slavery,  she  will  need  her  sons  and  daughters  no  more, 
and  then  I  will  die.  Your  Majesty  sees  that  1  am  already  betrothed. — 
1  shall  soon  be  the  bride  of  Heaven  or  the  bride  of  Death." 

"  The  bride  of  Heaven,"  repeated  the  Empress,  her  eyes  swimming 
with  tears.  "Then  be  it  so:  it  is  not  I,  who  would  entice  Mary  from 
her  Master's  feefc.  The  world  is  full  of  Marthas,  troubled  about  many 
things.  G9  choose  the  better  part,  sweet  enthusiast,  and  1  will  see  that 
you  have  cause  for  thanksgiving." 

She  reached  her  hand  to  the  Countess  who  kissed  it,  and  withdrew. 
As  she  opened  the  door  she  f-lt  the  bolt  turn  from  the  outside.     :\l. 

"  His  Highness,  Prince  Kaunitz,"  cried  a  page  ;  and  as  the  Countess 
was  making  one  last  inclination  of  the  head,  the  tall,  slender  form  of 
Kaunitz  filled  the  space  behind  her. 

"  Have  I  permission  to  enter,  your  Majesty,"  said  the  Minister. 

"You  are  always  welcome,  Prince,"  replied  the  Empress. 

Kaunitz  bowed  slightly,  and   as  he  raided   his  cold  eye  to  the  face  of 

the  Countess,  a  faint  smile  flitted   over  his  features,  but  it  was  followed 

by  a  sneer.   Without  acknowledging  her  presence  by  the  smallest  coUr- 

'tesy,  he  advanced  to  the   Empress,  and  the  door  closed  upon  Poland 

forever'.  ^ 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

MARIA   ANTOINETTE    AND    COURT    KTEQUETTE. 

*'  Letters  from  France,  your  Majesty,"  said  Kaunitz,  and  the  face  of 
•the  Empress  grew  bright  as  she  recognised  the  handwriting  of  her  daugh- 
ter. 

"The  Daviphiness  is  well,"'  said  she.  "  Next  to  her  dear  self  1  love 
to  see  her  writing.  Ah,  1  have  gro\yn  very  lonely  since  ray  little  Antoin- 
etfj&  has  left  me!     One   by  one  my  children  go;  one  dear  face  alone. 


EMPEROR  OF  AUSTKlA.  75 

remains,"  continued  she,  pointing  to  the  portrait  of  the  Emperor.    Then 
looking  at  the  letters  in  the  hands  of  the'^Prince,  she  said,  ' 

''  Have  you  good  news'?" 

"  Yes,  your  Majesty.  The  Dauphiness  is  adored  by  the  French  lp^■o- 
plc.  They  repeat  her  in;i  mofs,  write  odes  and  maJrigals  to  her  beauty, 
and  hang  up  her  portrait  in'  their  houses.  When  she  drives  out  in  her 
fa/t'cAe,  ihey  impede  its  progrfss  with  their  welcomes;  and  when  she 
appears  at  the  theatre,  the  prima  donnas  are  forgotten.  A  half  a  year 
ago,  when  she  made  her  entry  into  Paris  and  more  than  a  hundred  thou- 
sand people  went  out  to  meet  her,  the  Duke  De  Brissac  said,  "  Madame 
you  have  one  hundred  thousand  lovers,  and  yet  the  Dauphin  will  never 
be  jealous  of  them."*  The  dear  old  Duke!  Hclitlleknew  what  literal 
truth  be  spoke  of  the  Dauphin  on  that  occasion. 

-  "  Wliat  do  you  mean?"  asked  the  Empress,  hastily.  "I  know 
by  the  expression  of  your  face  that  you  have  something  unpleasant 
to  tell." 

"  I  mean  to  say  the  Dauphin  is  not  jealous,  because  he  is  the  only 
mnn  in  France  who  is  not  in  love  -wiih  the  Dauphiness." 

"The  Empress  turned  scarlet.     "This  is  a  s^erious  charge  which  you 
presume  to  make  against  the  Dauphin,"  said  she  frowning. 
''  It  is  unhappily  true,"  replied  Kaunilz  coolly. 

— "The  Dauphiness  makes  no  mention  of  such  a  state  of  things  in  her 
letter.     It  does  not  breathe  a  word  of  complaint." 

— "Perhaps  the  Dauphiness,  in  the  innocence  of  her  heart,  has  no  idea 
of  the  grounds  which  she  has  for  complaint." 

The  Empress  looked  displeased.  "  Do  you  know  that  your  language 
is  offensive  f  said  she.  "  You  assert  that  the  Dauphin  is  insensible  to 
the  charms  of  his  beautiful  young  wife."    « 

— "  Your  Majesty  knows  well  that  I  will  never  assert  a  falsehood. 
The  Dauphin  is  not  in  love  with  his  wife,  and  I  do  not  believe  that  she 
has  an  advocate  at  the  court  of  Louis  XV.  Since  the  shameless  parti- 
zans  of  Dubarry  have  triumphed  over  the  noble  Duke'  of  Choiseui,  the 
Dauphiness  is  without  a  friend.  The  Duked'Arguillon  is  anti-Austrian, 
and  your  Majesty  knows  what  an  enemy  to  Austria  was  the  father  of 
the  Dauphin." 

"  Why  do  you  seek  to  torture  me,  Kaunitz?"  said  the  Empress  im- 
patiently. "  You  are  not  telling  me  all  this  for  nothing.  Say  at  once 
what  you  have  to  say." 

"  Your  Majesty  has  not  yet  read  the  letter  which  I  had  the  honor  of 
handing  to  you  just  now,  I  believe,"  said  Kaunitz.  * 

Maria  Theresa  took  up  the  letter  from  the  gueredon  on  which  she  had 
laid  it,  and  began  to  look  it  over. 

"  It  is  true,"  sighed  she.     "  The  Dauphiness  complains  of  solitude. 
'Since  the  Duke  de  Choiseui  has  Iefc,',jwrites  she,  '  I  am  alone  and  with- 
out a  friend.'     You  are  right.     The  ^auphiness  is  in   danger.     She 
writes  that  her  enemies  arc  intrigniuir  Co  part  her   from   the   Dauphin. 
*  Memoir«  of  Mndaroe  De  Csmpan,  toI.  1,  page  60. 


76  JUSlil^H  THE  SLlCO.tO. 

l^hey  attempted  in  FontaInble,i^u  to  assign  her  a  suite  of  apartments  re- 
niotc  from  those  of  her  husbancl." 

"  Yes,  tlie  anti-Austrian  party,  seeing  that  he  is  indifferent  to  her,  are 
doing  their  best  to  convert  this  indifference  into  dislike.  But  the  Dau- 
phitiess  saw  through  the  affair,  and  cnniplained  to  the  King." 

"  That  was  right  and  bold  !"  cried  the  Km  nress  joyfully. 

*'  Yes,  it  was  bold,  for  it  gaiued  another  enemy  for  the  Dauphiness. 
She  should  have  spoken  to  the  King  through  the  Duke  d'Arguillon,  in- 
stead of  which  she  applied  to  his  Majesty  herself.  The  Duke  will  nev- 
er forgive  her  ;  and  when  the  Duchess  of  Noailles  reproved  the  Dau- 
phiness, she  replied  that  she  would  never  talie  counsel  of  etiquette  where 
her  family  affairs  were  concerned.  The  consequence  is  that  the  Duchess 
also  has  gone  over  to  the  enemy." 

"  To  the  enemy  !"  exclaimed  the  Empress  anxiously.  "  Has  she  then 
other  enemies?" 

— "  Madame  de  Marsan,  the  governess  of  the  sisters  of  the  Dauphin 
■will  never  forgive  her  for  leaving  interfered  in  the  education  of  the  young 
Princesses." 

"  But  surely  the  daughters  of  the  King  will  be  kind  to  my  poor  Ma- 
rie Antoinette !"  exclaimed  the  Empress,  ready  to  burst  into  tears. 
"  They  promised  to  love  her,  and  it  is  but  natural  and  womanly  that 
they  should  shun  the  party  which  upholds  the  profligate  woman  who 
rules  the  King  of  France !" 

Prince  Kaunitz  slightly  elevated  his  shoulders.  "  Madame  Adelaide, 
the  eldest,  until  the  marriage  of  the  Dauphin,  held  the  first  place  at 
court.  Now,  the  Dauphiness  has  precedence  of  her,  and  the  court  card- 
parties  are  held  in  her  apartments.  Madame  Adelaide,  therefore,  has 
refused  to  be  present,  and  retires  to  her  own  rooms,  where  she  holds  ri- 
val card-parties  which  are  attended  by  the  anti-Austrians  who  are  op- 
posed to  Dubarry.  This  is  the  second  party  who  intrigue  against  the 
Dauphiness. Madame  Sophie  perchance  remembers  her  in  her  pray- 
ers ;  but  she  is  too  pious  to  be  of  use  to  any  body. — Madame  Victoire, 
who  really  loves  the  Dauphiness,  is  so  sickly  that  she  scarcely  ever 
leaves  her  room.  For  a  while  she  held  little  reunions  there,  which  be- 
ing very  pleasant,  were  for  a  while  attended  by  the  Dauphiness ;  but 
Madame  de  Noailles  objected,  and  court-etiquette  required  that  they 
shoulij^be  discontlnuetl." 

The  Empress  had  risen  and  was  pacing  the  floor  in  great  agitation. 
"  So  young,  so  lovely,  and  slighted  by  her  husband !"  murmured  she 
bitterly,  while  large  tear-drops  stood  in  her  eyes.  "  The  daughter  of 
the  Cesars  in  strife  with  a  King's  base-born  mistress  and  a  vile  faction 
who  hate  her  without  cause  ! — And  I — her  mother — an  Empress,  am 
powerless  to  help  her  !" 

"  No,  your  Majesty,"  said  Kaunitz,  "  not  altogether  powerless.  You 
cannot  help  her  with  armies,  butHou  can  do  so  with  good  advice,  and 
no  one  can  advise  her  as  effectuailiy  as  her  mother."  , 

"  Advise  her !     What  advice  can  Igive  ■?"  cried  the  Empress  angrily. 


EMPEROR  OF  AUSTRIA.  77 

"  Shall  I  counsel  her  to  attend  the  pclets  sozipers  of  the  King,  and  truckle 
to  his  mistress?  Never  !  never ! — My  daughter  may  be  unhappy,  but 
she  shall  not  be  dishonored  !" 

"  I  should  not  presume  to  make  any  such  proposition  to  the  Dauphin- 
ess,"  said  Kaunitz  quietly.  "  One  cannot  condescend  to  Dubarry  as  we 
did  to  La  Pompadour,  The  latter  was  at  least  a  woman  of  mind,  the 
former  is  nothing  more  than  a  vulgar  beauty,  lint  there  is  another  lady 
whose  influence  at  court  is  without  Wmit ;  one  whom  Dubarry  contemns, 
but  whom  the  Dauphiness  would  do  well  to  conciliate." 

'«  Of  what  lady  do  you  speak,  Kaunitz?" 

"  I  speak  of  Madame  Etiquette,  your  Majesty.  She  is  a  stifFand  tire- 
some old  dame,  I  grant  you,  but  in  France  she  presides  over  everything. 
Without  her  the  royal  family  can  neither  sleep  nor  wake ;  they  can 
neither  take  a  meal  if  they  be  in  health,  nur  a  purge  if  they  be  indispos- 
ed without'  her  everlasting  survsillance.  She  directs  their  dress,  amuse- 
ments, associates  and  behavior  ;  she  presides  over  their  pleasure,  their 
weariness,  their  social  hours  and  their  hours  of  solitude.  This  may  be 
uncomfortable,  but  royalty  cannot  escape  it,  and  it  must  be  endured," 

"  It  is  the  business  of  Madame  de  Noailles  to  attend  to  the  requisi- 
tions of  court  etiquette,"  said  the  Empress  impatiently. 

"  And  of  the  Dauphiness  to  attend  to  her  representations,"  added 
Kaunitz. 

"She  will  certainly  have  enough  discretion  to  conform  herself  to  such' 
obligations !" 

— "  Your  Majesty,  a  girl  of  fifteen  who  has  a  hundred  thousand  lovers 
is  not  apt  to  be  troubled  with  dii^cretiun.  The  Dauphiness  is  bored  to 
death  by  Madame  de  Noailles'  eternal  sermons,  and  therein  she  may  be 
right.  But  she  turns  the  Mistress  of  Ceremonies  into  ridicule,  and  therein 
she  is  wrong.  In  an  outburst  of  her  vKxatiou  the  Dauphiness  one  day 
called  her  '  old  Madam  Etiquette.'  and  as  the  honmois  of  a  future  Queen 
are  apt  to  be  repeated,  Madame  de  Noailles  goes  by  no  other  name  at 
court.  Again — Not  long  ago  ihe  Dauphiness  gave  a  party  of  pleasure 
at  Versailles.     The  company  were  mounted  on  donkies." 

"On  donkies  !"  cried  the  Empress,  with  horror. 

"On  donkies,"  repeated  Kaunitz,  with  composure.  "The  d  On  key  on 
which  the  Dauphiness  rode  was  unworthy  of  the  honor  conferred  upon 
it.     It  threw  its  royal  rider." 

—"And  Antoinette  fell  off?" 

"  She  fell,  your  Majesty,  and  fell  without  exercising  any  particular 
discretion  in  the  matter.  The  Count  of  Artois  came  forward  to  her  as- 
sistance, but  she  waved  him  off,  saying  with  comic  earnestness,  '  Do  not 
touch  me  for  your  life !  Send  quick  a  courier  for  Madam  Etiquette, 
and  wait  until  she  has  prescribed  the  important  ceremonies  with  which 
a  Dauphiness  is  to  be  remounted  upon  the  back  of  her  donkey."  Every 
one  laughed  of  course,  and  the  next  day  when  the  thing  was  repeated, 

everybody  in  Paris  was  heartily  amused except  Madame  de  Noailles. 

»She  did  not  laugh." 


78  JOSEPH  THE  SECOND, 

Neither  could  the  Empress  vouchsafe  a  smile,  although  the  affair  was 
ludicrous  enough.  She  was  still  walkiiTg  to  and  fro,  her  face  scarlet  with 
mortification.  She  stopped  directly  in  front  of  her  unsynipathising  min- 
ister, and  said,  "  You  are  right.  1  must  warn  Antoinette  that  she  is 
going  too  far.  Oh  my  heart  bleeds  when  I  think  of  my  dear,  inexpe- 
rienced child  cast  friendless  upon  the  reefs  of  that  dangerous  and  corrupt 
Court  of  France  !  My  God  !  My  God  !  why  did  I  not  heed  the  warning 
I  received  !     "Why  did  I  consent  to  let  her  go  !" 

"  Because  your  Majesty  was  too  wise  to  be  guided  by  lunatics  and 
imposters,  and  because  you  recognized  not  only  the  imperative'  necessi- 
ty which'^Dlaced  Maria  Antoinette  upon  the  throne  of  France,  but  also 
the  value  and  the  blessing  of  a  close  alliance  with  the  Freneh."         •      .  <». 

"  God  grant  it  may  prove  a  blessing  !"  sighed  the  Empress.  "  I  will 
write  to-day,  and  implore  her  to  call  to  aid  all  her  discretion;  for  Hea- 
ven knows  it  is  needed  at  the  Court  of  France." 

"  It  is  not  an  easy  thing  to  call  up  discretion  whenever  discretion  is 
needed,"  said  Kaunitz,  thoughtfully.  "  Has  not  your  Majesty,  with  that 
goodness  which  does  so  much  honor  to  your  heart,  gone  so  far  as  to 
promise  help  to  the  quarrelsome  Poles  ?" 

"  Yes,"  said  the  Empress,  warmly,  "  and  I  intend  to  keep  my  pro- 
mise " 

''  Promises,  your  Majesty,  are  sometimes  made  which  it  is  impossi- 
ble to  keep." 

— "  But  I  make  no  such  promises,  and  therefore  honor  requires  that 
I  fulfil  my  imperial  pledge.  Yes,  we  have  promised  help  and  comfort 
to  the  patriotic  Confederates,  the  defenders  of  liberty  and  of  the  true 
faith,  and  God  forbid  that  we  should  ever  deceive  those  who  trust  to  us 
for  protection !" 

Kaunitz  bowed.  "Then  your  Majesty  will  have  the  goodness  to  ap-. 
prize  the'  Emperor  that  the  army  must  be  put  upon  a  war  footing,  our 
magazines  must  be  replenished,  and  Austria  must  prepare  herself  to  suf- 
fer all  the  horrors  of  a  long  war." 

"A  warl  With  whoml"  exclaimed  the  astounded  Empress. 

"  With  Russia,  Prussia,  Sweden,  perchance  with  all  Europe.  Does 
your  Majesty  suppose  that  the  great  powers  will  suffer  the  establishment 
of  a  republic  here,  under  the  protection  of  Austria  ?  A  republic  upon 
the  body  politic  of  a  continent  of  monarchies,  which  like  a  schirrous  sore 
will  spread  disease  that  must  end  in  death  to  3:11!" 

'*  Of  what  republic  do  you  speak  ?" 


EMl'EROR  OF  AUSTRIA.  79 


CHAPTER  XX. 

THE    TKIUMPII    OF    DIPLOMACr. 

"I  SPEAK  of  Poland,"  paid  Kannitz,  with  His  accustomed  IndifFerence. 
"'I  speak  of  those  insolent  Cnnfedcraies,  who, emboldened  by  the  conde- 
scension of  your  Majesty  and  the  Emperor,  are  ready  to  dare  everything 
for  the  propagation  of  their  pernicious  political  doctrines.  They  have 
been  pleased  to  declare  Stanislaus  deposed  and  the  throne  of  Poland 
vacant.  This  declaration  has  been  committed  to  writing,  and  with  the 
signatures  of  the  leading  Confederates  attached  to  it,  has  been  actually 
placed  in  the  King's  hands,  in  his  own  palace  at  Warsaw.  Not  content 
with  this,  they  have  distributed  thousands  of  these  documents  through- 
out Poland,  so  that  the  question  to-day.  in  that  miserable  hornet's  nest, 
is  not  whether  the  rights  of  the  C<infederates  are  to  be  guaranteed  to. 
them,  but  whether  the  Kingdom  of  Poland  shall  remain  a  monarchy  or 
be  converted  into  a  republic." 

"  If  this  be  true,  then  Poland  is  lost,  and  there  is  no  hope  for  the' Con- 
federates," replied  the  Empress.  I  promised  them  protection  against 
foreign  aggression,  but  with  their  internal  quarrels  1  will  not   interfere." 

— "It  would  be  a  dangerous  precedent  if  Austria  should  justify  those 
v?ho  lay  sacreligious  hands  upon  the  crown  of  their  lawful  sovereign, 
and,  for  my  part,  my  principles  forbid  me  to  uphold  a  band  of  reibels, 
Vfho  are  engaged  in  an  insolent  conspiracy  to  dethrone  their  King." 

— "  You  are  right.  Prince,  it  will  never  do  for  us  to  uphold  them.  As 
I  have  openly  declared  my  sympathy  with  the  Confederates,  so  I  must; 
openly  express  to  them  my  entire  disapprobation  of  their  republican 
proclivities." 

"  If  your  Majesty  does  that,  a  war  with  France  will  be  the  conse- 
quence of  your  frankness.  France  has  promised  succor  to  the  Confede- 
rates, and  has  already  sent  Dumouries  with  troops,  arms  and  gold. — 
Franc^  is  longing  to  have  a  voice  in  the  differences  between  Russia  and 
Turkey,  and  she  only  awaits  co-operation  from  Austria  to  declare  openly 
against  Russia.  She  will  declare  against  ourselves,  if,  after  your  Majes- 
ty's promises,  we  suddenly  change  front  and  take  part  against  the  sedi- 
tious Poles." 

"  What  can  we  do  then  to  avert  war  1"  cried  the  Empress,  anxiously. 
"  Ah,  Prince,  you  see  that  the  days  of  my  youth  and  my  valor  are  past ! 
I  shudder  when  I  lookback  upon  the  blood  that  has  been  shed  under  my 
reign,  and  nothing  but  the  direst  necessity  will  ever  compel  me  to  be 
the  cau^e  of  spilling  another  drop  of  Austrian  blood.*  How  then  shall 
we  shape  our  cour.se  so  as  to  avoid  war  1" 

♦  Th»  Blmrrdtt  g  own  w^rdf.    T.  V.  ■BsTitnoT's  CnTitr'biitioTiii  toMoHprn  Hf»t<fl-T  vnlM.  r«8«  <^^ 


80  JOSEPH  THE  SECOND. 

"Our  policy,"  said  Kaunitz,  "is  to  do  nothing.  We  must  look  ou 
and  be  watchful,  while  wc  carefully  keep  our  own  counsel.  We  propi- 
tiate France  by  allowing  her  to  believe  in  the  continuance  of  our  sym- 
pathy with  the  Poles,  while  we  pacify  Russia  and  Prussia  by  remaining 
actually  neutral." 

"But  while  we  temporise  and  equivocate,"  cried  the  Empress,  with 
fervor,  "  Russia  will  annihilate  the  Poles,  who  if  they  have  gone  too  far 
in  their  thirst  foi^  freedom,  have  valiantly  contended  for  their  just  rights 
and  are  now  about  to  lose  them  through  the  evils  of  disunion.  It  grieves 
me  to  think  that  we  are  about  to  abandon  that  unhappy  nation  to  the 
oppression  of  that  woman,  who  stops  at  nothing  to  compass  her  wicked 
designs.  She,  who  did  not  shrink  from  the  murder  of  her  own  husband, 
do  you  imagine  that  she  will  stop  short  of  the  annexation  of  Poland  to 
Russia?" 

"  We  will  not  suffer  her  to  annex  Poland,"  said  Kaunitz,  slowly  nod- 
ding his  head.  "  As  long  as  we  are  at  peace  with  Russia  she  will  do 
nothing  to  provoke  our  enmity,  for  France  is  at  our  side,  and  even  Prus- 
sia would  remonstrate  if  Catharine  should  be  so  bold  as  to  appropriate 
Poland  to  herself  alone. ^^ 

"  You  are  mistaken.  The  King  of  Prussia,  who  is  so  covetous  of 
that  which  belongs  to  others,  M'ill  gladly  share  the  booty  with  Russia." 

"  Austria  could  never  suffer  the  co-partnership.  If  such  an  emergency 
should  arise,  we  would  have  to  make  up  our  minds  to  declare  war 
against  them  both,  or 

"  Or  V  asked  the  Empress,  holding  her  breath,  as  he  paused. 

"  Or,"  said  Kaunitz,  fixing  his  cold  blue  eye  directly  upon  her  face, 
"  or  we  would  have  to  share  with  them." 

"  Share  what  ?" 

"  The  apple  of  discord.  Anarchy  is  a  three-headed  monster ;  if  it  is 
to  be  destroyed,  every  head  must  fall.  It  is  now  "devouring  Poland, 
and  I  think  that  three  great  powers  are  strong  enough  to  slay  the  monster 
once  for  all." 

"  This  is  all  very  plausible,"  said  Maria  Theresa,  shaking  her  head, 
'*  but  it  is  not  just.  You  will  never  convince  me  that  good  can  be  bora 
of  evil.  What  you  propose  is  neither  more  nor  less  than  to  smite  the 
suppliant  that  lies  helpless  at  your  feet.  I  will  have  nothing  in  com- 
mon with  the  Messalina  who  desecrates  her  sovereignty  by  the  commis- 
sion of  every  unwomanly  crime ;  and  as  for  Frederic,  of  Prussia,  I  mis- 
trust him.  He  has  been  my  enemy  for  too  many  years,  for  me  ever  to 
believe  that  he  can  be  sincerely  my  friend." 

— "  France  was  our  enemy  for  th«:ee  hundred  years,  and  yet  we  are 
allied  by  more  than  ordinary  ties." 

"Our  alliance  will  soon  come  to  naught  if  we  walk  in  the  path  to 
which  you  would  lead  us.  Prince.  France  will  not  be  deaf  to  the  misery 
of  Poland.     She  will  hear  the  death-cry,  and  come  to  the  rescue." 

"  No,  your  Majesty,  Frante  will  wait  to  see  what  we  propose  to  do 
until  it  is  too  late,  aad  she  will  perceive  that  a  resort  to  arms  will  in  no 


EMPEROR  OP  AUSTRIA  81 

wise  affect  a  fait  accompli.  I,  therefore,  repeat  that  the  only  way  to 
prevent  ihe  Polish  conflagration  from  spreading  to  other  nations  is  for 
us  to  preserve  a  strict  neutrality,  taking  part  with  neither  disputant." 

"  War  must  be  averted,"  exclaimed  Maria  Theresa,  warmly.  "My 
first  duty  is  to  Austria,  and  Austria  must  have  peace.  To  preserve 
this  blessing  to  my  subjects,  I  will  do  anything  that  is  consistent  with 
my  honor  and  the  dictates  of  my  conscience." 

— "Ah,  your  Majesty,  diplomacy  has  no  conscience;  it  can  have  but 
one  rule — that  of  expediency." 

— "  You  concede  then  that  the  policy  you  advocate  is  not  a  conscien- 
tious one?" 

— "  No,  your  Majesty,  but  it  is  one  which  it  is  imperative  for  us  to 
follow.  Necessity,  alone,  decides  a  national  course  of  action.  A  good 
statesman  cannot  be  a  cosmopolitan.  He  looks  out  for  himself,  and 
leaves  others  to  do  the  same.  If  Poland  succumbs  it  will  be  because 
she  has  not  the  strength  to  live ;  therefore,  if  her  hour  be  come,  let  her 
die.  We  dare  not  go  .to  her  relief^  for  before  the  weal  of  other  nations 
we  must  have  peace  and  prosperity  for  Austria." 

"  But  suppose  that  France  should  insist  that  we  define  our  position  ?" 

— "  Then  we  can  do  so— in  words.  It  is  so  easy  to  hide  one's  thoughts 
while  we  assure  our  allies  of  our  ♦  distinguished  consideration.'  " 

"The  .Empress  heaved  a  deep  sigh.  "  I  see,"  said  she,  "that  clouds 
are  gathering  over  the  political  horizon,  and  that  you  are  resolved  to 
shield  your  own  house,  while  the  tempest  devastates  the  homo  of  your 
neighbor.  Be  it  so.  I  must  have  peace ;  for  I  have  no  right  to  sacrifice 
my  people  before  the  altars  of  strange  gods.  This  is  my  first,  great  ob- 
ligation, and  all  other  claims  must  give  way  to  it.  Thci/  must  give  wat/,^* 
continued  the  Empress,  slowly  communing  with  herself,  "  but,  oh,  it 
seems  cruel !  I  scarcely  dare  ask  myself  what  is  to  be  the  fate  of  Po- 
land. Heaven  direct  us,  for  all  human  wisdom  has  come  to  naught !" 
Then  turning  towards  Kaunitz,  she  held  out  her  hand.  "Go,  Prince," 
said  she,  "  and  be  a:'sured  that  what  we  have  spoken  to  each  other  to- 
day shall  remain  sacred  between  us." 

The  Prince  bowed,  and  left  the  room. 

The  Empress  was  alone.  She  went  to  and  fro,  while  her  disturbed 
countenance  betrayed  the  violent  struggle  that  was  raging  in  her  noble, 
honest  heart. 

"  I  know  what  they  want,"  murmured  she.  "  Joseph  thirsts  for  glory 
and  conquest,  and  Kaunitz  upholds  him.  They  want  their  share  of  the 
booty.  And  they  will  overrule  my  sympathy,  and  prove  to  me  that  I 
am  bound  to  inaction.  Poland  will  be  dismembered,  and  I  will  bear 
my  portion  of  the  crime.  I  shudder  at  the  deed,  and  yet  I  cannot  raise 
my  hand  without  shedding  my  people's  blood.  I  must  take  counsel  of 
Heaven." 

She  rang,  and  commanded  the  presence  of  her  Confessor.  "  Perhaps 
he  will  throw  9om«  light  upon  this  darkness,  and  the  just  God  will  do 
the  rest !" 


tS'Z  ^'  JOSEPH  TllE  SECOND. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

GOSSIPS. 

The  Countess  Wielopolska  was  alone  in  her  room.  She  walked  to 
and  fro,  sometimes  sto;;)plug  before  a  large  pier-glass  to  survey  her  own 
person,  sometimes  hastening  to  the  window  at  sound  of  a  carriage  pass- 
ing by,  then  retiring  disappointed  as  the  vehicle  went  on. 

"  He  comes  late,"  thought  she.  "  Perhaps  he  has  forgotten  that  he 
promised  to  come.  Gracious  Heaven,  what  if  he  should  be  proof 
against  the  blandishments  of  woman  !  I  fear  me  he  is  too  cold,  and  Po- 
land will  be  lost !  And  yet  his  eye,  when  it  rests  upon  me,  speaks  the 
language  of  love,  and  his  hand  trembles  when  it  touches  mine.  Ah  ! — 
And  I — when  he  is  by,  I  sometimes  forget  the  great  cause  for  which  I 
live,  and — no,  no,  no !"  exclaimed  she,  aloud,  "it  must  not,  shall  not  be  ! 
lly  heart  must  know  but  one  loto,  the  love  of  country.  Away  with 
such  silly,  girlish  dreaming  !     I  am  ashamed " 

Here  the  Countess  paused  to  listen  again,  for  this  time  a  carriage 
stopped  before  the  door,  and  the  little  French  clock  struck  the  hour. 

"  He  comes,"  whispered  she,  scarcely  breathing,  and  she  turned  her 
bright  smiling  face  towards  the  door.  It,  opened  and  admitted  a  young 
woman,  whose  marvellous  beauty  was  enhanced  by  all  the  auxiliarie^s  of 
a  superb  toilet  and  a  profusion  of  magnificent  jewels. 

"  Countess  Zamoiska,"  exclaimed  the  disappointed  hostess,  coming 
forward  and  striving  to  keep  up  the  smile. 

"  And  why  such  a  cold  reception,  my  dear  Anna "?"  asked  the  visitor, 
with  a  warm  embrace.  "  Am  I  not  always  the  same  Luschinka,  to 
whom  yon  vowed  eternal  friendship  when  we  were  schoolgirls  together  ?" 

"  Yes,  we  vowed  eternal  friendship,"  sighed  the  Countess  WielopOlsIta, 
"  but  since  we  were  happy  school-girls,  six  years  have  gone  by,  and  so 
many  fearful  tragedies  have  arisen  to  darken  our  lives  and  embitter  our 
young  hearts." 

"  Pshaw,"  said  the  lady,  casting  admiring  glances  at  herself  in  the  mir- 
ror, "  1  do  not  know  why  these  years  should  be  so  sad  to  you  ;  they 
have  certainly  improved  your  beauty,  for  I  declare  to  you,  Anna,  that 
you  were  scarcely  as  pretty  when  jou  ^eft  school  as  you  are  to-day. — 
Am  I  altered  for  the  worse?  My  heart,  as  you  see,  has  not  changed, 
for  as  soon  as  I  heard  you  were  in  Vienna  I  flew  to  embrace  you.  What; 
a  pity  your  family  would  mix  themselves  up  in  those  hateful  politics ! 
You  might  have  been  the  leader  of  fashion  in  Warsaw.  And  your  stu- 
pid husband,, too,  to  think  of  his  killing  himself  on  the  very  day  of  a 
m.'ir.ltpd  bfill.  .md  npoilinr^  th?  tovrI  <p!fldnl1e." 


?ht 


EMPEKOii  t»F  AUS1K1A.»  S3 

"The  royal  quadrille."  echoed  the  Countess,  in  an  absent  tone,  "yes, 
King,  General  liepnin,  he  who  put,  to  death  so  many  Polish  nobles, 
and  the  brutal  Branicki,  whose  pastirae  it  is  to  set  fire  to  Polish  villages, 
they  were  to  have  been  the  other  dancers."  j   . 

"Yes,  and  they  completed  their  quadrille,  in  spite  of  Count  "Wielo- 
polski.  Bibeskoi  offered  hiiniltlf  as  a  substitute,  and  sat  up  the  whole 
night  to  learn  the  figures.     Biii^skoi  is  a  delightful  partner."  . 

"  A  Russian,"  exclaimed  the  Countess. 

"What  signifies  a  man's  nation  when  he  dances  well?"  laughed  the 

lady. 

^' Din  done  ma  chore,  arc  you  still  mad  on  the  subject  of  politics? — 
And  do  you  still  sympathise  with  the  p6or  crazy  Conlcderates  V 

"  You  know,  Luschinka,  that  Count  Pac  was  my  father's  dearest 
friend." 

"  I  know  it,  poor  man,  he  is  at  the  top  and  bottom  of  all  the  trouble. 
I  beseech  you  chore  Anna,  let  us  put  aside  politics,  I  cannot  see  what, 
pleasure  a  woman  ciin  find  in  such  tiresome  things.  Mon  Dieu,  there 
Are  so  many  other  things  more  pleasing  as  well  as  more  important !  For 
instance :  How  do  people  pass  their  time  in  Vienna'?  Have  you  many 
lovers'?     Do  you  go  to  many  balls  ?"' 

"  Do  you  think  me  so  base  that  1  could  dance  while  Poland  is  in 
chains  ?"  said  the  Countess,  frowning. 

The  Countess  Zamoiska  laughed  aloud.  "  Voyons — are  you  going  to 
play  Jeanne  d'Arc  to  bring  female  heroism  into  fashion?  Oh,  Anna! 
Wc  have  never  had  more  delightful  balls  in  Warsaw  than^iave  been 
given  since  so  many  Russian  regiments  have  been  stationed  there." 

"  You  have  danced  with  those  who  murder  your  brothers  a\rd  rela- 
tives!    Danced  while  the  people  of  Poland  arctrodden  under  foot !" 

"■Ah  bah!  Ne  parlez  pas  du  pcuple  !''''  cried  the  Countess  Zamoiski, 
■with  a  gefiture  of  disgust.  "  A  set  of  beastly  peasants,  no  better  than 
their  own  cattle,  or  a  band  of  genteel  robbers,  who  have,inade  it  unsafe 
to  live  anywhere  on  Polish  soil,  even  in  Warsav,-." 

"  You  are  right,"  sighed  the  Countess  Wielopolska,  "  let  us  drop  pol- 
itics and  speak  of  other  things." 

— '■'■  A  la  bonne  hcure.  Let  us  have  a  little  chroniqve  scandaleuse. 
Ah  ma  chore,  I  am  at  home  there,  for  we  lead  an  enchanting  life  in 
Warsaw.  The  King  is  a  handsome  man,  and.  in  spite  of  the  Empress 
Catharine,  his  heart  is  still  susceptible  of  the  tender  passion.  You  re- 
Juember  his  liaison  with  the  Countess  Kanizka,  your  sister-in-law  V 

— "  A  base,  dishonored  woman,  who  stooped  to  be  the  mistress  of  the 
man  who  has  betrayed  her  country."  ^, 

— "  A  King,  nevertheless,  and  a  very  handsome  man,  and  sSc  was  in- 
consolable when  he  ceased  to  love  her." 

"  Ah  !  she  was  abandoned  then,  was, she?"  cried'the  Countcbs  Wielo- 
polska. 

,   — "  Oh  no,  dear  Anna !     Your  sister-in-law  was  not  guilty  of  the  betise 
of  flaring  qnpcn  T>ido.     A?  she  i'vK  qnitc  snrc    that  the    Kinrr   would 


84  JOSEPH  THE  SEC05]>. 

leave  her  soon  or  late,  she  anticipated  the  day,  and  left  him.  Was  it  not 
excellent  1    She  went  off  with  Prince  Repnin"  ^ 

— *'  Prince  Repnin  !"  exclaimed  the  Countess  with  horror.  *'  The 
Russian  Ambassador !" 

— "  The  same.  You  should  have  seen  the  despair  of  the  King.  But 
he  was  amiable  even  in  his  grief.  H« tried  all  sorts  of  lover's  strate- 
gemsto  win  back  the  Countess:  he  prdwled  around  her  house  at  night 
singing  like  a  Troubadour,  he  wrote  her  bushels  of  letters  to  implore  an 
interview.  All  in  vain.  The  liaison  with  Repnin  was  made  public,  and 
that,  of  course  ended  the  affair.  The  King  was  inconsolable.*  He  gave 
ball  after  ball,  never  missed  an  evening  at  the  theatre,  gambled  all  night, 
gave  sleighing  parties,  and  so  on,  but  it  was  easy  to  see  that  his  heart 
■was  broken,  and  had  not  Tissona,  the  pretty  caniatrice,  succeeded  in 
comforting  him,  I  really  do  believe  that  our  handsome  King  would  have 
killed  himself  for  despair." 

"Ah,  he  is  consoled,  is  heT'  said  the  Countess  with  curling  lips." 

"  He  jests  and  dances,  serenades  and  gambles,  while  the  gory  knout 
reeks  with  the  noblest  blood  in  Poland,  and  her  noblest  sons  are  stag- 
gering along  the  frozen  wastes  of  Siberia  !  Oh  Stanislaus  !  Stanislaus! 
A  day  of  reckoning  will  come  for  him  who  wears  the  splendor  of  royal- 
ty, yet  casts  away  its  obligations  !" 

"  Fraiwen^,  dear  Anna,  to  hear  your  rhapsodies,  one  would  almost 
believe  you  to  be  one  of  the  Confederates  who  lately  attempted  the  life 
of  the  King,"  cried  the  Countess  Zamoiska,  laughing. 

"  Who  attempted  the  King's  life?"  said  the  Countess,  turning  pale. 

— "  Why  three  robbers,  Lukawski,  Strawinski,  and  Kosinski." 

" I  never  heard  of  it,"  replied  the  Countess,  much  agitated.  "Tell 
rae  what  you  know  of  it,  if  you  can  Luschinka." 

'"  It  is  an  abominable  thing,  and  long  too,"  said  Luschinka,  with  a  shrug. 
The  conspirators  were  disguised  as  peasants,  and  actually  had  the 
assurance  to  come  to  Warsaw.  There  were  thirty  of  them,  but  the  three 
1  tell  you  of  were  the  leaders.  The  King  was  on  his  way  to  his  uncle's 
palace,  which  is  in  the  suburbs  of  Warsaw.  They  had  the  insolence  to,^ 
fall  upon  him  in  the  streets,  and  his  attendants  got  frightened  and  run 
off.  Then  the  conspirators  tore  the  King  from  his  coach  and  carried  him 
off,  swearing  that  if  he  uttered  one  cry  they  would  murder  him.  Wasn't 
it  awful  ?  Do  you  think  that  the  dear  King  didn't  have  the  courage  to 
keep  as  quiet  as  a  mouse  while  they  took  him  off  with  them  to  the  for- 
est of  Bielani.  Here  they  robbed  him. of  all  he  had,  leaving  him  noth- 
ing but  the  ribbon  that  belonged  to  the  order  of  the  White  Eagle.  Then 
they  dispersed  to  give  the  news  of  his  capture  to  their  accomplices,  and 
Kosinsfti  was  left  to  dispatch  him.     Did  you  ever!" 

"  Further,  further,"  said  the  Countess,  scarcely  able  to  speak,  as  her 
old  school  mate  paused  in  her  narrative. 

Luschinka  laughed.  "  Doesn't  it  sound  just  like  a  fairy  tale,  Anna? 
But  it  is  as  true  as  I  live,  and  happened  on  the  third  of  November  of 


tbia  blessed  year  1771.  So  Koainski  and  six  others  dr&gged  ftcd  dr^jg 
ged  the  King  until  he  losi  his  shoes  and  was  all  torn  and  scratched,  and 
even  woun^ied.  \\  ht'oever  the  others  wanted  to  atop  and  kill  the  King. 
Kosinski  objected  that  the  place  was  not  lonely  enough.  All  at  ooce 
thoy  came  upon  the  Russian  patrol.  Then  the  five  other  murderers  ran 
off  leaving  the  King  and  Kosinski  alone. ' 

''And  Kosinski  ?"  asked  the  Countess  with  anxiety. 

— "Kosinski  went  on  with  hi*  sword  drawn  over  the  King's  head,  al- 
though he  begged  him  for  rest.  But  the  King  saw  that  Kosinski  locked 
undecided  and  uneasy,  so  as  they  came  near  to  the  Convent  of  Bielani,  he 
said  to  Kosinski,  '  I  see  that  you  don't  know  which  way  to  act,  so  you 
had  better  let  me  go  into  the  Convent  to  hide,  while  you  make  your  es 
cape  by  some  other  way.'  But  Kosinski  said  no,  he  had  sworn  to  kill 
him.  So  they  went  on  further  until  they  came  to  Mariemont,  a  Castle 
belonging  to  the  Elector  of  Saxony.  Here  the  King  becged  for  rest, 
and  'hey  sat  down  and  began  to  talk.  Then  Kosinski  told  the  King  that 
he  was  not  killing  him  of  his  own  \Vill,  but  because  he  had  been  ordered 
to  do  so  by  others^j  to  puni-h  the  King  for  all  his  sins,  poor  fellow! 
against  Poland.  The  King  t>heu  said  it  was  not  his  fault  but  all  thf) 
fault  of  Russia,  and  at  last  he  softened  the  murderer's  heart.  Kosinski 
threw  himself  at  the  King's  feet  and  begged  pardon,  and  promised  to 
save  him.  So  Stanislaus  promised  to  forgive  him  and  it  was  all  arran- 
ged between  them.  They  went  on  to  a  mill  near  Mariemont  and  beg- 
ged tlie  miller  to  let  in  two  travellers  who  had  lost  their  way.  At  first 
the  miller  took  them  to  be  robbers,  but  after  a  great  deal  of  begging  he 
let  them  in.  Then  the  King  tore  a  leaf  out  of  his  pocket-book  and  wrote 
a  note  to  General  Cocceji.  The  miller's  daughter  took  it  to  Warsaw, 
not  without  much  begging  on  the  King's  part,  and  you  can  conceive  the 
joy  of  the  people  when  they  heard  that  the  King  was  safe,  for  everybody 
seeing  his  cloak  in  the'  streets  and  his  hat  and  plume  on  the  road  natu- 
rally supposed  that  he  had  been  murdered.  Well — General  Cocceji  fol- 
lowed by  the  whole  Court  hurried  to  the  mill,  and  when  they  arrived 
there  was  Kosinski  standing  before  the  door  with  a  drawn  sword  in  his 
hand.  lie  let  in  the  General,  and  there  on  the  floor,  in  the  miller's 
shirt,  lay  the  King  fast  asleep.  So  Cocceji  went  down  on  his  knees  and 
kissed  his  hand  and  called  him  his  lord  and  King,  and  the  people  of  the 
mill,  who  had  never  dreamed  who  it  was,  all  dropped  on  their  knees  and 
begged  for  mercy.  So  the  King  then  forgave  everybody,  and  went  back 
to  Warsaw  with  Cocceji.  This  my  dear  is  a  true  history  of  the  attempt 
that  was  made  by  the  Confederates  on  the  life  of  the  handsomest  man  in 
Polawd  !"* 

"A  strange  and  sad  history,"  said  the  Countess  Anna.  "  However 
guilty  the  King  may  be,  it  would  still  be  disgraceful  if  he  were  murder- 
ed by  his  own  subjects." 

— "  Oh  my  love,  these  Confederates  refuse  to  acknowledge  him  for 
'  *Wraxall.    Memolri.    yoL2,  p.  76 


their  King.     Did  you  not  know  that  they  had  been  so  ridiculous  as  to 
depo^io  him?"    ' 

■'  ^V'hat  have  tHe  Confederntes  to  do  with  a  baud  of  robbers  who  plun^ 
<icrt?d  the  King  and  would  have  murdered  him  ?"  asked  Anna  indignant^ 
J  v.  "Arc  thoy  to  be  mode  answerable  for  the  crimes  of  a  horde  of  baa- 
dittif       "      *  .  . 

"Ma  ch'Jre,  the  banditti  wore  tho  tools  of  the  Confederate?.  They 
have  been  taken  and  everything  has  been  discovered.  Pulawski,  their 
great  hero,  hired  the  assassins  i:nd  bound  them  by  an  oath.  Letters- 
found  upon  Lukawski,  who  boasts  of  his  share  in  the  villany,  show  that 
Pu'awski  was  the  head  conspirator,  and  than  the  plot  had  been  approved 
]^y  Zaremba  and  Pac!" 

"Then  all  is  lost,"  murmured  Anna..  "If  the  Confederates  have  sul- 
lied the  honor  of  Poland  by  consenting  to  crime  as  a  means  to  work  out 
her  independence,  Poland  v.ill  never  regain  her  freedom.  Oh  that  I 
>hould  have  lived  to  see  this  day  1" 

She  covered  her  face  with  her  hands  and  sobbed  aloud. 

"  Vrahnrnt,  Anna,"  said  the  Countess  Zamoiska  pettishly,  *'  I  cannot 
understand  you.  instead  of  rejoicing  over  the  King's  escape,  her^.you 
begin  to  cry  over  the  sins  of  his  murderers.  All  Poland  is  exasperated 
against  them,  and  nothing  can  save  them."'  So  dear  Anna  dry  your  eyes 
they  will  be  as  red  as  a  cardinal's  hat.  Goodness  me,  if  I  hadn't  won- 
derful strength  of  raindj  I  might  have  cried  myself  into  a  fright  long  ago, 
for  you  have  no  idea  of  the  sufferings  I  have  lived  through.  You  talk  6P 
Poland,  and  never  ask  a  word  about  myself.  It  shows  how  little  inter- 
cs%  you  feel  in  me  that  you  still  call  me  by  the  name  of  my  first  hus- 
band." 

"Are  you  married  a  second  time?"  asked  Anna,  raising  her  head. 

■; — '■^Ah  ma  chcre^  my  name  has  not  been  Zamoiska  for  four  years. 
Dear  me  !  The  King  knows  what  misery  it  is  to  be  tied  to  a  person 
that  loves  you  no  iongcy,  and  luckily  for  us,  he  has  the  pdwer  of  divorce. 
.He  does  it  for  the  asking,  and  every  divorce  is  a  signal  for  a  succession 
of  brilliant  balls ;  for  yon  understand  that  people  don't  part  to  go  off 
and  pout.  They  re-marry  at  once,  and  of  course,  everybody  gives  balls, 
routs  and  dinners  in  honor  of  the  weddings." 

"•^  Have  you  married  agairi  in  this  way  V  asked  the  Countess  gravely^ 

"Oh,  yes,"  replied  the  unconscious  Luschinka,  "  I  have  been  twice 
married  and  twice  divorced.  But  it  was  not  my  fault.  I  loved  ray  first 
husband  with  a  depth  of  passion  which  he  fould  not  appreciate,  and  I  was 
in  an  agony  of  despair,  when  six  months  after  our  marriage  he  told  me 
T.hat  he  ioved  me  no  longer  and  was  dying  for  the  Countess  Luwiendo. 
She  was  my  bosom  friend,  so  you  can  imagine  my  grief;  mais  j'ai  su 
fyire  bonne  mine  d  maiivais  jenx.  1  invited  the  Countess  to  my  villa,  and 
ihere  under  the  sha'de  of  the  old   trees  in  the  park,  we  walked  arm  in 

•  Lukawski  and  Strawinski  r/ere  oxeeutcd.  Thev  (lied  caTsing  Kosinski  a»  a  traitor.  "Wraxall. 
To!.  L' :    v>.  Sa. 


LilhEROR  ^i   ALSilUi  ."^7 

arm  and  arranged  with  mj  husbaud  all  the  conditions  of  the  aefar.'i'tlcy.i. 
Every  one  praised  my  frenerous  conduct;  the  men  in  particular  were  in 
raptures,  and  Prince  Lubomirski  on  the  strength  of  it,  fell  so  desperi^tc- 
J^  in  love  with  me  that  he  divorced  his  wife  and  ofiercd  me  his  hand."' 

"You  did  not  accept  it!"  exclaimed  Countess  Anna. 

"  "What  a  fjucstion  !"  said  the  excountess  pouting.  "  Tlie  l^rince  was 
young,  rich,  charming,  and  a  great  fjix  orite  with  the  King.  AVe  loved 
one  another,  and  of  course,  were  married.  But,  indeed,  my  dear,  love 
does  seem  to  have  such  butterfly  wings  that  you  scarcely  oatchit  before^ 
it  is  gone  f — My  second  husband  broke  my  heart  exactly  as  rhy  first  had 
done;  he  asked  me  to  leave  him,  and  of  cx^>nrse  1  had  to  go.  Men  an^ 
abominable  beings,  Anna  :  scarcely  were  we  divorced  before  he  married 
a  third  wife."'* 

"Poland  is  lost — lost — ,"  murmured  the  Countess  Anna.  "  She  Is 
falling  under  the  weigljt  of  her  children's  crimes.  Lost! — Oh  Poland. 
My  unhappy  country  !" 

— "  An  contraire  ma  chert.  Warsaw  was  never  gayer  than  it  is  at  prc; 
sent.  Did  I  not  tell  you  that  every  divorce  was  fallowed  by  a  mar- 
riage, and  that  the  King  was  delighted  with  the  masquerades  and  balls' 
and  all  that  sort  of  thing  ?  Why  nothing  is  heard  in  Warsaw  at. night 
but  laughter,  music,  and  the  chink  of  glasses." 

"  And  nevertheless  you  could  tear  yourself  away  V  said  the  Countess 
ironically. 

"  1  had  to  go,"  sighed  the  P;incpss.  "  1  am  on  my  way  to  Italy.  You 
sec,  ma  dure,  it  would  have  been  inconvenant  and  might  have  made  mo 
ridiculous  to  go  out  in  society,  meeting  my  husbands  with  their  two 
wives,  and  I — abandoned  by  l;oth  these  faithless  men.  I  should  have 
been  obliged  to  marry  a  third  time  but  my  heart  revolted  against  it." 

— "  Then  you  travel  alone  to  Italy  V 

By  no  means,  mon  aviour,  1  am  travelling  with  the  most  bcwifching 
creature  ! — my  lover.  Oh,  Anna,  he  is  the  handsomest  man  I  ever  laid 
my  eyes  upon  ;  the  most  delightful,  and  he  paints  so  divinely  that  the 
Empress  Catharine  has  appointed  him  her  court  painter.  I  love  him 
beyond  all  expression  ;  I  adore  him  ! — You  need  not  smile,  Anna,  gi/r 
voulcz  vous?     Lc  coeur  tovjours  vierge  povr  un  second  amour.     • 

"  If  you  love  him  so  dearly,  why  then  does  your  heart  revolt  against 
a  marriage  with  him  1"  asked  the  Countess  An'^a. 

"  I  told  you  he  was  a  painter,  and  not  a  nobleman,"  answered  the  ex- 
Princess,  impatiently.  "  One  loves  an  Artist,  but  cannot  marry  him. 
Do  you  suppose  I  would  be  so  ridiculous  as  to  give  up  my  title  to  be 
the  respectable  wife  of  a  painter?  The  Princess  Lubomirska  a  Madam 
Wiind,  simple  Wand  I  Oh,  no  !  I  .shall  travel  with  him,  but  I  will  not 
marry  him." 

"Then  go!"  exclaimed  the  Countess  Anna,  rising,  and  casting  looks  . 
of  scorn  upon  the  Princess.     "  Degenerate   daughtef  of  a   degenerate 
fatherland,  go,  and  drag  our  shame  with  you  to  Italy.     Go,  and  enjor 


,^^l 


38  '  ^OaEFH  THE  SE0O?Jl>i  , 

Tour  sinful  lusts  while  Poland  breathes  her  last,  and  vultures  prey  upon 
her  dishonored  corpse.  But  take  with  you  the  contempt  of  eVery  Polish 
heitrt,  that  beats  with  love  for  the  land  that  gave  you  birth  !" 

She  turned,  and  without  a  word  of  farewell,  proudly  left  the  room. — 
The  Princess  raised  her  btow  and  opened  her  pretty  mouth  in  bewilder- 
ment, then  rising,  and  going  up  to  the  mirror,  she  smoothed  her  hair  and 
began  to  laugh. 

"•  What  a  pathetic  fool !"  said  she,  "  Anybody  might  know  that  her 
mother  had  been  an  actress.  To  think  of  the  daughter  of  an  Artist  get- 
ting up  a  scene  because  a  Prince^^s  will  not  stoop  to  marry  a  painter  ! 
Quelle  betise.'''' 

Witk  these  words  she  walked  back  to  her  carriage  and  drove  off. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

AN   EXPLANATION. 

The  Countess  Anna,  meanwhile,  had  retired  to  her  room.  Exhausted 
by  her  own  emotions,  she  sank  into  a  chair,  and  clasping  her  hands  con- 
vulsively, she  stared,  with  distended  eyes,  upon  the  blank  wall  opposite. 

She  was  perfectly  unconscious  that,  after  a  time,  the  door  had  opened 
and  Matuschka  stood  before  her.  It  was  not  until  the  old  woman  had 
taken  her  hand  and  raised  it  to  her  lips,  that  she  started  from  her  mourn- 
ful reverie. 

"  What  now,  Matuschka  1"  said  she,  awakening  from  her  dream. 

"  My  lady,  I  come  to  know  what  we  are  to  do.  The  pearl  necklace 
and  wreath  are  sold,  and  they  have  maintained  the  Countess  Wielopolska 
as  beseems  her  rank,  but  we  live  upon  our  capital,  and  it  lessens  every 
day.  Oh,  my  lady,  why  will  you  conceal  your  poverty  when  the  Ena- 
peror " 

"  Peace!"  interrupted  the  Countess.  "  When  we  speak  of  our  pov-. 
erty  don't  name  the  Emperor.  If  there  is  no  more  money  in  our  purse, 
take  the  diadem  of  brilliants,  sell  the  diamonds  and  replace  them  with 
false  stones.  They  will  bring  a  thousand  ducats,  and  that  sum  will  last 
us  for  a  whole  year."  |^ 

"  And  then  ?"  sobbed  Matuschka. 

«  And  then,"  echoed  the  Countess,  thoughtfully.  '  Then  we  will 
either  be  happy  or  ready  for  death.  Go,  Matuschka,  let  no  one  know 
that  I  am  selling  my  diamonds ;  but  replace  them  by  to-morrow  morn- 
iag  ;  for  I  must  wear  them  at  the  Emperor's  reception." 

"  Your  whole  set,  pearls  and  diamonds  we  now  false,"  said  the  per- 


-^^ 


EMPEKOK  or  AUSTRIA  89 

aevering  servant.    *'  What  will  the  Emperor  say  v?hen  he  hears  of  if?" 

'•  lf(>  must  never  know  of  it.     Now  go,  and  return  qnicljl y-" 

Matuschka,  lo'^king  almost  anfjri'y  at  her  lady,  left  the  room.  In  the 
antc-rootn  stood  a  man,  wrapped  in  a  cloak.  She  went  quic«]y  up  to- 
him  with  the  open  etui. 

"The.diamond  coronet,"  whispered  she.  "I  am  to  sell  the  jewels 
and  have  their  places  filled  with  false  ones.  It  is  to  be  dune  before  to- 
morrow." . 

"How  much  does  she  expect  for  if?"  asked  the   visitor  in  a  low 

voice. 

— "A  thousani  ducats,  sire." 

— "  I  will  send  the  sum  to-night.  Hide  the  coronet  until  to-morrow, 
and  then  return  it  to  her.     Where  is  she  1" 

— ''In  her  cabinet,  your  Majesty. 

— "  Let  no  one  enter  until  I  return." 

He  then  threw  down  his  cloak,  and  without  knocking,  opened  the  door. 
The  Countess  was  still  lost  in  thought.  She  still  gazed  at  the  blank 
wall,  and  heard  the  flippant  voice  which  had  poured  out  its  profanity  as 
though  life  had  been  a  jest,  and  immortality  a  dream. 

The  Emperor  stopped  to  contemplate  for  a  moment,  and  his  large, 
loving  eyes  rested  fondly  noble  form. 

"  Countess  Anna,"  said  he,'  softly. 

"  The  Emperor !"  exclaimed  she,  rising  and  coming  joyfully  forward, 
while  a  deep  blu9<i  overspread  her  face. 

— "What?  Will  you  not  respect  my  incognito?  Will  you  not  re- 
ceive  me  as  Count  Falkenstein?" 

"  Is  not  the  name  of  the  Emperor  the  first  that  is  pronounced  by  the 
priest  when  he  prays  before  the  altar  for  his  fellow-creatures?"  replied 
she,  with  an  enchanting  snVile.  "  Think  of  my  heart  as  a  priest,  and  let 
that  name  be  ever  the  first.     I  speak  in  my  prayers  to  heaven. 

"  By  heaven,  if  priests  resembled  you,  I  should  not  hate  them  as  I  do. 
Come,  my  lovely  priestess,  then  call  me  Emperor  if  you  will,  but  receive 
me  as  Count  Falkenslein." 

*'  Welcome  Count,"  replied  she  cheerfully. 

"God  be  praised  then,  ray  royalty  has  disappeared  for  awhile,"  said 
Joseph. 

— '•  And  yet  my  lord  and  Emperor,  it  is  the  privilege  of  royalty  to 
heal  all  wounds,  to  wipe  away  all  tears,  and  to  comfort  all  sorrow. — 
What  a  magnificent  prerogative  it  is  to  hold  in  one's  own  hand  the  hap- 
piness of  thousands." 

"  What  is  happiness,  sweet  moralist  ?"  cried  Joseph.  "  Mankind  are 
forever  in  search  of  it,  yet  no  man  has  ever  found  it." 

"  What  is  happiness  !"  exclaimed  she,  with  enthusiasm.  "It  is  to 
have  the  power  of  ruling  destiny — it  is  to  stand  upon  the  Himmalcynh 
of  your  might,  when  stretching  forth  your  imperial  hand,  you  can  say  to 
the  oppressed  among  nations,  '  come  unto  me,  ye  who  strive  against  ty- 
ranny, and  I  will  give  you  freedom.'  " 


:ij()  JOSEPH  THR  biiCONDj 

"  In  other  words,  replied  the  Emperor,"  with  an  arch  smile,  "  it  is  to 
march  to  Poland  and  give  battle  to  the  Empress  of  Kussia." 

"  It  is,  it  is^!"'  cried  she,  with  the  fervor  of  a  Miriam.  "  It  is  to  be  the 
Messiah  of  crucified  Freedom,  to  redeem  your  fellows  from  bondage, 
and  to  earn  the  blessings  of  a  people  to  whom  your  natus,  for  all  time, 
will  stand  as  the  type  of  all  that  is  great  in  a  sovereign  and  good  in  a 
man  !  Oh,  Emperor  of  Austria,  be  the  generous  redeemer  of  my 
country !" 

And  scarce  knowing  what  she  said,  she  took  his  hand  and  pressed  it 
to  her  heart. 

Joseph  withdrew  it,  gently,  saying,  "  peace,  lovely  enthusiast,  peace  ! 
Give  politics  to  the  winds  !  She  is  an  abominable  old  hag,  and  the  very 
rustling  of  her  Sybilline  leaves,  as  she  turns  them  over  in  the  Cabinet  of 
the  Empress,  makes  me  shudder  with  disgust.  Let  us  drive  her  hence 
then.  1  came  hither  to  taste  a  few  draughts  of  happiness  at  your  side, 
sweet  Anna." 

The  Countess  sighed  wearily,  as  the  Emperor  drew  her  to  his  side, 
.  and  her  pale,  inspired  face  was  turned  upon  him  with  a  look  of  unutter- 
able anguish. 

The  Emperor  saw  it  and  leaned  his, head  back  upon  the  cushion  of  the 
sofa.     After  a  pause  he  said,  '■  How  sweet  it  is  to  be  here !" 

"And  yet  you  came  late,"'  whispered  she,  reproachfully. 

"  Because  I  travelled  by  a  circuitous  route,  got  into  one  hackney  coach 
and  out  of  another,  drove  hither,  thither,  and  everywhere,  to  bafile  my 
mother's  spies.  Do  you  suppose  that  any  one  of  her  bigoted  followers 
would  believe  in  a  chaste  friendship  like  ours  ?  Do  you  suppose  they 
would  understand  the  blameless  longings  I  have  to  see  your  lovely  face, 
and  to  listen  to  the  melody  of  your  matchless  voice"?  Tell  me  Countess 
Anna,  how  have  1  deserved  the  rich  boon  of  your  friendship/?" 

"  Nay,  Count  Ealkenstein,"  replied  she,  with  a  bewitching  smile,  ".tell 
me  how  I  have  earned  yours.  Moreover,  who  tells  you  that  I  am  dis- 
interested in  my  sentiments?  The  day  may  come  when  you  will  un- 
derstand how  entirely  I  rely  upon  you  tor  assistance." 

"  But  you  have  not  given  your  friendship  exclusivel}'"  for  the  sake  of 
•.the  day  that  may  come  ?  Have  you?"  said  the  Emperor,  with  a  pierc- 
Jng  glance  at  her  beautiful  pale  face. 

The  Countess  cast  down  her  eyes  and  blushed.  "  Do  you  mistrust 
lue  V  asked  she,  in  a  low,  trembling  voice. 

"  Give  me  a  proof  of  your  confidence  in  me,"  said  Joseph,  rising  and 
taking  both  her  hands  in  his.  "  You  call  me  friend — give  me  then  the 
right  of  a  friend.  Let  me,  in  some  degree,  replace  to  you  the  fortune 
of  which  the  Russian  Empress  has  robbed  you."  '         . 

"You  are  mistaken,  sire,"  said  the  Countess,  proudly,  "  the  Russian 
Empress  did  not  rob  me  of  everything.  She  took  my  lands,  but  I  have 
invested  funds  in  foreign  securities  which  yield  me  an  ample  income.  I 
-have  also,  my  family  jewels,  and  as  long  as  you  see  me  wearing  them, 
von  may  feel  sure  that  1  have  other  meanK  of  support." 


The  Emperor  shook  his  head.  "You  are  nc)t  wearing  your  iHUiily 
jewels,  Anna,"  sairl  he. 

"  How  sire!"  exclaimed  she,  blu^'hinc:. 

He  leaned  over,  and  in  a  low  voice  said,  "  your  jewels  are  filse,  your 
pearls  are  imitation,  and  there  is  not  a  single  diamond  in  that  coronet 
you  intend  to  wear  at  niy  mother's  reception  to-morrow," 

The  cheeks  of  the  Omntess  grew  scarlet  with  confusiun,  and  her  head 
drooped  with  shame.  The  Emperor  laid  his  hand  upon  her  arm.  "  Now 
Anna,"  said  he,  tenderly,  "now  that  I  know  all,  grant  ine  the  happiness 
of  relieving  you  from  your  temporary  embarrass^ment^.  Gracious  hea- 
ven !  You  w'ho  are  not  ashamed  to  confide  your  distress  to  pawn  brokers 
and  jewellers,  yon  refuse  to  trust  me  /" 

"  1  would  rather  be  under  obligations  to  a  stranger  than  to  a  friewd," 
returned  the  Countess,  in  a  voice  scarcely  audible. 

"But  Anna,"  cried  the  Emperor,  with  a  sudden  burst  of  feeling,  "you 
would  rather  be  obliged  to  the  man  whom  you  loved  than  to  a  stranger. 
Oh,  if  you  but  loved  me,  there  would  be  no  question  of '  mine  or  thine ' 
between  us !  It  is  said— I  have  betrayed  myself,  and  1  need  stifle  my 
passion  no  longer,  for  I  love  you,  beautiful  Anna,  I  lovo  you  from  my 
soul,  and,  at  youv  feet,  T  implore  you  to  give  me  that  which  is  above  all 
wealth  or  titles.  Give  me  your  love,  be  mine.  Answer  me,  answer 
me.     Do  you  love  me?" 

"  I  do,"  whispered  she,  without  raising  her  head. 

The  Emperor  threw  his  arm  around  her  waist.  "  Then,"  said  he, 
"from  this  hour  you  give  me  the  right  to  provide  for  you.  Do  you 
not  •?" 

— "^No  sire,  I  can  provide  for  myself." 

"  Then,"  cried  Joseph,  angrily,  '•  you  do  not  love  me." 

"  Yes,  sire,  I  love  you.  You  predicted  that  my  heart  would  find  its 
master.  It  has  bowed  before  you  and  owns  your  sway.  In  the  name 
of  that  love,  I  crave  help  for  Poland.  She  cries  to  heaven  for  vengeance 
and  heaven  has  not  heard  the  cry.  She  is  threatened  by  Russia  and 
Prussia,  and  if  noble  Austria  abandon  her,  she  is  lost!"  Oh,  generous 
Austria,  rescue  my  native  land  from  her  foes  !" 

"Ah!"  exclaimed  the  Emperor,  sarcastically,  "you  call  me  Austria, 
and  your  love  is  bestowed  upon  my  station  and  my  armies  !  It  is  not 
I  whom  you  love,  but  that  Emperor  of  Austria,  in  whose  hand  lies  the 
power  that  may  rescue  Poland." 

"I  love  7/on';  but  my  love  is  grafted  upon  the  hope  I  so  long  have 
cherished  that  in  you  1  recognise  the  Baviour  of  my  country." 

"Indeed!"  cried  the  Emperor,  with  a  sneer. 

The  Countess  did  not  hear  him.  she  continued,  "  until  Iloved  you, 
every  throb  of  my  heart  belonged  to  Poland.  She,  alone,  was  the  object  oC 
my  love  and  of  my  pravers.  But  since  then,  sire,  the  holy  fire  that  burned 
upon  the 'altar  is  quenched,  i  am  faithless  to  my  vestal  vow,  and  I  feel 
within  my  soul  the  tenipesfc  of  an  earthly  passion.  1  have  broken  the 
oath  that  f  made  to  mv  dving  mother,  for  th^re  i"  one  more  dear  to  m*^ 


92  JOSCPIl  THE  3EC0:^D- 

than  Poland  now,  and  for  him  are  the  prayers,  the  hopes,  the  longings, 
and  the  dreams  that  all  belonged  to  Poland!  Oh,  my  lord  and  my 
lover,  reconcile  me  to  my  conscience !  Let  me  believe  that  my  loves 
are  one ;  and  on  the  day  when  your  victorious  eagles  shall  have  driven 
iiway  the  vultures  that  prey  upon  my  fatherland,  I  will  throw  myself  at 
your  feet,  and  live  for  your  love  alone." 

"  Ah,  indeed,"  said  the  Emperor,  with  a  sardonic  laugh,  "  you  •will  go 
to  such  extremity  in  your  patriotism.  You  will  sell  yourself  that  Po- 
land may  be  redeemed  through  your  dishonor.  1  congratulate  you  upon 
your  dexterous  statesmanship.  You  sought  me,  I  perceive,  that  by  the 
magic  of  your  intoxicating  beauty,  you  might  lure  me  to  sacrifice  the 
lives  of  my  people  in  behalf  of  yours.  Your  love  is  a  strategem  of  di- 
plomacy, nothing  more." 

"  Oh,  sire,"  cried   she,  in   tones  of  anguish,  "  you  despise  me  then  ?'* 

— "  Not  at  all ;  I  admire  your  policy,  but  unhappily  it  is  only  par- 
tially successful.  You  had  calculated  that  I  would  not  be  proof  against 
your  beauty,  your  talents,  your  fascinations.  You  are  right ;  I  am  taken 
in  the  snare,  for  I  love  you  madly." 

"  And  do  I  not  return  your  love  from  my  heart?"  asked  she. 

"  Stay,"»cried  Joseph,  "  hear  me  out.  One  half  your  policy  1  say 
■was  successful;  the  other  has  been  at  f\uiU.  As  your  lover  I  will  do 
anything  that  man  can  do  to  make  you  happy  ;  but  my  head  belongs  to- 
my  fatherland,  and  you  cannot  rule  it,  through  my  heart." 

— "^ire,  I  seek  nothing  that  is  inconsistent  with  Austria's  welfare.  I 
ask  help  for  Poland." 

— "  Which  help  might  involve  Austria  in  a  ruinous  war  with  two 
powerful  nations,  and  leave  her  so  exhausted  that  she  would  have  to 
stand  by  and  witness  the  partitibn  of  Poland  without  daring  to  claipa  a 
share  for  herself." 

"The  partition  of  Poland!"  exclaimed  the  Countess,  with  a  cry  of 
horror.  Avenging  God,  wilt  Thou  suffer  sQch  culminations  of  human 
wickedness!  And  you,  sire,  could  you  share  in  such  a  crime?  But, 
no  !  no  !  no  ! — see  how  misfortune  has  maddened  me,  when  I  doubt  the 
honor  of  the  noble  Emperor  of  Austria.  Never  would  the  lofty  and 
generous  Joseph  stoop  to  such  infamy  as  this!" 

— "  If  Poland  must  succumb,  I  will  act  as  becomes  my  station  and 
responsibilities  as  the  sovereign  of  a  great  empire,  and  I  will  do  that 
which  the  wisdom  and  prudence  of  my  mother  shall  dictate  to  her  son. 
But  Anna,  dear  Anna,"  continued  he,  passionately,  "  why  should  the 
sweet  confession  of  our  love  be  lost  in  the  turbid  roar  of  these  political 
waters'?  Tell  me  that  you  love  me  as  a  woman  ought  to  love,  having 
no  God,  no  faith,  no  country,  butcher  lover;  losing  her  identity  and  liv- 
ing for  his  happiness  alone  !" 

"I  love  you,  I  love  you,"  murnaured  she,  with  indescribable  tender- 
ness, and  clasping  her  hands,  she  fell  upon  her  knees,  and  raised  her  eyes 
to  him  with  a  look  that  made  him  long  to  fold  her  to  his  heart,  and 
yield  up  his  empire,  had  she  jpquested  it  at  his  hands,     '*  Help  for  Po 


EMFEBOR  OF  AUSTRIA.  93 

land  !"  prayed  she  again,  "  help  for  Poland  and  I  am  yours  forever !" 

Joseph  grew  angry  w'itli  himself  and  with  her.  "Love  does  not 
ch.'.trei-,'  said  he,  rudely.  "  When  a  woman  loves,  she  mu>rt  recognise 
her  master,  and  bow  before  his  Svill  ;  otherwise  there  is  uo  love.  For 
the  last  lime  I  ask,  do  you  love  uiel" 

"  More  than  life  or  honor." 

"Then  be  a  woman,  and  yield  yourself  to  me.  Away  with  national- 
ity, it  is  an  abstraci  ion.  What  are  Poland  and  the  world  to  yon  ?— 
Here  upon  tny  heart  are  your  country  and  your  altars!  Come,  without 
condition  and  without  reserve  !  1  cannot  promise  to  free  Poland,  but  by 
the  bright  heaven  above  us,  I  swear  to  make  you  happy  !" 

She  shook  her  head  mournfully  and  rose  from  her  knees.  "  Make  me 
happy  !"  echoed  she.  "Forme  there  can  bo  no  happiness  while  Po- 
Jand  sorrows." 

"  Say  that  again,"  thundered  the  Emperor,  "  and  we  part  forever." 

"I  8»y  it  again,"  said  she,  with  proud  tranquility,  but  prile  as  death. 

"And  yet  if  I  am  not  ready  to  sacrifice  my  own  people  for  yours, 
you  will  not  believe  in  my  love!  You  are  unwilling  to  give  up  an  idle 
dream  of  Polish  freedom,  and  you  ask  of  me,  a  man  and  an  Emperor, 
that  1  shall  bring  to  you  the  offering  of  my  own  honor  and  of  my  peo- 
ple's happiness." 

She  -said  nothing. 

"  It  is  enough,"  cried  Joseph,  his  eyes  flashing  with  anger.  "  Pride 
agains*  pride  !  We  part ;  for  the  first  thing  I  require  of  a  woman  who 
loves  me,  is  submission.  It  grieves  me  bitterly  to  find  you  so  unwoman- 
ly. I  would  have  prized  your  love  above  every  earthly  blessing,  had 
you  given  it  freely.  Conditionally,  I  will  not  accept  it ;  above  ail  when 
its  Conditions  relate  to  the  government  of  my  empire.  No  woman  .shall 
ever  have  a  voice  in  my  affairs  of  State.  If  for  that  reason  she  reject 
me,  I  must  submit,  although,  as  at  this  moment,  my  heart  bleeds  at  her 
rejection." 

"  And  mine  !  My  heart!"  exclaimed  the  Countess,  raising  her  tearful 
eyes  to  his. 

"  Pride  will  cure  you,"  replied  he,  with  a  bitter  smile.  "  Go  back  to 
the  fatherland  that  you  love  so  well,  and  I  shall  imitate  you,  and  turn 
to  mine  for  comfort.  There  is  many  a  mourning  heart  in  Austria  less 
haughty  than  yours,  to  which,  perchance,  1  may  be  able  to  bring  joy  or 
consolation.  God  grant  me  some  compensation  in  life  for  the  supreme 
misery  of  this  hour !  Farewell  Countess  Wielopolska.  To-night  1  leave 
Vienna." 

He  crossed  the  room,  while  she  looked  afler  him  as  though  her  lips 
■were  parting  to  utter  a  cry.  At  the  door  he  turned  once  more  to  say 
farewell.  Still  she  spoke  not  a  word,  but  looked  as  though,  like  Niobe, 
she  were  stiffening  into  marble. 

The  Emperor  opened  the  door  and  passed  into  the  ante-room.  As 
iie  disappeared,  she  uttered  a  low  cry,  and  clasped  both  hor  hands  over 
her  heart.  \ 


94  JOSEPH  THE  SECOND. 

"  My  God,  my  God,  I  love  him !"  sobbed  she,  and  reeling  backward, 
she  fell  fainting  to  tlje  floor. 


CHAP'TER  XXVI. 


FAMINE.  IN    BOHEMIA. 


The  cry  of  distress  from  Bohemia  reached  Vienna,  and  came  to  the 
knowledge  of  the  Emperor.  Joseph  hastened  to  bring  succor  and  com- 
fort to  his  unhappy  subjects. 

Their  need  was  great.  Two  successive  years  of  short  harvest  had 
spread  want  and  tribulation  throughout  all  Germany,  especially  in  Bo- 
hemia and  Mpravia,  where  a  terrible  innundaiion,  added  to  the  failure 
of  the  crops,  had  destroyed  the  fruits  and  vegetables  of  every  field  and 
every  little  garden.  ,; 

The  country  was  one  vast  desert.  From  every  cottage  went  forth 
the  wail  of  hunger.  The  stalls  were  empty  of  cattle,  the  barns  of  corn  ; 
the  plows  lay  idle  on  the  ground,  for  there  was  neither  grain  to  sow,  nor 
oxen  to  drive;  there  were  neither  men  nor  women  to  till  the  spil,  for 
there  was  no  money  to  pay  nor  food  to  sustain  them.  Each  man  >yas 
alone  in  his  want,  and  each  sufferer  in  the  egotism  of  a  misery  that  sti- 
fled all  humanity,  complained  that  no  one  fed  him,  when  all  were  faint- 
ing for  lack  of  food. 

Bread  !  Bread!  The  dreadful  cry  arose  from  hundreds  of  emaciated 
being-;,  old  and  youn^,  who  in  the  crowded  cities  lay  d^^  ing  in  the  streets, 
their  wasted  hands  raised  in  vain  supplication  to  the  passers  by  ! 

Bread  !  Bread  !  moaned  the  peasant  in  his  hut,  and  the  villager  at  the 
wayside,  as  with  glaring  eyes  they  stared  at  the  traveller,  who  more 
fortunate  than  they,  was  leaving  Bohemia  for  happier  climes,  and  surely 
iii  gratitude  for  his  own  rescue,  would  throw  a  crust  to  the  starving  fel- 
lows  whom  he  left  behind  ! 

There  "they  lay,  watching  for  the  elegant  carriages,  the  horsemen,  the 
wagons  that  were  accustomed  to  pass  them  on  their  road  to  Prague. 
But  now  the  high-road  was  empty,  for  the  fauiine  had  extended  to 
Prague,  and  no  one  cared  to  go  thither. 

And  yet  on  either  side  of  the  road  were  hundreds  of  starving  wretches, 
who  long  ago  had  left  their  miserable  huts  and  now  lay  in  heaps  upon 
the  ground,  the  heavens  their  only  shelter,  the  wide  world  their  home. 
These  were  the  inhabitants  of  the  mountains,  who  had  come  down  to 
the  neighboring  villages  for  help,  but  had  been  rudely  driven  away  by 
those  whose  sufferings^iiad  maddened  thera  and  turned  their  hearts  to 
stone. 


EMl'ERliR  OF  AUSTKiA 


95^- 


They  had  lain  there  for  a  day,  and  yet  not  one  trace  of  .1  traveller  liacl 
they  soen.  The  mid-day  sun  had  blistered  iheir  foreheads  but  they  had 
not  felt  it,  for  the  liery  p*angs  of  hunger  were  keener  than  the  sun  ;  and 
now  the  evening  air  that  tiinned  their  burning  brows  brought  no  relief, 
tor  fiercer  and  mori;  cruel  grow  the  gnawings  of  the  fiend  within. 

"There  is  no  help  on  erirth,"  cried  an  old  woman,  the  grandmother  of 
a  whole  generation  of  stalwart  mountaineers,  who  lay  stricken  around 
her.  There  were  her  son  and  his  wife,  once  such  a  stately  pair,  now  rc- 
uuced  to  two  pale  spectres;  there  were  troops  of  grandchildren,  once 
round-cheeked  as  the  carved  angels  on  the  alter  of  the  viilage-chapei, 
now  hollow-eyed  and  skinny,  with  their  blanched  faces  upturned  implo- 
ringly to  the  parents  who  were  scarcely  conscious  of  their  presence  there. 
Hunger  had  extinguished  youth,  strength,  beauty,  and  had  almost  up- 
rooted love.  Not  only  had  it  destroyed  their  bodies,  but  it  had  even 
corrupted  their  souls. 

"There  is  no  help  on  earth,"  cried  the  old  woman  again  with  such  en- 
ergy of  despair  that  her  voice  found  its  way  to  the  dull  ear  of  every 
starving  wretch  around.  And  now  from  every  hollow  voice  came  back 
the  mournful  chorus,  "There  is  no  help  on  earth  !" 

"There  is  no  help  in  heaven  !"  shrieked  an  old  man,  who  widi  his  fa- 
mily was  lying  in  a  hollow,  whence  their  moans  were  heard  as  though 
coming  from  the  grave.  "There  is  no  God  in  heaven,  else  he  would^ 
hear  our  cries  !     There  is  no  God  !" 

"There  is  no  God  !"  echoed  the  maddened  wretches,  and  many  a  was- 
ted arm  was  raised  in  defiance  to  heaven. 

"Still,  still,  my  friends  !"  cried  the  grandmother,  "let  us  not  sin  be- 
cause we  starve.  We  can  but  die  and  the  Lord  will  receive  us."  And 
as  she  spoke  she  raised  her  trembling  body  and  stretched  forth  her  poor 
withered  arms  as  though  she  would  have  calmed  the  tempest  she  had 
raised. 

"Still,  father  Martin !"  cried  she,  in  a  voice  of  authority.  "There  is 
a  God  above,  but  He  has  turned  away  His  face  because" of  our  sin;?^ 
Let  us  pray  to  see  the  light  of  His  countenance.  Come  friends,  let  us 
gather  up  all  our  strength  and  pray."  She  rose  and  knelt,  while  inspir- 
ed by  her  example,  the" multitude  knelt  also.  Old  and  young,  men  and 
women,  all  with  one  supreme  effort  lifted  up  their  hands  to  heaven. 

But  the  prayer  was  over,  the  petitioners  fell  prostrate  to  the  earth, 
and  still  no  sign  of  help  from  above!  ^ 

"You  see,  mother  Elizabeth,"  groaned  father  Martin,  "your  prayers 
are  all  vain.     Heaven  is  empty,  and  we  must  die." 

"  We  must  die,  we  must  die!"  howled  the  famishing  multitude,  and 
exhausted  by  the  might  of  their  own  despair,  they  fell  to  rise  no  more. 
A  long,  fearful  silence  ensued.  Here  and  there  a  faint  moan  struggled 
for  utterance,  and  a  defiant  arm  was  raised  as  though  to  threaten  Om- 
nipotence ;  then  the  poor,  puny  creatures  whom  hunger  had  bereft  of 
reason,  shivered,  dropped  their  hand ^j_  and  again  lay  still. 

Suddnnir  fho  rilpnce  wns  broken  jS^Hhe  fnilit  sound  of  nnrri.'>g''-whw.lf». 


96  JOSEPH  TH£  i^EOOND. 

Nearer  and  more  near  it  came,  until  the  horses'  heads  were  to  be  seen 
through  tbe  clouds  of  dust  that  enveloped  the  vehicle.  The  poor  star- 
ving.puasants  heard,  but  scarcely  heeded  it.  They  stared  in  mute  des- 
pair, or  murmured,  "  It  is  too  hite!" 

Still  the  carriage  rolled  on,  the  dust  grevF  thicker,  and  now  it  hid  frora 
the  travellers'  view  the  miserable  wretches  that  lay  dying  around  them. 
But  heaven  be  praised,  they  stop  ! 

There  were  two  carriages  followed  by  outsiders.  The  first  carriage 
contained  three  persons  all  clad  in  dark,  plain,  civilian's  clothes;  but  it 
was  easy  to  recognise  in  the  youngest  of  the  three,  the  most  important 
personage  of  all.  It  was  he  who  had  given  the  order  to  halt,  and  now 
without  waiting  for  assistance,  he  leaped  from  the  carriage  and  walked 
at  once  to  the -foremost  group  of  suilerers.  He  bent  down  to  the  old 
woman,  who,  turning  her  fever-stricken  face  to  him,  moaned  feebly. 

"  What  is  the  matter  f  said  the  traveller  in  a  gentle  and  sympathi- 
sing tone.     "  How  can  I  help  you  f 

The  old  mother  made  a  violent  effort  and  spoke.  "  Hunger,"  said 
she,  "  I  burn — burn — hunger." 

"  Hunger !  hunger !"  echoed  the  people  around,  shaking  off  their 
lethargy,  and  awakening  once  more  to  hope. 

"  Uh,  my  God  !  This  woman  will  die  before  we  can  succor  her,"  ex- 
claimed the  young  man  sorrowfully.  "  Hasten,  Lacy,  and  bring  me 
some,  wine." 

"  We  have  none,"  replied  Lacy,  "  your  Majesty  gave  away  your  last 
bottle  in  the  village  behind." 

"  But  she  will  die !"  exclaimed  the  Emperor,  as  bending  over  the  poor 
old  woman,  he  took  her  skinny  hand  in  his. 

"  We  must  die,"  murmured  she,  while  her  parched  tongue  protruded 
from  her  mouth. 

"  Sire,  you  are  in  danger,"  whispered  Lacy. 

"  Rise,  your  Majesty,"  interrupted  Rosenburg, "  these  unhappy  people 
have  the  typhus  that  accompanies  starvation,  and  it  is  contageous." 

"  Contagious  for  those  who  hunger,  but  not  for  us,"  replied  Joseph. 
"  Oh,  my  friends,"  continued  he,  "  see  here  are  three  generations  all  dy- 
ing  for  want  of  food.  Gracious  heaven  !  They  have  lost  all  resem- 
blance to  humanity.  Hunger  has  likened  them  to  animals.  Oh,  it  is 
dreadful  to  think  that  a  crust  of  bread  or  a  sip  of  wine  might  awaken 
these  suffering  creatures  to  reason  :  but  flour  and  grain.can  be  of  no  aivail 
here!" 

"  They  may  avail  elsewhere,  sire,"  said  Rosenberg,  "  and  if  we  can  do 
nothing  for  these,  let  us  go  on  and  help  others." 

•>     "  It  is  fearful,"  said  the  Emperor,  "  but  I  will  not  leave  until  I  have 
made  an  effort  to  save  them." 

He  signed  to  one  of  his  outriders,  and  taking  out  a  leaf  of  his  pocket- 
book,  wrote  something  upon  it.  "  Gallop  for  your  life  to  Prague,"  said 
he,  "and  give  this  paper  to  the  lop^l,  steward  of  the  palace.  He  must  at 
onoe  8end  a  wagon  hither,  laden  wiih  food  and  wine,  and  that  he  may  be 


%  EMrEllOR  OP  AUSTRIA  97 

able  to  do  it  withopt  delay,  telf  him  to  take  the  stores  from  the  palace 
and  all  the  viands  that  are  preparing  in  the  icitcheu  for  my  reception. — 
This  paper  will  be  your  warrant.  As  soon  as  you  shall  have  delivered 
your  message,  fill  a  portmanteau  with  old  Hungarian  wine  and  gallop 
back  to  me.  Be  here  within  two  hours,  if  you  kill  two  of  my  best 
horses  to  compass  the  distance." 

The  outrider  took  the  paper,  and  setting  spurs  to  his  horse,  he  gallop- 
ed off  to  Prague. 

"  And  now,  my  friends,"  continued  the  Emperor,  "  although  we  have 
no  wine,  we  have  bread  and  meat.  Not  much,  it  is  true,  but  I  think  ib 
will  save  these  people  fioin  death." 

The  Enipct^r  hastened  in  the  direction  of  his  carriage.  "Quick, 
Giinther,  hand  -tne  the  camp-chest." 

"  But  your  Majesty  has  not  eaten  a  morsrl  to-day,"  urged  Rosenberg, 
following  him.  "I  cannot  consent  to  see  the  food  prepared  for  you,  be- 
stowed upon  any  .one.  You  will  lose  your  health  if  you  fast  for  such  a 
length  of  time.  You  owe  it  to  your  mother,  the'»Empress,  and  toyour 
subjects,  not  to  deprive  yourself  of  food." 

"  Do  you  think  1  could  eat  in  presence  of  such  hunger!"  cried  the 
Emperor,  impatiently.  "  Come,  Giinther,  come  all  of  you,  and  help 
me.  Here  is  a  large  fowl.  Cut  it  into  little  morsels,  and — oh,  what  a 
discovery  ! — ajar  of  beef  jelly.  While  you  carve  the  fowl  1  will  die- 
tribute  the  jelly.  Come,  Lacy  and  Rosenberg,  take  each  a  portion  of 
this  chicken,  and  cut  it  up." 

"  Good  heavtnis.  Lacy,  come  to  my  relief,"  cried  Rosenberg.  "  Th« 
Emperor  is  alxnit  to  give  away  his  last  morsel.  We  bc^h  have  had 
breakfast,  but.  he  has  not  tasted  food  for  a  day." 

"  He  is  right,  our  noble  Emperor,"  replied  Lacy.  "  In  the  presence 
of  such  sullering,  he  is  right  to  forget  himself;  if  he  could  liot  do  Bo,  he 
would  not  be  worthy  to  be  a  sovereign." 

The  Emperor  heard  none  of  this,  he  was  already  wnth  the  sufTerers, 
distributing  his  food.  WMth  an  earnest  look  and  a  firm  and  rapid  hand, 
he  put  a  teaspoonful  of  jelly  between  the  parched,  half  opened  lips  of 
the  grand-mother,  whiltj  Giinther,  imitating  him,  did  the  same  for  her 
son. 

For  a  moment  the  Emperor  looked  to  see  the  effect  of  his  remedy.' 
He  saw  an  expressipn  of  joy  flit  over  the  features  of  the  poor  old  wo- 
man, and  then  her  lips  moved,  and  she  swallowed  the  jelly, 

"See,  gee!"  cried  the  Emperor,  overjoyed,  "she  takes  it.  Oh,  Giin- 
ther, this  will  save  them  until  help  comes  from  Prague  !  But  there  are 
Ro  many  of  them.  Do  you  think  we  have  a  hundred  teaspoons  of  jelly 
in  the  jar  1" 

And  he  looked  anxiously  at  Giinther, 

"It  is  a  large  jar,  your  Majesty,"  said  Giinther,  "  and  1  think  it  will 
hold  out." 

"  Be  sparing  of  it  at  any  rate,  and  do  not  heap  up  your  spoons.  And 
now,  not  another  word.     We  must  go  to  work/' 


98  JOSEPH  THE  SECOND. 

He  stooped  down  and  spoke  no  more,  but  his  face  was  lib  up  by  the 
fire  of  the  christian  charity  that  was  coDsuming  his  noble'  heart.  He 
looked  as  must  have  looked  his  ancestor  Rudolph  of  Hapsburg,  who  once 
meeting  a  foot-sore  priest  bearing  the  viaticum  to  a  dying  parishioner, 
gave  up  his  horse  to  the  servant  of  God,  and  continued  his  way  on  foot. 

While  the  Emperor  flew  from  group  to  group,  resuscitating  his  ex- 
piring subjects,  Lacy  and  Rosenberg  were  carefully  cutting  up  the  fowl 
that  had  been  roasted  for  his  dinner.  A  deep  silence  reigned  around, 
all  nature  seemed  to  be  at  peace,  and  oyer  the  reclining  sutferers  the 
evening  sun  threw  long  rays  of  rosy  light,  that  illumined  their  pallid 
faces  with  the  hue  of  hope  and  returning  life.  ;V 

Gradually  there  was  motion  in  the  scene.  Here  an4'  there  a  head 
arose  from  the  ground,  then  a  body,  and  presently  a  gleam  of  intelli- 
gence shot  athwart  those  glaring,  blood-shot  eyes.  The  Emperor 
watched  them  with  a  happy  smile.  His  errand  of  mercy  was  at  an  end. 
The  jar  was  empty,  but  every  one  had  received  a  share,  and  all  were 
reviving. 

"  Now  give  them  a  morsel  of  chicken,"  said  Joseph.  "  A  small  piece 
will  suffice,  for  after  their  long  fast  they  can  only  eat  sparingly  of  food  ; 
and  they  will  have  had  enough  until  help  comes  to  us  from  Prague." 

"  Then,"  said  Rosenberg,  affectionately,  "  I  hope  that  your  Majesty, 
too,  will  take  something.  There  will  certainly  be  enough  left  for  you 
to  eat  your  dinner  without  remorse." 

"  Never  mind  me,  Rosenberg,"  laughed  the  Emperor.  *'  1  shall  not 
die  of  starvation,  I  promise  you.  When  the  creature  cries  out  for 
nourishment,  I  shall  give  it;  but  I  think  that  my  Maker  will  not  love* 
me  the  less  for  having,  voluntarily,  felt  the  pangs  of  hunger  for  once  in 
my  life.  I  can  never  forget  this  day  in  Bohemia;  it  has  confirmed  my 
resolution  to  reign  for  the  good  of  my  people  alone,  and  as  God  hears 
me,  they  shall  -be  happy  when  I  govern  them. — But  your  chicken  is 
ready.  To  satisfy  you,  I  will  go  and  beg  my  supper  in  yonder  village, 
and,  as  ^.here  are  enough  of  you  to  attend  to  these  poor  sufferers,  I  will 
take  Lacy  to  keep  me  company.     Come  Lacy." 

He  took  the  arm  of  the  Fieldmarshal,  and  they  both  presently  disap- 
peared behind  the  trees. 


CHAPTER  XXVIL 

THE    BLACK    BROTH. 


In  a  quarter  of  au  hour  they  had  reached  the  village.  The  same  ab- 
sence of  all  life  struck  painfully  upon  the  Emperor's  heart  as  they 
walked  along  the  deserted  streets,  and  heard  nothing  save  the  echo  of 


RMPKROK  OF  AUSTRIA.  yj) 

their  own  footsteps.  Not  the  Iqwing  of  a  cow  nor  the  bleating  of  u 
sheep,  not  one  Jamiliar  rural  sound  broke  the  mournful  stilhiess  that 
brooded  over  the  air.  Occasionally  a  ghastly  figure,  in  tattered  gar- 
ments, from  whose  vacant  eyes  the  light  of  reason  seemed  to  have  lied, 
■was  seen  crouching  at  the  door  of  a  hut,  wherein  his  wife  and  children 
■were  starving.  This  was  the  only  token  of  life  that  greeted  the  eyes  of 
the  grave  and  silent  pair. 

"  Lacy,"  at  last  sighed  the  Emperor,  "  bow  fearful  is  this  deadly  silence. 
One  might  fancy  that  he  walked  in  Pompeii,  and  Pompeii,  alas,  is  not 
more  lonely.  To  think  that  I,  an  Emperor,  must  look  on  and  give  no 
help!" 

"  Oh,  yes,  sire,  you  can  give  help,"  said  Lacy,  encouragingly.  There 
must  bo  vsome  means  by  which  this  fearful  famine  can  be  arrested," 

— "  I  have  ordered  cqrn  from  Hungary,  where  the  harvest  has  been 
abundant.  ,  To  encourage  the  importation  of  grain  in  Bohemia,  I  have 
promised,  besides  good  prices,  a  premium  of  one  hundred  guilders  for 
each  well  laden,  four-horse  wagon  of  grain  that  arrives  before  the  expi- 
ration of  three  weeks." 

— "  But  the  people  will  be  exhausted  before  three  weeks." 

— "  i  have  also  ordered  the  commJssary  store-houses  to  be  opened  in 
Prague,  and  the  grain  to  be  distributed." 

"  This  will  last  but  lor  a  few  days,"  returned  Lacy,  shaking  his  head. 

"  Then  what  can  I  do  ?"'^exclaimed  the  Emperor,  sorrowfully. 

— "The  famine  is  so  great  that  it  can  scarcely  have  arisen  from  natural 
causes.  Where  scarcity  is,  there  will  always  be  found  the  extortioner, 
who  profits  by  it.  Thosie  who  have  grain,  are  withholding  it  for  higher 
prices." 

— "  Woe  to  them,  if  I  light  upon  their  stores  !"  exclaimed  Joseph,  in- 
dignantly. "  Woe  to  those  who  traffic  in  the  fruits  of  the  earth,  which 
God  has  bestowed  for  the  use  of  all  men." 

— "  Your  Majesty  will  not  find  them.  They  will  be  carefully  hidden 
away  from  your  sight." 

"  I  will  seek  until  I  find,"  replied  the  Erriperor.  "  But  look  there, 
Lacy,  ■what  a  stately  dwefling  rears  its  proud  head  beyond  that  grove 
of  trees.     Is  it  the  setting  sun  that  gilds  the  windows  just  now?" 

"No,  your  Majesty,  the  light  is  from  within.  I  suppose  it  is  the 
castle  of  the  nobleman,  who  owns  the  village." 

They  walked  a  few  paces  further,  when  the  Emperor  spoke  a^ain. 
"See,  Lacy,  here  is  a  hut,  from  whose  chimney  I  see  smoke.  Perhaps 
I  shall  find  something  to  eat  -ft'ithin." 

He  opened  the  door  of  the  cottage,  and  there,  on  the  floor,  in  a  heap, 
lay  a  woman  with  four  children.  Their  hollow  eyes  were  fixed  without 
the  slightest  interest  upon  the  strangers,  tor  they  were  in  the  last  stage 
of  hunger-typhus,  and  saw  nothing. 

Lacy  hurried  the  Emperor  away,  saying,  "  Nothing  can  help  these  ex- 
cept death.     I  know  this  terrible  fever,    "j  saw  it  in  Moravia  in  '62." 

Thoy  stepped  from  the  cottage  to  the  kitchen.     A  fire  ■was  burning 


160  JOSEPH  THE  SECOND 

in  the  clilmney,  and  before  it  stood  a  man  who  was  stirrhig  the  contents 
of  a  pot."  I  . 

"  God  be  praised  !"  exclaimed  the  Emperor,  "here  is  food."        ' 

The  man  turned  and  showed  a  sunken,  famished  countenance. 

"  Do  you  want  dinner?"  said  he  roughly.  "I  have  a  mess  in  my 
pot  that  an  Emperor  might  covet." 

"  He  does  covet  it,  my  friend,"  said  the  Emperor,  laughing.  "  What 
have  you  there  ?" 

The  man  threw  sinister  glances  at  the  well-dressed  strangers,  who  jarred 
the  funereal  air  of  his  cottage  with  untimely  mirth. 

"  Did  you  come  here  to  mock  me  ?"  said  he.  "  Fine  folks,  like  you, 
are  after  no  good  in  a  poor  man's  cottage.  If  you  come  here  to  pasture 
upon  our  misery,  go  into  the  house,  and  there  you  will  see  a  sight  that 
will  rejoice  the  rich  man's  heart. 

"  No;  my  friend,"  replied  the  Emperor,  soothingly,  "we  come  to  ask 
for  a  share  of  your  supper."  ^ 

The  man  broke  out  into  a  sardonic  laugh.  "  My  supper !"  cried  he. 
*' Come,  then,  and  see  it.     It  is  earth  and  water  !" 

•'  Earth  and  water !"  cried  the  horror-stricken  Joseph. 

The  peasant  nodded.  "Yes,"  said  he,  "the  earth  gives  growth  to 
the  corn,  and  as  1  have  got  no  corn,  I  am  trying  to  see  what  it  will  do 
for  me  !  We  have  already  tasted  grass.  It  is  so  green  and  fresh,  and 
i?8cms  so  sweet  to  our  cattle,  that  we  tried  to  eat  t\ie'^weei  green  grass.^^ 
And  he  smiled,  but  it  was  the  smile  of  a  demon. 

"  Oh,  my  God!"  cried  the  Emperor. 

'^But  it  seems,"  continued  the  man,  as  though  speaking  to  himself, 
"  that  God  loves  cattle  better  than  he  does  men,  lor  the  grass  which 
strengthens  them,  made  us  so  sick,  so  sick,  that  it  would  have  been  a 
mercy  if  we  had  all  died.  It  seems  that  we  cannot  die,  however,  so 
now  I  am  going  to  eat  the  glorious  earth.  Hurrah!  My  supper  is 
ready. 

He  swung  the  kettle  upon  the  table  and  poured  the  black  mass  into  a 
platter. 

"  Now,"  said  he,  with  a  fiendish  grin,  "  now  will  tho  great  folks  like 
to  sup  with  me?" 

"Yes,"  said  the  Emperor,  gravely;  "I  will  taste  of  your  supper." 

He  stepped  to  the  table,  and  took  the  spoon  which  the  bewildered 
peasant  held  out  to  him.  Pale  with  excitement,  the  Emperor  put  the 
apoon  to  his  mouth,  and  tasted.  Then  he  reached  it  to  Lacy. 
.  "  Taste  it.  Lacy,"  said  he.  "  Oh,  t©  think  that  these  are  men  who  suf- 
fer the  pangs  of  starvation!"  And  completely  overcome  by  his  sorrow- 
ing sympathy,  the  Emperor's  eyes  overflowed  with  tears. 

The  peasant  saw  them  and  said,  "  y*»s,  my  lord,  we  are  men,  but  God 
has  forsaken  us.  He  has  been  more  merciful  to  the  cattle,  for  they  have 
all  died." 

"  But  how  came  this  fearfulfamine  among  you  ?"  asked  Lacy.  "  Did 
vou  !ii-f  rjnnt  cot  ''"  '  ' 


KiihKuoh    >i'  Ai;siKik  lyi 

"'How  could  we  plaiiL  corn  wheh  wo  had  uone  .'  J  or  Lwo  ) tsars  0*1 
crops  hai|»  failed,  aud  hunger  has  eat'jn  our  vitals  until  there  is  not  a 
man  in  the  village  who  has  the  strength  to  raise  a  fagi^t.'" 

''  But  I  saw  a  castle  as  we  came  thither,"  said  Lacy. 

'•Yes,~vou  saw  the  castle  of  the  Barofe  Von  Weifach.  Tli«  whole 
country  belongs  to  him;  but.  we  are 'free  peasants.  As  long  as  we 
made  anything  we  paid  hira  our  tithes.     But  we  have  nothing  now." 

And  with  a  groan  he  sank  dowD  upon  the  wooden  settle  that  stood 
behind  him. 

"  The  BaroD  does  nothing  for  you  then  ?" 
.   "  Why  should  he  ?"  said  the  man,  with  a  bitter  laugh.     '•  We  pay  do 
more  tiihes,  and  we  are  of  no  use  to  him.     He  prays  every  day  for  the 
famine  to  last,  and  God  hears  his  prayers,  for  God   forsakes  the   poor 
and  loves  the  rich." 

"  But  how  does  he  profit  by  the  famine  ?"  asked  Lacy. 

"  We  have  been  profitable  laborers  to  him,  my  lord.  For  several 
years  past  his  corn-fields  have  been  weighed  down  with  golden  tassels 
that  made  the  heart  leap  with  joy  at  sight  of  their  beauty.  He  had  so 
much  that  his  barns  would  not  hpld  it,  and  he  had  to  put  up  other  great 
barns,  thatched  with  straw  to  shelter  it.  This  year,  it  is  true,  that  be 
has  reaped  nothing,  but  what  of  that.  His  barna  are  still  full  to  over- 
flowing." 

'•  But  how  comes  there  such  famine,  when  his  barns  are  full  of  corn  V 
asked  the  Emperor,  who  was  listening  with  intense  interest. 

"That  is  a  question  which  does  little  honor  to  your  head,  sire,"  said 
the  peasant,  with  a  grating  laugh.  "The  famine  is  so  terrible  in  Bohe- 
mia precisely  because  the  extortioners  hold  back  their  grain  and  will  not 
sell  it." 

"  But  there  is  a  law  agains^-  the  hoarding  of  grain." 

"  Yes,  there  are  laws  made  so  that  the  poor  may  be  punished  by  them 
and  the  rich  protected,"  said  the  peasant,  with  a  sinister  look.  "  Oh, 
yes,  there  are  laws!  The  rich  only  have  to  say  that  they  have  no  corn, 
and  there  the  law  ends." 

"  And  you  think  that  the  Baron  Von  Weifach  has  grain?" 

The   peasant   nodded.     "I  know  it,"  said  he,  "and  when  the  timp 
comes,  he  will  put  it  in  the  market." 
/'What  timer 

"When  the  need  of  the  people  will  be  so  great  that  they  will  part 
with  their  last  acre  of  land  or  last  handful  of  gold  for  a  few  bushels  of 
grain.  Several  years  ago,  when  corn  was  cheap,  iie  sent  his  corn  abroa''^ 
to  a  country  where  the  harvest  had  been  short ;  but  he  will  not  do  so 
this  year,  lor  the  rich  men  have  speculated  so  well  that  corn  is  dearer 
here  than  it  is  over  the  frontiers.'^-  Bui  I  have  enough  of  your  ques- 
tions.    Let  me  alone  and  go  about  your  business." 

"  Can  you  buy  food  with  money  ?"  asked  the  Emperor,  kindly.     1 

*  Gross  Hoffenger.    Lif^^  nnd  reign  of  Joseph  II,  Vol.  1,  page  18g.    Carl  Ramsborlj.  Life  and 
times  of  Joseph  II.,  page  9i>. 


i  O'J  JUJiEPU  THE  SECOND, 

'*  Yea,  indeed,  sire,"  said  the  peasant,  while  a  ray  of  hope  entered 
the  dark  prison  of  his  desponding  heart.  "  If  I  had  money,  the  house- 
keeper of  the  Baron  would  sell  me  bread,  wheat,  meat — oh,  she  would 
sell  me  anything  if  I  had  money  to  pay  for  it." 

"Take  this,  then,"  said  the  Emperor,  laying  several  gold  pieces  on 
the  tabl".     "  I  hope  to  bring  you  more  permanent  relief,  later.'*' 

The  peasant,  with  a  cry,  threw  himself  upon  the  gold.'  He  paid  no 
attention  whatever  to  the  donor.  Shouting  for  joy  at  the  f3ame  time 
that  he  was  shedding  tears  in  profusion,  he  darted,  with  his  prize,  to  his 
starving  wife  an'^  children  to  bid  them  live  until  he  brought  them  food. 

Without,  stood  the  Emperor  and  Lacy.  "  Oh,  God  !"  murmured  he 
to  himself,  '•  and  I  have  thought  myself  a  most  unhappy  man  !  Whafi 
is  the  grief  of  the  heart  to  such  bodily  torture  as  this !  Come,  Lacy, 
come.  The  day  of  reckoning  is  Here,  and,  "by  the  eternal  God,  I  will 
punish  the  guilty !" 

"  What  means  your  Majesty  ?"  asked  Lacy,  as  the  Emperor  instead 
of  returning  to  the  village,  strode  forward  towards  the  path  that  led  to 
the  castle. 

"  I  mean  to  gO  at  orice  to  yonder  castle,"  cried  he,  with  a  threatening 
jesture,  "and  my  hand  shall  fall  heavily  upon  the  extortioner  who  with- 
holds  his  jgrain  from  the  people." 

"  But,  your  Majesty,"  urged  Lacy,  "  the  word  of  one  discontented  peas- 
ant is  not  enough  to  convict  a  man.  You  must  have  proofs  before  you 
condemn  him." 

— "  True,  Lacy,  you  are  right.     I  must  seek  for  proofs." 

— "Row,  your  Majesty  1" 

— "By  going  to  the  castle.  My  plan  is  already  laid.  As  they  seem 
to  be  feasting  to-day,  I  am  likely  to  find  a  goodly  assemblage  of  rich 
men  together.  I  must  get  an  invitation  to  the  feast,  and  once  there,  if 
the  charge  be  just,  I  promise  to  furnish  the  proofs." 

".Y'our  MajiBsty's  undertaking  is  not  a  safe  one,  I  must,  therefore, 
accompany  you,"  said  Lacy. 

"  No,  Lacy,  I  intend  that  you  shall  meet  me  there.  Return  to  the 
place  where  we  left  Rosenberg  and  the  others,  take  one  of  the  carriages, 
and  drive  with  him  to  the  castle.  When  you  arrive  there,  ask  for  me, 
and  say  that  you  are  now  ready  to  proceed  on^  our  journey.  Giinther 
can  remain  with  the  mountaineers,  and  if  our  provisions  arrive  from 
, Prague,  he  can  dispatch  a  courier  to  let  us  know  it." 
"Shall  we  ask  for  your  Majesty  at  the  castle,  sire?" 

"  Not  by  my  own  name.  Ask  for  Baron  Von  Joseph!,  for  by  that  title 
J  shall  introduce  myself.     Now  farewell,  and  au  revoir.'''' 


tiMfKKOl'.  >)f    AUSTRIA.  \<jy, 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

THB    EXTORTIONKER   OF    QUALITY. 

The  drawing-room  of  the  Freiherr  Von  Welfach  was  splendidly  JIlu-, 
minated.  Hundreds  of  wax  lights  were  multiplied  to  infinity  in  tho 
spacious  mirrors  that  lined  the  walls,  and  separated  from  one  another, 
the  richly  framed  portraits  of  the  Freiherr's  noble  ancestors.  In  the 
hanqiictting-hall,  the  dinner-table  was  resplendent  with  silver  and  gold, 
with  porcelain  and  crystal.  Flowers  sent  out  their  perfume  from  cost- 
liest vases  of  Dresden  china,  and  rich  old  wines  sparkled  in  goblets  of 
glittering  glass.  Around  the  table  sat  a  company  of  richly-dressed  la- 
dies and  gentlemen  of  rank.  They  had  been  four  hours  at  dinner,  and 
the  sense  of  enjoyment,  springing  from  the  satisfaction  of  the  appetite, 
was  not  only  visible  on  the  flushed  faces  of  the  men,  but  betrayed  itself 
upon  the  rosy-tinted  faces  of  the  elegant  women  who  were  their  com- 
panions. 

The  dessert  was. on  the  table.  The  guests  were  indulging  themselves 
in  some  of  those  post-prandial  effusions,  which  are  apt  to  blossom  from 
heads  overheated  by  wine,  and  are  generally  richer  in  words  than  in 
wisdom.  The  host,  with  flattering  preliminaries,  had  proposed  the 
healtn  of  the  ladies,  and  every  goblet  sparkled  to  the  brim.  Just  at 
that  moment  a  servant  entered  the  room  and  whispered  a  few  words  in 
his  ear.  He  turned,  smiling  to  his  guests,  and  apologising  for  tho  inter- 
ruption, said  : 

"  Ladies  and  gentlemen,  I  leave  it  to  you  to  decide  the  question  just 
proposed  to  me.  A  gentleman  has,  at  this  moment,  arrived  at  the  cas- 
tle, requesting  permission  to  remain  until  some  repairs  can  be  made  to 
his  carriage,  which  has  met  with  an  accident  in  the  neighboring  village. 
Shall  we  invite  him  to  join  us  while  he  awaits  the  return  of  his  vehicle?" 

"  Let  us  not  be  rash  in  our  hospitality,"  replied  the  Freiherrin,  from 
the  opposite  side  of  the  table.  "In  the  name  of  the  noble  ladies  assem- 
bled here,  I  crave  to  know  whether  the  stranger  who  comes  so  sans  fagon 
to  our  castle,  is  worthy  of  the  honor  proposed  by  my  husband.  In  oth- 
er words,  is  he  a  personage  of  rank  V 

*'  He  presents  himself  as  the  Baron  Von  Josephi,"  said  the  Freiherr. 

"  One  of  the  oldest  families  in  Hungary !"  exclaimed  one  of  the  guests. 

"Then  he  can  be  admitted,"  responded  the  hostess.  "At  least  if  it 
be  agreeable  to  the  ladies." 

Unanimous  consent  was  given,  and  the  Freiherr  arose  from  his  seat 
to  convey  the  invitation  to  the  stranger. 

"  The  Baron  Von  Josephi !"  said  he,  re-entering  with  the  gentleman. 


•        '  ^ 

k;jq  k.-i-Jing  aim  at  oiiCti  to  lh«.»  .Freiherrin.  She  received  him  with  smii- 
jiig  courtesy,  while  the  rest  of  the  company  directed  thei:-  glances  to- 
\vard3  him,  anxious  to  see  how  he  would  acqiiit  himself  in  his  ralher 
•■mbarrassing  position,  lie  was  perfectly  self-posses.sed,  and  in  every 
gesture  showed  himself  to  be  a  mau  of  the  world. 

\\  ith  oiiiefc  grace  he  took  his  seat  at  the  side  of  the  hostess,  and,  as 
he  looked  around,  with  his  large,  blue  eyes,  he  seemed  rather  to  be  crit- 
oising  than  criticised.  With  a  sharp,  searching  expression,  his  glances 
vent  from  one  of  the  company  to  another,  until  they,  in  their  turn,  felt 
not  only  embarrassed,  but  Iwnassed  and  uneasy. 

"  I  do  not  know  why,"  whispered  one  of  tliem  to  the  lady  who  sat 
next  him,  "but  this  new-comer's  face  seems  very  familiar  to  me.  i 
must  ha%'e  met  him  somewhere  before  this." 

"You  certainly  might  remember  him,"  replied  the  lady,  "if  it  were 
only  for  his  beautiful  eyes.  I  never  saw  such  eyes  in  my  life.  His 
manners,  too,  are  distinguished.  I  judge  that  he  must  have  lived  at 
court." 

"  111  other  words,  you  prefer  a  man  who  fawns  at  court  to  one  who 
reigns  like  a  prince  over  his  own  estates,"  said  the  first  speaker,  warm- 
ly.    '•  I,  for  my  part, " 

"  Hush  !  Let  us  hear  what  he  is  saying,"  interrupted  the  lady. 
"  "  I  am  under  many  obligations  for  your  hospitality,"  said  the  Baron 
Von  Josephi  to  the  hostess.  For  three  days  that  1  have  travelled  in- 
Hohemia,  I  have  met  with  nothing  but  poverty  and  starvation.  Thanks 
1o  my  entrance  in  toyour  splendid  home,  I  see  that  plenty  still  reigns  in 
the  castle  although  it  may  have  departed  from  the  cottage." 

"  Yes,  thank  heaven,  we  know  how  to  take  care  of  our  own  interests 
here,"  said  the  Freiherr,  laughing. 

"  And  yet  you  see  how  things  are  exaggerated,"  replied  the  Baron 
Von  Josephi,  laughing.  "Such  dreadful  tidings  of  the  famine  in  Bohe-^ 
mia  reached  Vienna,  that  the  Emperor  is  actually  on  his  way  to  investi- 
gate the  matter.  1  met  him  not  far  from  Budweis,  and  he  seemed  very 
sad  I  thought." 

"  By  the  L d,  he  has  reason   to   feel   sad,"  exclaimed  one  of  the 

guests.  "He  will  find  nothing  here  for  his  howling  subjects.  He  would 
have  been  wiser  had  he  staid  in  Vienna !" 

"Yes,  poor,  sehtimental  little  Emperor!"  cried  another,  with  a  laugh, 
*'  He  will  find  that  the  stamp  of  his  imperial  foot  is  not  quite  heavy  enough. 
to  conjure  corn  out  of  the  earth,  wherewith  to  feed  his  starving  boors." 

"  I  do  not  see  why  he  should  meddle  with  the  boors  at  all,"  added  a. 
third.  "  Hungry  serfs  are  easy  to  govern,  they  have  no  time  to  cry  for 
their  rights  when  they  are  crying  for  bread." 

"If  the  gentlemen  are  going  to  talk  of  politicfe,"  said  the  hostess,  ris- 
ing from  her  seat,  "  it  is  time  for  ladies  to  retire.  Come  ladies,  our  cav- 
aliers will  join  us  when  coffee  is  served." 

'J'he  gentlemen  rose,  and  not  until  the  Is^t  Jady  had  passed  from  the 
room  did  thev  resume  their  seatg. 


UklhEKUK  «>f   AUSTRIA  lllj 

"And  now,  gentlemen,"  said  Baron  Von  Joseph!,  "  ;is  out  politicul 
gossip  cun  no  longer  annoy  the  ladies,  allow  me  lo  say  lo  you  that  my 
presence  here  is  not  accident^!,  as  I  had  led  you  to  Suppose." 

"And  to  what  are  we  indebted  for  the  honor?"  asked  the  host. 

"I  will  explain,"  said  the  Baron,  iiiclining  his  head.  "You  have  re- 
ceived me  with  the  ho==pitaiity  of  the  olden  lime,  without  incjniiirrj;  my 
rank,  lineage  or  dwelling  place.  Permit  ine  to  introduce  my:>eif".  I 
have  estates  in  Moravia,  and  they  are  contiguous  to  those  of  Count 
Hoditz." 

"  Then,"  replied  Freiherr  Von  Weifach,  "  I  sympathise  with  you,  for 
nowhere  in  Austria  has  the  famine  been  more  severe." 

"  Severe,  indeed  !  The  poor  are  dying  like  flies,  for  they  cannot  learn 
to  live  upon  grass." 

"  Neither  will  ihey  learn  to  livp  upon  it  in  Bohemia,"  said  the  Freiherr, 
laughing.  "  The  people  are  so  unreasonable.  The  noblest  race-horse 
lives  upon  hay  and  grass  ;  why  should  it  not  be  good  enough  for  a  peas- 
ant of  low  degree." 

"  Mere  prejudice  on  the  part  of  the  peasant!"  returned  the  Baron.  "I 
have  always  suspected  him  of  alfectalion.  I  have  no  patience  with 
grumblers." 

"You  are. right  Baron,"  said  his  neighbor,  nodding  and  smiling.  "  The 
people  are  idle  and  wasteful,  and  if  we  were  to  listen  to  their  oomplaini?, 
we  would  soon  be  as  poor  as  they." 

"  And  what  if  a  few  thousand  perish  here  and  there,"  interposed 
another.  "They  would  never  be  missed,  for  they  multiply  like  pota- 
toes." 

"  You  say,  Baron,"  resumed  the  host,  "  that  you  paid  no  attention  to 
the  complaints  of  your  peasantry  ?" 

"I  did  like  Ulyssus,  gentlemen,  I  stopped  my  ears  with  wax,  that  my 
heart  might  not  grow  weak." 

"  A  melodious  syren  song,  to  be  sure,"  hiughed  the  company,  "  a  dirge 
of  bread!  bread!  bread!" 

"Ah,  you  know  the  song,  I  perceive,"  said  the  Baron-  Von  Josephi, 
joining  in  the  laugh. 

— "Yes,  and  we  did  as  you  have  done.  Baron.   vVe  stopped  our  ears." 

"The  consequence  is,"  continued  Josephi,  "thatt  my  granaries  are  full 
to  overflowing.  I  was  on  my  way  to  Prngue  to  dispose  of  it,  but  the 
want,  which  I  have  seen  on  your  estates,  Freiherr,  has  touched  my  heart. 
Nowhere  have  I  seen  anything  to  equal  it.  Hundreds  of  starving  peas- 
ants are  on  the  high-road,  not  a  mile  off." 

"Did  you  honor  us  with  your  presence  to  tell  me  this?"  asked  the 
host,  with  lowering  brow.  "  If  so,  you  might  have  spared  your  trouble, 
for  I  know  it." 

— "Oh,  no,  I  came  to  you  with  the  best  intentions.  I  have  no  pity 
for  the  peasant,  but  some  for  yourself.  The  health  of  his  workmei'  is 
the  nobleman's  wealth.  Now  my  own  people  are  almost  all  dead,  and 
as  I  grieve  to  see.  your  lands  wasted,  I  offer  you  my  corn." 


106  JOSEPH  SEE  SKCUxNU 

"  Which  means  chat  you  wish  me  tci  buy  it,"  said  the  Freiherr,  with 
a  significant  smile. 

— "  Yes,  and  you  can  have  it  at  once.  I  know  that  I  might  do  better 
by  waiting,  but  I  have  a  tender  heart  and  am  willing  to  part  with  it  now. 
1  make  you  the  offer." 

"  How  much  a  strich  f^"*  asked  the  Freiherr. 

— "Twenty  florins.     You  will  find  it  cheap." 

"  Very  cheap  forsooth  !"  cried  the  host,  with  a  loud  laugh,  in  which 
his  guests  all  joined.  "  You  wish  me  to  buy  your  corn  for  my  peasants  ? 
Why,  it  will  be  worth  its  weight  in  gold,  and  they  have  none  wherewith 
to  pay  me," 

'•  You  are  a  humane  landlord  and  a  nobleman,  and  I  take  it  for  grant- 
ed that  you  will  make  it  a  gift  to  your  peasantry." 

*'  Why  did  you  not  do  as  much  yourself?"  asked  the  Freiherr,  scornful- 
ly. "  Have  you  not  ju^^t  now  said  that  your  people  were  dying  while 
your  granaries  are  full?  No,  no!  I  want  no  corn;  but  when  corn  has 
truly  risen  to  twenty  florins,  then  I  shall  open  my  granaries  and  my 
crops  shall  be  for  sale." 

And  the  Freiherr  filled  his  glass  and  drank  a  bumper. 

"  You  should  not  speak  so  loud,"  said  Josephi,  '•  for  you  know  that 
the  Emperor  has  issued  an  edict,  exacting  that  all  those  who  have  grain 
shall  meet  him  in  Prague,  that  the  government  may  buy  their  grain  at 
a  reasonable  price." 

"  Whfiit  fool  would  heed  such  an  edict?"  cried  the  Freiherr.  "The 
Emperor  is  not  the  master  of  our  ^Ejranaries.  In  the  rural  districts  th© 
nobleman  is  Emperor,  and  God  forbid  that  it  should  ever  be  otherwise." 

— "  But  the  Emperor  has  appointed  commissioners,  who  go  from  place 
to  place,  and  inspect  the  crops." 

— ''  Yes.  they  came  hither,  and  they  came  to  all  of  us,  did  they  not 
my  lords?" 

— "Yes,  yes,"  cried  a  chorus  of  merry  noblemen. 

— "But  they  found  nothing — nothing  but  a  few  hundred  florins  that 
glided,  unaccountably,  into  their  hands,  and  caused  them  to  abscond  in  a 
hurry.  This  people  loving  Emperor  deserves  the  eternal  gratitude  of 
his  cornmissioners,  for  although  they  found  no  corn  for  him,  they  found 
^n  abundance  of  gold  for  themselves."      • 

Josephi  colored  violently,  and  his  whole  frame  trembled.  His  hand 
clutched  the  wine-glass  which  he  held,  and  he  seemed  to  breathe  with 
difiiculty. 

No  one  observed  it.  The  company  were  excited  by  wine,  and  their 
senses  were  dim  and  clouded.  But  for  this  sumptuous  dinner,  at  which 
he  had  indulged  himself  too  faf,  the  Freiherr  would  never  have  t»etray- 
ed  the  secret  of  his  overflowing  barns. 

-  Josephi,  meanwhile,  controlled  his  indignation,  and  spoke  again.    "So 
Frftiherr,  you  all  reject  my  proposal." 

"I  do.     God  be  praised  I  have  enough  and  to  spare." 

*  A  tirich,  in  Prague,  was  something  more  than  two  biwhels. 


EMPKRUK  OF  ALSTRIA.  ]{J, 

•'  Then,  gentlemen,"'  continued  the  Baron,  "  I  offer  it  to  any  one  of 
you.  You  are  all  from  this  unhappy  district  and  some  one  of  you  must 
be  in  need  of  grain." 

"  We  are  the  Freiherr's  neighbors  and  have  borrowed  his  wisdom," 
said  one  of  the  company,  "  and  I  can  answer  for  all  present  that  thby 
are  well  provided." 

"  There  are  seven  of  you  present,  and  none  needing  grain  !"  exclaimed 
Von  Joseph!. 

"  Yes.     Seven  noblemen,  all  abounding  in  grain  !" 

"  Seven  extortioners  !"  cried  Josephi.  rising  fr^m  his  sent,  and  looking 
as  if  he  would  have  stricken  them  to  the  earth  with  the  lightning  of  his 
flashing- eyes. 
•     "  What  means  this  insolence  ?"  asked  the  host. 

— "  It  means  that  I  have  found  beie  seven  men,  of  noble  birth,  who 
have  disgraced  their  caste  by  fattening  upon  the  misery  of  their  fellows. 
But,  by  the  eternal  God,  the  extortioner  bhall  be  l»randed  throughnut  the 
world !  And  be  he  gentle  or  base-born,  he  shall  feel  the  weight  of  my 
just  indignation." 

While  the  Emperor  spoke,  the  company  had  been  awaking  from  the 
stupor  caused  by  the  quantity  of  wine  they  had  been  drinking.  Grad- 
ually their  heads  were  raised  to  listen,  and  their  eyes  shot  fire,  unlil  at 
last,  they  sprang  from  their  seats  crying  out,  "  who  dares  speak  thus  to 
us  ?     By  what  right  do  you  come  to  insult  us  V 

"  By  what  right !"  thundered  the  Emperor.  "  The  Emperor  has  given 
me  the  right,  the  little  chicken-hearted  Emperor,  whose  commissioners 
you  have  bribed,  and  whose  subjects  you  have  oppressed,  until  nothing 
remains  for  him  but  to  come  among  you  and  drag  your  infamy  to  day- 
light with  his  own  hands." 

"  The  Emperor  ?  It  is  the  Emperor  !"  groaned  the  terror-stricken  ex- 
tortioners, while  Joseph  looked  contemptuously  upon  their  pale  and  con- 
science-stricken faces." 

Suddenly  the  host  burst  into  a  maudlin  laugh.  "  Do  you  not  see," 
said  he,  "that  our  facetious  guest  is  making  game  of  us  to  revenge  him- 
self for  our  refusal  to  buy  his  corn  ?" 

"  True,  true  !"  cried  the  lords  together.     "  It's  a  jest — a  trick  to " 

"  Peace  !"  cried  the  Emperor,  in  a  threatening  voice.  "The  hour  for 
jesting  has  passed  by,  and  the  hour  of  retribution  is  here.  I  came  to 
Bohemia  to  feed  my  starving  subjects,  and  I  will  feed  them  !  But  I 
shall  also  punish  those  who,  having  bread,  have  withheld  it  from  the  poor. 
You  shall  not  bribe  tne  either  with  your  parchments  of  nobility  or  with 
your  pride  of  family.  The  pillory  is  for  the  criminal,  and  his  rank  shall 
not  save  him." 

"  Mercy,  grafcious  Sovereign,  mercy  !"  cried  the  Freiherr,  whose 
glowing  cheeks  were  now  as  pale  as  death.  "Your  Majesty  will  not 
condemn  us  for  the  idle  words  we  have  spoken  from  excess  of  wine  !" 

"  What  mercy  had  you  upon  the  wailing  wretches,  of  whose  misery 
you  have  made  suoJi  sport  to-day  1" 


jyjK  JOSEPH    IHL  ^KCDxMD; 

"  Y'oiir  Majesty,"  said  cue  of  the  noblemcD,  sullenly,  *•  there  is  110 
law.  to  pi  event  a  man  from  holding  liis  own,  and  the  Bohemian  nobletnan 
has  his  own  code  of  justice,  and  is  amenable  to  n>>  oiher." 

"The  Bohemian  nobleman  shall  enjoy  it  no  longer!"  exc'aimed  the 
outraged  Emperor.  "  Before  their  earthly  judges,  men  shall  be  equal, 
as  they  are  before  the  throne  of  God." 

At  that  moment  the  door  opened  and  the  Emperor's  suife  came  in. 

"  Lacy,  Lacy  !"  cried  Joseph,  "you  were  right.  The  famine  is  not 
the  result  of  a  short  harvest,  it  is  due  to  these  n-ionsters  of  wickedness, 
whom  you  see  before  you  in  the  enjoyment  of  every  Iu.\ury  that  sensu- 
ality can  crave." 

"  Mercy,  sire,  mercy  !"  cried  a  chorus  of  imploring  voices,  and  look- 
ing behind  him,  the  Empe-or  saw  the  ladies,  who  all  sank  upon  their 
knees  at  his  feet.  While  Joseph  had  been  speaking  with  Lacy,  the  lord 
of  the  castle  had  hastened  to  communicate  their  disgrace,  and  to  bring 
the  wives  of  the  criminals  to  their  assistance. 

The  Emperor  frowned.  "  Ladies,"  said  he,  "we  are  on  the  subject 
of  politics,  the  same  subject  which  banished  you  hence  not  long  ago  — 
Rise,  therefore,  and  retire :  this  is  no  place  for  you." 

"  No,  sire  1"  cried  the  Freiherrin  Von  Weifach,  "I  will  not  rise  until 
I  ol^tain  pardon  for  ray  husband.  I  do  not  know  of  what  he  has  been 
guilty,  but  I  know  that  our  noble  Emperor  cannot  condemn  the  man 
under  whose  roof  he  has  come  as  an  invited  guest.  I  know  that  the 
Emperor  is  too  generous  to  punish  him,  who  confiding  in  him  as  a  man, 
little  suspected  thathe  who  came  under  a  borrowed  name,  was  the  sov- 
ereign lord  of  all  Austria!" 

"  Ah,  madam,  you  reproach  me  with  an  hour  spent  at  your  table,  and 
you  expect  me  to  overlook  crime  in  consideration  of  the  common  courte- 
sy extended  to' me  as  a  man  of  your  own  rank  I  I  was  so  fortunate  as  to 
overhear  the  little  discussion  that  preceded  my  entrance  here.  Rise, 
madam,  I  am  not  fond  of  Spanish  customs.  I  don't  like  to  see  women 
on  their  knees." 

"  Mercy  for  my  husband  !"  reiterated  the  Freiherrin.  "JForgive  him 
for  thinking  more  of  his  own  family  than  of  others.  What  he  did  was 
for  lova  of  his  wife  and  children."- 

"  Ah!"  exclaimed  the  Emperor,  "you  call  that  love  of  his  family ! — 
You  would  elevate  his  cruel  avarice  into  a  domestic  virtue !  I  congrat- 
ulate you  upon  your  high  standard  of  ethics  !  But  rise,  I  command  you. 
Meanwhile  you  are  right  on  one  point  at  least.  I  have  eaten  of  your 
salt,  and  I  am  too  true  a  nobleman  to  betray  you  to  the  Emperor.  I 
wUl  merely  tell  him  that  the  corn  is  found,  and  that  his  poor  people 
may  rejoice.'  Open  your  granaries,  therefore,  my  lords.  Let  each  of 
you,  this  night,  send  a  courier  to  your  tenants,  proffering  grain  to  all 
free  of  charge,  stipulating  only  that  as  a  return  for  the  gift,  the  peasan- 
try shall  bestow  a  portion  of  their  corn  upon  their  mother  earth.*     You 

will    s,ee    how   magical    is    the  effect  of    gerrerosity.     Your  stores  will 

——— — — ~ — 1 ' 

•  Gross  Hofflnger,  vol,  1,  png^  141' 


EMPEROR  OF  AUSTRIA.  109 

scatter  blessings  over  this  unhappy  land,  and  the  poor  will  bless  you  as 
their  lifiirfhcl'>rs.  Yi^s,  fieiillcmcn,  f'oin  this  Cla\  tMi-ward,  \  ou  will  he 
the  tVitiids  of  the  needy,  for,  God  be  praise<!,  you  h;i\e  c«>rn,  ani  for  the 
sake  <'f  ^otir  corn  1  forgive  you.  But  see  that  the  future  makes  full 
atonement  for  the  past." 

No  one  answered  a  word.  With  sullen  mien  and  downcast  e\es  they 
stood,  v.'hile  the  Emperor  surveyed  them  with  surprise. 

"What!"  said  he,  after  a  long  and  painful  pause,  "  not  a  word  of 
thanks!  Joy  has  made  you  dumb,  I  perceive.  And  no  wonder;  for  to 
feel  (for  the  first  time)  the  pleasures  of  benevolence  may.  well  make  you 
speechless  wiih  happiness.  As  for  you,  madam,"  continued  the  P^ntpe- 
ror,  addressing  his  hostess,  "  I  'will  Tiot  deprive  you  of  a  share  in  your 
husband's  generosity.  You  will  be  so  kind  as  to  call  up  your  servants 
and  bid  tiuMn  load  a  wagon  with  the  remains  of  our  excellent  dinner, 
not  forgetting  the  wines,  and  you  will  then  send  it,  with  yo*i>  greetings, 
to  your  tenants  in  yonder  village.  Your  servants  can  go  i)fh\n  house  to 
hous^e  until  the  store  is' exhausted."  ''         •  - 

"I  wilt  do'''what  your  Majesty  commands,"  said  the  Freiherrin,  pale 
with  rage. 

"I  do  not  doubt  it,"  Replied  the  Emperor,  latighing.  "  And  as  I  will 
be  glad  to  liear  how  your  boimty  is  received  in  the  village,  two  of  my 
own  attendants  will  accompany  yours.  Farewell,  my  lords,  I  must 
leave  you,  for  I  have  a  large  company  on  the  high-road  whom  I  have  in- 
vited to  supper.  The  Freiherrin  will  oblige  me  by  receiving  them  to- 
night as  her  guests.  In  this  stately  castle  there  are,  doubtless,  several 
rooms  that  can  be  thrown  open  to  these  weary,  suffering  mountaineers. 
Have  I  your  permission  to  send  them  hither?" 

"I  will  obey  your  Majesty's  commands,"  sobbed  the  lady,  no  longer 
able  to  control  her  tears. 

The  Emperor  bowed,  and  turning  to  his  attendants  said,  "come,  my  • 
friends,  our   messengers  "have   probably   arrived    before   this,  and    our 
guests  await  us."  • 

He  advanced  to  the  'door,  but  suddenly  stopped  and  addressed  the 
company;  "  My  lords,"  said  he,  "  for  once  your  wisdom  has  been  at 
fault.  It  is  well  that  the  sentimental  little  Emperor  did  not  remain,  as 
you  advised,  in  Vienna;  for  the  fetamp  of  his  imperial  foot  has  struck 
abundance  out  of  the  earth,  and  it  will  suffice  to  save  the  lives  of  his 
starving  boors." 


110  JOSEPH  THE  SECOND. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

DIPLOMATIC    ESOTERICS. 

Prince  Kaunitz  was  in  his  cabinet.  Baron  Binder  was  reading  aloud 
the  secret  dj_Mpatches  which  had  just  come  in  from  the  Austrian  Ambas- 
sador at  Berlin,  the  young  Baron  Yan  Swieten.  Meanwhile,  Kaunitz 
was  busy  with  a  brush  of  peacock's  feathers,  dusting  the  expensive  trifles 
that  coverefi  his  escritoire,  or  polishing  its  ebony  surface  with  a  fine  silk 
handkerchief,  which  he  kept  for  thei  purpose.  This  furbishing  of  trinkets 
and  furnitui^i,  was  a  private  pastime  with  the  all-powerful  Minister ;  and 
many  a  personage  of  rank  was  made  to  wait  in  the  ante-room,  while  he 
finished  his  dusting,  or  re-arranged  his  bijouterie,  until  it  was  grouped  to 
his  satisfaction. 

The  dispatches  which  were  being  read,  were  of  the  highest  impor- 
tance, for  they  related  to  a  confidential  conversation  with  the  King  of 
Prussia  on  the  subject  of  the  political  apple,  at  which  all  were  striving 
to  get  the  largest  bite.  The  King  of  Prussia,  wrote  the  Ambassador, 
had  spoken  jestingly  of  the  partition  of  Poland.  He  had  bespoken  for 
himself  the  district  of  Netz  and  Polish  Prussia,  premising  that  Dantzic, 
Thorn  and  Cracow  were  to  be  left  to  Poland. 

"  Very  well  arranged,"  said  Kaunitz,  with  his  accustomed  sang-froid, 
while  he  brightened  the  jewels  of  a  Sevres  ink-stand,  which  had  been 
presented  to  him  by  Madam  de  Pompadour.  "  Vraimeni  the  naivete  of 
this  Frederic  is  prodigious.  He  appropriates  the  richest  and  mpst  culti- 
vated districts  of  Poland  to  himself,  and  then  inserts,  as  an  unimportant 
clause,  the  stipulation  that  Cracow,  with  its  adjacent  territory,  the  rich 
salt  mines  of  Wieliczka,  shall  not  belong  to  Austria." 

"  Van  Swieten  would  not  agree  to  the  arrangement,"  said  Binder, 
"and  he  furthermore  declared  to  the  King  that  such  a  distribution  would 
be  prejudicial  to  Austria.  He  proposed,  however,  that  Austria  might 
be  indemnified  by  tlie  possession  of  Bosnia  and  Servia,  which  the  Porte 
should  be  made  to  yield." 

"  What  a  preposterous  fool,"  exclaimed  Kaunitz.  "Who  gave  him 
the  right  to  make  such  a  proposition  V 

"  Why,  your  Highness,  I  suppose  he  thought "  v 

"  He  has  no  right  to  think,"  interrupted  Kaunitz.  "  I  ask  of  no  em- 
ployee of  mine  to  think.  My  envoys  have  nothing  to  do  but  to  work 
out  my  thoughts,  and  that  without  any  intervention  of  their  own  fancies. 
It  is  very  presuming  in  my  little  diplomatic  agents  to  think  what  I  have 
not  thought,  and  of  their  own  accord  to  make  propositions  to  foreign 
courts.    Write  and  tell  him  so,  Binder,  and  add  that  neither  our  perma- 


E5IPER0R  OF  AUSTRIA.  Ill 

nent  peaceful  relations  with  Turkey,  nor  the  sentiments  of  consideration 
which  are  entertained  by  the  Empress  for  the  Porte,  will  allow  of  any 
attempt,  to  l^sen  his  territory.  '* 

"  Then  you  are  really  in  earnest,  and  intend  to  be  a  firm  ally  of  the 
Porto'?"  inquired  Binder  with  astonishment. 

"In  earne.st !"  repeated  Kiiunitz  with  a  shrug.  "You  statesman  in 
swaddling-clothes,  you  do  not  know  the  tirst  principles  of  your  profes- 
sion, and  yet  you  have  lived  wi'.h  me  for  thirty  years!  In  diplomacy 
there  is  no  such  thing  as  stability  of  policy.  Policy  shapes  itsulf  accor- 
ding to  circumstances  and  changes  as  they  change.  The  man  who  at- 
tempted to  follow  fi.\ed  principles  in  international  policy,  woiil^  soon 
find  himself  and  his  government  on  the  verge  of  a  precipice.''' 

"And  yet  there  is  no  statesman  in  Europe  who  adheres  .so  closely  to 
his  principles  as  yourself,"  e.\claitued  Binder  with  the  enthusiasm  of  Irue 
friendship.  > 

Kaunitz  inclined  his  head  n-iaje^-tically.  "My  principles  are  thi^. 
To  .make  Austria  rich,  great,  powerful.  Austria  shall  be  qiiocunquff 
modo,  the  first  power  in  Europe;  and  in  after  years  the  world  shall  say 
that  the  genius  of  Kaunitz  placed  her  on  the  mountain  peaks  of  hei? 
greatness.  For  this  end,  it  is  indispensable  that  1  remain  at  ihe  head 
of  European  affairs.  Not  only  Austria,  but  all  Europe  looks  to  me  to 
guide  her  through  (he  storm  that  is  threatening  the  general  peace.  I 
dare  not  leave  the  helm  of  state  to  take  one  hour's  rest,  for  what  would 
become  of  the  great  continental  ship,  if,  seeking  my  ow  n  comfort,  I  were 
to  retire  and  yield  her  fortunes  to  some  unsteady  hand  ?  There  is  no 
one  to  replace  me  !  No  one!  It  is  only  once  in  a  century  that  Heaven 
'vouchsafes  a  great  statesman  to  the  world.  This  makes  me  fear  for 
Austria  when  1  shall  have  gone  from  earth  and  there  is  no  one  to  suc- 
ceed me."f 

"May  you  live  many  years  to  rule  in  Austria!"  cried  Binder  warm- 
ly.    "  You  are  indispensable  to  her  welfare." 

"  I  know  it,"  said  Kaunitz  gravely.  "  But  there  are  aspirants  for  po- 
litical fame  in  Austria,  who  would  like  to  lay  their  awkward  hands  upon' 
the  web  that  1  weave.  No  one  knows  how  far  the  youthful  impetuosi- 
ty and  boundless  vanity  of  such  ambition  may  go.  It  might  lead  its 
possessor  to  entertain  the  insane  idea  that  he  could  govern  Austria  with- 
out my  goidance." 

"  You  speak  of  the  Emperor  Joseph  1" 

"Yes,  1  do.  He  is  ambitious,  overbearing,  and  vain.  He  mistakes 
his  stupid  longings  to  do  good,  for  capacity.  He  lusts  for  fame  through 
■war  and  conquest,  and  would  change  everything  in  his  mother's  empire, 
for  the  mere  satisfaction  of  knowing  that  the  change  was  his  own  work. 
Oh,  what  would  become  of  Austria  if  I  were  not  by  to  keep  him  within 
bounds!  It  will  task  all  my  genius  to  steer  between  the  Scylla  of  a 
bigotted,  peace-loving  Empress  and  the  Charybdis  of  this  reckless  Em- 

*  Wilhetm  Von  Dohm'a  Memoirs  of  My  Time  ;  vol.  1,  page  481 
t  The  Prince's  own  ^orde,    See  Swinbnmo,  vol.  1 ,  pagre  2J0. 


112  JOSEPH  THE  SECOND. 

peror :  to  reconcile  their  antagonisms  and  overrule  their  prejudices. 
JSiaria  Theresa  is  for  peijce  and  for  a.  treaty  wiih  the  Porte,  who  h:\s  al- 
ways been  a  good-natuied  harmless  nei;^hb<>r — Joseph  thirsts  for  war 
that  he  may  enlarge  his  dominions  and  parade  himself  before  the  world 
as  a  military  genius.  If  his  mother  were  to  die  to-morrow,  he  would 
plunge  headlong  into  a  war  with  Russia  or  with  Turkey,  whichever  one 
he  might, happen  to  fancy.  I  am  obliged  forever  to  hold  this  prospect 
before  his  eyes  to  keep  him  quiet.  1  must  also  pay  my  tribute  to  the 
wliims  of  the  reigning  Empress,  and  if  we  declare  war  to  pacify  Joseph, 
we  must  also  make  it  appear  to  Maria  Theresa  that  war  was  inevitable." 

"  By*heaven,  that  is  a  delicate  web  indeed  !"  cried  Binder  laughing. 

"Yes,  and  let  no  presuming  hand  ever  touch  a  thread  of  it,"  replied 
Kaunitz.  "I  sayjAs  much  as  I  have  said  to  you,  Binder,  because  the 
greatest  minds  m:^lst  sometimes  find  a  vent  for  their  conceptions,  and  I" 
truftt  nobody  on  earth  except  you.  Now  you  know  what  I  mean  by 
'.jsermanent  treaties  with  the  Porte,'  and  I  hope  you  will  not  ask  any- 
more silly  questions.  You  ignoramus,  that  have  lived  so  long  with 
Kaunitz  and  have  not  yet  learned  to  know  him !" 

"Your  Highness  is  beyond  the  comprehension  of  ordinary  men,"  said 
Binder  with  a  good-humored  smile. 

"  I  believe  so,"  replied  Kaunitz  with  truthful  simplicity,  while  he  care- 
fully placed  his  paper,  pens,  lines  and  penknife  in  the  drawer  wherein 
they  belonged. 

The  door  opened  and  a  servant  announced  his  Excellency  Osman 
Pascha,  Ambassador  of  the  Ottoman  Porte. 

"  Very  well,"  replied  Kaunitz  with  a  nod,  ."  I  will  see  him  presently." 

"  You  see,"  said  he  to  Binder,  as  the  door  closed  upon  the  servant, 
"  we  are  about  to  begin  in  earnest  with  the  Porte.  1  shall  receive  him 
in  the  drawing-room.  Meanwhile,  remain  here,  for  I  shall  need  you 
again." 

He  smiled  kindly  upon  his  friend  and  left  the  room.  Binder  looked 
after  him  with  tenderest  admiration.  "  He  is  a  very  great  man,"  said 
he  to  himself,  "and  he  is  right.  Austria  would  fall  to  the  rank  of  a  se- 
cond power  but  for  him.  What  if  he  does  know  it  and  boast  of  it  1  He 
is  a  truthful  and  candid  man  !      Voila  touij" 

And  he  sat  down  to  write  to  Van  Swieten  in  Berlin  to  beware  of  say- 
ing anything  prejudicial  to  the  interests  of  the  Porte. 

He  had  just  concluded  his  letter  when  Kaunitz  returned.  His  coun- 
tenance was  beaming  with  satisfaction  and  his  lips  were  half  parting 
with  a  smile.  "  Binder,"  said  he,  laying  a  roll  of  papers  on  the  escri- 
toire, "  here  are  sugar  plums  for  the  Emperor.  Can  you  guess  what  I 
have  in  these  papers "?" 

"  Not  a  declaration  of  war  from  Russia !"  exclaimed  Binder. 

— "  Hm  ;  something  very  like  it,,  I  assure  you.  Listen  !  It  is  the 
secret  treaty  which  our  Miaister  at  Constantinople,  Herr  Von  Thugut, 
has  just  concluded  with  the  Porte.  The  Sultan  has  already  signed  it, 
and  today  I  shall  present  it  for  signature  to  the  Empress.     She  will  do 


EilPEROK  OF  AUSTRIA.  113 

it  readily,  for  although  she  may  not  absolutely  doat  on  the  Infidel,  she 
hates  Russia;  and  tho  unbelieving  Turk  is  dearer  to  her  than  her  Chris- 
tian cousin,  the  Empress  Catharine."  , 

"  Then  after  all  we  are  the  firm  allies  of  Turkey,"  said  Binder. 

The  Prince  gave  a  shrug,  and  trifled  with  the  papers  he  had  brought 
with  him.  "  We  have  bound  ourselves,"  said  he,  reading  here  and  there 
among  the  leaves,  "to  bring  about  a  peace  between  Russia  and  Turkey, 
by  which  the  former  shall  restore  to  the  latter  all  the  provinces  which 
she  has  conquered  from  the  Porte  ;  or  if  not  all,  those  which  are  indis- 
pensable to  preserve  the  honor  of  Turkey  intact.  We  have  furthermore 
bound  ourselves  to  secure  the  independence  of  the  Republic  of  Poland." 

"But,  Prince,  that  contradicts  all  your  previous  understandings  with 
Prussia  and  Russia ;  it  contradicts  your  plans  for  the  partition  of  Po- 
land. It  will  certainly  lead  to  war,  for  your  Highness  has  forgotten 
that  Prussia  and  Russia  have  already  agreed  for  the  soi-disant  pacifica- 
tion of  Poland,  to  appropriate  the  greater  part  of  her  provinces  to  them 
selves. 

"  I  beg  you  to  believe,  my  verdant  friend,  that  I  never  forget  any- ' 
thing,"  said  Kaunitz  somewhat  haughtily.  "  I  am  perfectly  au  fait  to 
the  llusso-Prussian  treaty  ;  but  I  have  not  been  invited  to  the  banquet, 
and  I  do  not  intend  to  go  uninvited.  When  they  speak,  we  will  con- 
sider their  offers.  If  they  say  nothing,  we  go  to  war.  If  they  speak, 
we  will  allow  ourselves  to  be  persuaded  to  share  tho  booty  which  we 
cannot  restore  to  its  owners.  In  that  way,  we  are  iu  a  manner  forced 
into  this  coalition  and  the  opprobrium  of  the  act  falls  upon  those  who 
devised  it,  while  Maria  Theresa's  scruples  will  be  more  easily  over-, 
come." 

"  Prince,"  said  Binder  with  a  sigh,  "  I  give  it  up.  I  never  will  make 
a  statesman.  I  listen  to  your  words  as  to  a  Delphic  oracle  and  do  not 
pretend  to  understand  their  ambiguous  meaning.  I  understand,  howev- 
er, do  I  not,  that  we  are  the  allies  of  the  Sultan?  Now  we  thereby  do 
him  a  great  favor,  what  does  he  give  in  return  ?" 

"  Not  much,  but  still  something,"  said  Kaunitz  with  composure,  while 
his  fingers  again  turned  over  the  leaves.  "  The  Porte,  who  like  your- 
self, apprehends  war  with  Russia,  understands  that  if  Austria  is  to  be- 
friend him,  she  must  put  her  army  upon  a  war-footing.  If  Austria  is  to 
do  this  for  the  sake  of  Turkey,  Turkey  of  course  must  furnish  the  means. 
The  Porte  then,  in  the  course  of  the  next  eight  months,  w  ill  pay  us  the 
sum  of  twerjty  thousand  purses,  each  containing  five  hundred  silver 
piastres.  Four  thousand  purses  will  be  paid  down  as  soon  as  the  treaty 
is  signed.* 

"  Ten  million  of  piastres  !"  exclaimed  Binder,  with  uplifted  hands. 
"  By  heaven,  Prince,  you  are  a  second  Moses.  You  kmow  how  to  strike 
a  rock  so  that  a  silver  fountain  will  gush  from  its  barrenness." 

— "  I  shall  make  good  use  of  it,  too.     Our  coffers  need  replenishing, 
and  the  Emperor  will  rejoice  to  see  them  filled  with  the  gold  of  the  Infi- 
•  DobrnVi  Meujoires  of  My  Time ;  ^ol.  1 .  page  4T] 


1  14  JOSEPH  THE  SKCOND. 

del.  It  will  enable  him  to  raise  and  equip  a  gallant  army,  and  fihat  \<'il} 
give  hini  such  unbounded  delight  that  we  are  sure  of  his  signature.  Be- 
sides this,  the  Porte  presents  us  with  a  goodly  portion  of  VVallachia,  ho 
lixes  the  boundaries  of  Transylvania  to  our  complete  satisfaction,  and 
allows  us  free  trade  with,  the  Ottoman  empire,  both  by  land"  and  by 
water." 

"  But  all  these  concessions  will  cost  us  a  war  with  Russia.  The  ra- 
pacious Czaripa  will  be  furious  when  she  hears  of  them." 

"  She  will  not  hear  of  them,"  said  Kaunitz  quietly.  "  I  have  made  it 
a  stringent  condition  with  Osman  Pascha  that  the  treaty  with  Turkey 
shall  be  a  profound  secret.  The  Sultan  and  his  vizier  have  pledged  .their 
word,  and  the  Mussalman  may  always  be  trusted.  We  will  only  make 
the  treaty  public,  in  case  of  a  war  with  Russia." 

— "  Whence  it  follows  that  as  Russia  is  much  more  likely  to  court 
our  friendship  than  our  enmity,  the  treaty  with  the  Porte  is  all  moon- 
shine." 

"With  the  exception  of  the  ten  million  of  piastres  which  are  terres- 
trial and  tangible.  It  remains  now  to  see  whether  Turkey  will  keep  si- 
lence or  Russia  will  speak  !  In  either  case,  the  peace  of  all  Europe  now 
lies  in  Austria's  hands.  We  will  preserve  or  destroy  it  as  is  most  ad- 
vantageous to  our  own  interests.". 

At  that  moment  the  door  leading  to  the  ante-room  was  opened  and  a 
page  announced  Prince  Gallitzin,  Ambassador  of  her  Majesty  the  Em- 
press of  Russia ! 

This  announcement  following  the  subjects  which  had  been  under  dis- 
cussion, was  so  significant,  that  Kaunitz  could  not  conceal  his  'sense  of 
its  supreme  importance.  He  was  slightly  disturbed  ;  but  recovering 
himself  almost  instantaneously  he  said, 

"  In  five  minutes  I  will  receive  his  Highness  in  this  room.  Now  be 
gone,  and  open  the  door  punctually." 

"  What  can  the  Russian  Minister  want  to-d.ay  ?"  said  Binder. 

"  He  has  come  to  speak  at  last,"  replied  Kaunitz,  taking  breath. 

"  Not  of  the  partition  of  Poland  but  of  your  Turkish  treaty.  You 
will  see  that  the  Porte  will  not  keep  silence,  if  he  gain  anything  by 
talking." 

"  Three  minutes  gone,"  said  Kaunitz,  taking  out  his  watch.  "  Not 
another  word,  Binder.  Step  behind  that  screen  and  listen  to  our  dlscug- 
sion.     It  will  save  me  the  trouble  of  repeating  it  to  you." 

While  Binder  was  concealing  himself,  Kaunitz  was  composing  his 
visage  before  a  looking-glass.  It  soon  reached  its  accustomed  serenity 
and  not  a  lock  of  the  perruque  was  out  of  place. 

In  five  minutes  the  page  re-opened  the  door  and  announced  the  en- 
trance of  the  Russian  Ambassador. 


KMPEROK  V?  AUSTRIA:  [15 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

RUSSIA  SPEAKf?. 

Prince  Kaunitz  stood  in  the  centre  of  the  room  when  the  Russian 
MiYiister  made  his  appearance.  He  raised  his  cold  blue  eyes  with  per- 
fect indifterence  to  the  smiling  face  of  the  Russian,  who  bowed  low, 
while  his  host  vouchsafed  him.  a  slight  inclination  of  the  head.  Prince 
Gallitzin  seemed  to  be  as  unconscious  of  this  haughty  reception  as  of 
the  fact  that  Kaunitz  had  not  moved  forward  a  single  step  to  greet  him. 
He  traversed  with  unruffled  courtesy  the  distance  that  separated  him 
from  Austria,  and  gave  his  hand  with  the  grace  of  a  finished  courtier. 

Kaunitz  raised  his  hand  languidly  and  allowed  it  to  rest  for  a  moment 
in  the  palm  of  his.  cordial  visitor. 

"  See,  what  a  propitious  incident,"  said  Prince  Gallitzin.  "  Austria 
and  Russia  have  given  one  another  the  hand." 

"  Pardon  me,  your  Highness,"  replied  Kaunitz  gravely,  "  Russia  has 
offered  her  hand,  and  Austria  takes  it." 

"  But  without  returning  my  cordial  pressure,"  said  the  Russian. 

Prince  Kaunitz  affecte'd  not  to  hear  this  affectionate  reproach.  He 
pointed  to  the  arm-chairs  on  either  side  of  the  escritoire  saying,  "let  us 
be  seated." 

Prince  Gallitzin  waited  until  Kaunitz  had  taken  his  seat,  which  he  did 
in  a  most  deliberate  manner,  then  he  took  the  chair  opposite. 

"  Your  Highness  has  been  so  good  as  to  look  over  the  new  proposals 
for  pe&ce  which  Russia  has  offered  to  Turkey  1"  asked  Prince  Gallitzin. 

"  I  have  read  them,"  replied  Kaunitz  curtly.       . 

— *'  Your  Highness  will  then  have  remarked  that  accomodating  her- 
self to  the  wishes  of  Austria,  Russia  has  retained  only  such  of  her  con- 
ditions as  were  necessary  to  the  preservation  of  her  dignity  before  the 
world.  But  my  imperial  mistress  has  instructed  me  to  say  explicitly 
that  her  moderation  towards  Turkey  is  exclusively  the  fruit  of  her  con- 
sideration for  Austria.  But  for  this  consideration  Turkey  would  have 
felt  the  full  weight  of  the  Empress's  vengeance ;  and  it  might  have  come 
to  pass  that  this  Porte,  who  already  totters  with  his  own  weakness,  would 
have  been  precipitated  by  Russia  far  into  the  depths  of  the  Black  Sea." 

— "  In  that  case  Russia  would  have  learned  that  Austria  is  a  diver 
who  knows  how  to  fish  for  pearls.  "We  would  have  rescued  the  Porte 
from  the  Black  Sea,  and  if  he  were  not  strong  enough  to  sustain  himself, 
we  would  have  exacted  a  tonic  at  your  hands  in  the  form  of  more  ad- 
vantageous conditions  of  peace." 

"  Then  our  conditions  are  not  satlsfactorv  V^ 


116  JOSEPH  XHfi  SECOND) 

"  They  arc  of  such  ;i  nature  that  Austria  cannot  entertain  them  for  a 
moment.  Turkey  can  never  consent  to  the  independence  of  the  Crimea' 
and  Wallachia,  nor  will  Austria  counsel  her  to  such  an  indiscreet  bonces- 
sion.  This  would  be  so  contrary  to  the  interests  of  Austria  that  we 
would  oppose  it,  even  should  Turkey  be  forced  by  untoward  circum- 
stances to  yield  the  point." 

"  Ah  1"  cried  Gallitzin  laughing,  "  Austria  would  find  herself  in  the 
singular  position  of  a  nation  warring  with  another  to  force  that  ration 
to  take  care  of  its  own  interests.  Will  your  Highness  then  tell  me  what 
are  the  conditions  which  Austria  is  willing  to  accept  for  Turkey  V 

— "  They  are  these.  That  the  right  of  the  Sultan  to  appoint  the  Khan 
of  Crimea  and  the  Hospodar  of  Wallachia  remain  untouched.  If  Russia 
will  recognise  the  sovereignty  of  the  Porte  in  that  quarter,  then  Austria 
Tvill 'induce  him  to  withdraw  his  pretensions  in  Tartary." 

"  And  to  leave  to  Russia  at  least  the  territory  she  has  conqqered 
there  V  asked  Gallitzin  with  his  ineffable  smile.  '•  The  Czarina  has  no 
desire  to  enlarge  her  vast  empire.  Russia  does  not  war  in  the  Crimea 
for  herself,  but  for  a  noble  race  of  men  who  feel  rich  and  powerful 
enough  to  elect  their  own  rulers.  Her  struggle  in  Tartary  is  simply 
that  of  civilization  and  freedom  against  barbarism  and  tyranny." 

"How  beautiful  all  this  sounds  in  the  mouth  of  a  Russian,"  said 
Kaunitz,  smiling.  "You  will  acknowledge  that~  Russia  is  not  always 
consistent;  for  instance — in  Poland,  where  she  does  not  perceive  the 
right  of  a  noble  race  of  men  to  elect  their  own  rulers,  but  forces  upon 
them  a  king  whom  they  all  despise.  I  must  now  declare  to  you  that 
my  Sovereign  will  enter  into  negotiations  with  Turkey  on  one  condition 
only  :  that  the  territorial  rights  of  Poland  be  left  untouched,  not  only 
by  Russia,  but  by  any  other  European  power."* 

Prince  Gallitzin  stared  at  Kaunitz  as  he  heard  these  astounding,  words, 
but  the  Austrian  met  his  gaze  with  perfect  unconcern. 

"Your  Highness  defends  the  integrity  of  Polish  territory,"  said  Gal- 
litzin, after  a  short  pause,  "  and  yet  you  have  been  the  first  to  invade  it. 
Is  not  the  Zips  a  portion  of  the  Kingdom  of  Poland  V 

"  No,  your  Highness,  no.  The  Zips  was  originally  a  Hungarian  de- 
pendency, and  was  mortgaged  to  Poland.  We  intend  to  resume  our 
property  and  pay  the  mortgage  in  the  usual  way.  This  is  not  at  all  to 
the  point.  We  speak  of  the  fate  of  Poland.  As  for  Austria,  she  aims  at 
nothing  but  her  rights,  and  as  soon  as  the  Empress  of  Russia  withdraws 
her  troops  from  Polish  ground,  we  will  withdraw  ours  as  well  as  all  pre- 
tensio|Cs  whatever  to  the  smaller  portion  of  Polish  territory." 

"  And  doubtless  your  Highness  intends  to  restore  everything  for  which 
the  Poles  are  now  contending.  Her  ancient  Constitution,  for  instance  ; 
that  Constitution  which  has  been  thrown  upon  the  political  system  of 
Europe  like  the  apple  of  Eres,  threatening  discord  and  conflict  without 
end." 

"^?l'  5^!'^  Kaunitz,  quickly,  "  their  Constitution  must  be  modified 


as  the  intevosts.of  tlioir  ueighitors  luay  require.  We  roust,  uniie  ifU 
some  modiftCHtions  that  are  suitable  to  us,  and  if  Poland  refuses  to  ac- 
cept them,  she  must  he  forced  to  do  it." 

*'  Ah!"  cried  Gallitzin,  much  relieved,  "if  your  Highness  is  of  this 
mind,  we  will  soon  understand  one  another,  and  I  may.  therefore,  be 
permitted  to  speak  with  perfect  frankness  on  the  part  of  Russia." 

"  At  last!"  exclaimed  Kaunltz,  taking  a  long  breath.  "  Russia  will 
speak  at  last!  So  far,  she  has  only  acted,  and  !  confess  that  her  actions 
have  been  inexplicable." 

"Russia  keeps  pace  with  Austria,"  said  Gallitzin.  "  The  Court  of 
Vienna  says  that  the  integrity  of  Poland  must  bo  respected  ;  neverthe- 
less she  is  the  first  to  lay  her  hand  upon  it." 

"  Some  things  wo  dare  not  do,  because  they  seem  too  difficult — other* 
only  seem  to  be  difiicult  because  we  dare  not  do  them.  We  have  taken 
our  slice  of  Poland  because  it  belonged  to  us,  and  the  difficulty  of  tho 
step  has  not  deterred  us." 

'■  Ah,  your  Highness,  as  regards  your  right  to  the' Zips,  there  is  not  a 
kingdom  in  Europe  that  has  not  some  old  forgotten  right  to  her  neigh- 
bor's territory !     Russia   and Prussia,  too,  have   similar   claims   on 

Poland,  so  that  if  it  be  agreeable  to  the  Empress-Queen  and  to your 

Highness,  we  will  meet  together  to  have  an  understanding  on  the  sub- 
ject. Some  little  time  may  be  required  to  define  our  several  claims, 
but  (his  once  settled,  there  will  be  no  further  difficulty  in  the  way." 

"  I  see,"  said  Kaunitz,  with  a  satisfied  air,  "  that  wo  already  under- 
stand one  another.  As  Russia  has  spoken,  and  has  made  proposals, 
Austria  is  ready  to  respond.  But  before  we  attend  to  our  own  affairs, 
let  us  give  peace  to  Turkey.  The  Court  of  Vienna  will  negotiate  be- 
tween you.  Let  me  advise  you  to  be  exorbitant  in  your  demands;  go 
somewhat  beyond  your  real  intentions,  so  that  Austria  may  be  obliged 
to  doclioG  your  proposals." 

"  And,  in  this  way,  your  Highness  proposes  to  bring  about  a  peace 
with  Turkey  ?"  asked  Prince  Gallitzin,  astounded. 

"  Certainly  I  do.  Austria  declines  the  proposals  ;  Russia  moderates 
her  demands,  that  is,  she  conc<^des  what  she  never  intended'to  exact,  and 
presents  tliis  as  her  ultimatum.  Austria,  satisfied  with  the  conoessions 
now  offered  to  her  ally,  is  of  the  opinion  that  he  should  acxiept  them, 
and  if  he  prove  unreasonable,  must  force  him  to  do  it." 

"  Your  Highness  is  indeed  a  great  statesman !"  exclaimed  GalUtzis. 
with  enthusiasm. 

"  When  a  Russian  Ambassador  says  so,  it  must  be  true,"  replied 
Kaunitz,  bowing.  "  As  to  Poland,  the  great  question  there,  is  to  pre- 
serve the  balance  of  power.  I  beg,  therefore,  that  Russia  and  Prussia 
will  make  known  at  once  the  extent  of  their  claims  there,  that  Austria 
may  shape  hers  accx^rdingly.  I  shall  enter  at  once  into  correspondence 
with  the  King  of  Prussia,  to  ascertain  his  views  as  to  the  future  bounda- 
ries of  Poland.  Two  things  are  indispensable  to  ensure  the  success  of 
this  affair" 


1  18  JUSEl'H   mE  SECONDJ 

—"What  arc  Uiey?"' 

"  First ;  perfect  frankness  between  the  three  Powers  who  are  to  act  as 
one,  and  celerity  of  action,  Jest  Poland  should  be  quieted  before  we 
come  in  with  c»7/|r- remedy.'' 

"  I  agree  with  yotu     And  second?" 

"  Second  :  profound  secrecy.  If  France  or  England  were  to  scent 
the.atfair,  there  would  be  troublesome  intervention,  tiud  we  might  all  be 
disappointed.  Europe,  must  not  learn  the  partition  of  Poland  until  it  is 
A  fait  accompUy 

"I  promise  discretion  both  for  Russia  and  Prussia,"  said  Gallitzin, 
eagerly.  "  Europe  shall  not  hear  of  it  until  our  troops  are  on  the  spot  to 
defend  us  from  outside  interference.  All  that  is  necessary  now,  is  to 
find  three  equal  portions  so  that  each  claimant  shall  be  satisfied."   , 

'*  Oh,"  said  Kaunitz,  carelessly,  as  he  played  with  the  lace  that  edged 
his  cuffs,  "  If  three  equal  parts  are  not  to  be  found  on  Polish  ground, 
we  can  trespass  upon  the  property  of  another  neighbor  who  has  too 
ranch  land,  and  if  he  resists,  we  can  very  soon  bring  him  to  reason." 

Prince  Gallitzin  looked  with  visible  astonishment  at  the  cold  and 
calm  face  of  the  Austrian.  "  Another  neighbor  ?"  echoed  he,  with  em- 
barrassment. "  But  we  have  no  neighbor  unless  it  be  the  Porte  him- 
self." 

"  He  is  precisely  the  neighbor  to  whom  I  have  reference,"  said  Kau- 
nitz,  nodding  his  head.  "  He  is  almost  as  troublesome  as  Poland,  and 
will  be  the  better  for  a  little  blood-letting.  I  authorize  your  Highness 
to  lay  these  propositions  before  your  court,  and  await  the  answer." 

"  Oh  !", cried  Gallitzin,  laughing,  while  he  arose  from  his  chair,  "  you 
will  always  find  Russia  ready  for  a  surgical  operation  upon  the  body  of 
her  hereditary  enemy.  The  law,  both  of  nature  and  of  necessity,  impels 
her  to  prey  upon  Turkey,  and  the  will  of  Peter  the  Great  can  never  be 
carried  out  until  the  foot  of  Russia  rests  upon  the  Sultan's  throne,  at 
Stamboul." 

"  Well,"  said  Kaunitz,  when  Prince  Gallitzin  had  taken  his  leave, 
"  did  you  understand  oi»r  conference,  Binder  ?" 

"Understand!"  exclaimed  Binder,  coming  from  behind  the  screen. — 
"  No,  indeed  !  I  must  have  been  drunk  or  dreaming.  I  surely  did  not 
hear  your  Highness,  who,  not  an  hour  since,  concluded  a  treaty  with 
Turkey,  by  which  the  independence  of  Poland  was  to  be  guaranteed, 
1  surely  did  not  hear  you  agree  to  a  partition  between  Russia,  Prussia 
and  Austria !" 

— ^*' Yes  you  did.  We  are  driven  to  accept  our  share  of  Poland 
merely  by  way  of  decreasing  that  of  our  neighbors." 

"  Then  I  did  understand  as  regards  Poland.  But  I  must  have  been  . 
dreaming  when  I  thought  you  had;  told  me  that  we  had  concluded' .acr 
trcjaCJ'  with  the  Porte,  by  which  he  pays  us  ten  millions  of  piastres  for  - 
our  good  offices  with  Russia." 

"  Not  at  all.     I  certainly  told  you  so." 

"  Then,  dear  Prince,  I  have  lost  my  senses,"  cried  Binder,  "  for  indeed 


•    &MPEKUK  oy   ACSTKIA  J  jU 

I  dreamed  that  you  ha^  proposed  to  Russia,  that  in  case  there  vtas  not ' 
land  enough  to  satisfy  you  all  in  Poland,  to  lake  sorae  from  the  Sultan."' 

"  You  have  heard  aright.  You  are  very  tiresome  with  your  questioufJ 
and  }our  stupid/wonder  stricken  face.  1  suppose  if  a  piece  of  Polaml 
were  thrown  at  your  feet,  you  would  pick  it  up  and  hand  it  over  V^ 
Stani^^!:lus;  and  if  the  Porte  stood  before  you  with  a  raillion  of  piasters, 
you  would  say,  '  not  for  the  world  !'  It  is  easy  to  see  what  would  be- 
come of  Austria  in  your  dainty  hands  !  An  enviable  position  she  would 
hold,  if  conscience  were  to  guide  her  policy  !" 

"No  danger  while  i/ou  hold  the  reins,  for  there  will  never  be  a  traco 
of  conscience' in  your  policy,"  muttered  Binder,  gathering  up  his  papers 
and  passing  into  the  adjoining  room. 

Piince  Kaunitz  shrujrged  his  shoulders  and  rang  his  bell. 

'•My  new  state-coach  !"  said  he  to  Hippolyte,  who,  instead  of  flying 
off  as  usual  to  obey,  remained  standing  at  the  door. 

"  Why  do  you  stand  there  f  asked  the  Prince. 

''  Pardon  me,  your  Highness,  the  state-coach  is  not  ready,"  stammer- 
ed the  valet. 

"  Not  yet  ready  ?"  repeated  the  Prince,  accenting  each  word.  "Did 
I  not  order  it  to  be  here  at  two  o'clock  ?" 

"  Yes,  your  Highness,  but  the  upholsterer  could  not  understand  the 
drawings  which  were  given  him.  Ho  began  to  work  by  them,  but  was 
obliged  to  undo  his  work,  and  this  caused  the  delay." 

"  The  man  has  the  assurance  to  say  that  he  could  not  work  after  the 
drawings  made  by  my  own  hand?"  asked  Kaunitz,  with  a  fiery  glance 
of  anger  in  his  eyes.  "  Because  he  is  an  ass,  does  the  churl  dare  to  crit- 
icise nvj  drawings !  Let  him  bring  the  body  of  the  coach  to  the  palace 
and  1  will  show  him  that  he  is  a  bungler  and  knows  nothing  of  his 
trade." 

And  the  Prince,  in  his  rage,  stalked  to  the  door.  Suddenly  he  stop- 
ped.    "  What  is  the  state  of  the  thermometer  to-day  ?"  said  he. 

The  valet  flew  to  the  window  and  examined  the  little  thermometer 
that  hung  outside. 

"Twelve  degrees,  your  Highness." 

"Twelve  degrees,"  sighed  the  Prince,  "then  I  dare  not  go  to  the 
coach  house.     Is  the  coach  mounted  on  the  wheels?" 

"  No,  your  Highness." 

"  Then  let  the  upholsterer  have  the  carriage  brought  to  my  room, 
with  the  drawings  and  his  tools.    Be  ofl*!  In  ten  minutes  all  must  be  here !" 

Just  ten  minutes  later  the  door  opened,  and  in  came  a  hand-barrow, 
upon  which  stood  the  body  of  the  coach.  It  was  one  mass  of  bronze, 
plate-glass  mirrors,  and  gilding.  Behind  it  appeared  the  upholsterer, 
pale  with  fright,  carrying  on  one  arm  a  bundle  of  satin  and  velvet  and 
in  his  right  hand  holding  the  drawing  of  the  Prince. 

"  Set  it  down  in  the  centre  of  the  room,"  said  Kaunitz,  imperiously, 
and  then  turning  a  look  of  wrath  upon  the  unhappy  upholsterer,  he  said, 
with  terrible  emphasis. 


1  2 1 )  ;  OiS  K  i-  i1    T  H  H,  S  ECO  X L> 

"  I3  It  true  that  you  have  the  audacity  to  say  that  you  cannot  work 
after  my  drawuigs  ?" 

"  I  hope  your  Highness  will  forgive  me,"  stammered  the  upholsterer, 
"but  there  is  not  room  in  the  inside  of  the  coach  for  all  the  bows  and 
rosettes.  I  would  have  been  obliged  to  make  them  so  small  that  the 
coach  would  have  looked  like  oue  of  the  patterns  we  show  to  our  cus- 
tomers." 

"  And  you  dare  tell  me  that  to  ray  face?  Do  you  suppose  that  I 'do 
not  know  your  miserable  trade,  or  do  you  mean  that  it  is  easier  to  gov- 
ern an  empire  than  to  trim  up  a  coach  ?  I  will  prove  to  you  that  I  am 
a  better  upholsterer  than  you  are.  Open  the  door  and  I  will  decorate 
tile  coach  myself." 

The  upholsterer  opened  the  richly  gilded  glass  door,  and  Kaunitz,  as 
much  in  earnest  as  when  he  had  been  giving  and  taking  a  kingdom,  en- 
tered the  coach  and  seated  himself. 

"  Give  me  the  satin  and  velvet  and  hold  up  the  drawings,  that  I  may 
work  after  them.  Some  of  you,  hand  me  the  nails,  and  some  one  have 
the  needle  ready.  You  shall  see  how  Prince  Kaunitz,  through  the  stu- 
pidity of  his  upholsterer,  is  obliged  to  decorate  the  interior  of  his  own 
coach." 

The  Prince  began  to  work ;  and  in  the  same  room  where  he  had 
signed  treaties  and  received  ambassadors,  the  great  Austrian  statesman 
sewed  and  hammered  until  he  had  decorated  his  carriage  to  his  own 
satisfaction. 


CHAPTER  XXXi. 

THE    LAST    PBTITloy. 

Maria  Theresa  paced  her  cabinet  in  visible  agitation.  Her  face  was 
sad  beyond  expression,  and  her  eyes  turned  anxiously  towards  the  door. 

"  I  tremble,"  murmured  she ;  "  for  the  first  time  in  my  life  I  mistrust 
the  deed  I  am  about  to  do.  All  is  not  clear  in  the  depths  of  my  con- 
science ;  the  voice  that  whispers  such  misgivings  to  my  heart,  is  one 
which  shames  the  worldly  wisdom  of  my  counsellors.  We  are  about 
to  do  a  wicked  deed,  and  we  shall  answer  for  it  before  heaven  !  Would 
that  my  right  hand  had  lost  its  cunning,  ere  ever  it  had  been  forced  to 
sign  this  cruel  document.  Oh,  it  is  an  unholy  thing,  this  alliance  with 
an  unbelieving  King  and  a  dissolute  Empress!  And  an  alliance  for 
what!  To  destroy  a  kingdom,  and  to  rob  its  unhappy  people  of  their 
nationality  forever !" 

"  But  what  avails  remorse  V  continued  she.  heaving  a  deep  sigh.    "  It 


rMrKKof.  jr  i;  -^iKiA  Til 

is  too  late,  too  late  !  in  a  few  moments-  Joseph  will  be  here  to  exact 
my  signature,  and  1  dare  not  refuse  it.  I  have  yielded  my  right  to  pro- 
test against  this  crime  and ah!  ho  comes,"  cried  the  En^. press,' press- 
ing her  hands  upon  her  heart,  as  she  heard  the  lock  of  the  di>or  turning. 

She  fell  into  an  arm-chair  and  trembled  violently.  But  it  was  not  the 
Emperor  who  appeared  as  the  door  opened  ;  it  was  the  Baroness  Von 
Sahnour,  governess  to  the  Archduchesses. 

"  Baroness!" cried  the  Empress,  "it  must  be  something  of  most  im- 
minent  importance  that  brings  you  hither.     What  is  it?" 

"  f  come  in  the  name  of  misfortune  to  ask  of  your  Majesty  a  fayor," 
said  the  Baroness,  earnestly. 

"  Speak  then,  and  speak  tjuickly." 

"  Will  your  Majesty  grant  an  audience  to  my  unhappy  country-wo- 
man, the  Countess  Wielopolska?" 

"Tlie  Countess  Anna."  said  the  Empress,  with  a  shudder.  Then,  as 
if  ashamed  of  her  agitation,  she  added  quickly. 

"  Admit  her.     If  the  Emperor  comes,  let  him  enter  also." 

The  Baroness  courtesied  and  withdrew,  but  she  left  the  door  open,  and 
now  v.as  seen  advancing  the  tall  and  graceful  figure  of  the  Countess. — 
Her  face  was  pale  as  that  of  the  dead.  She  still  wore  her  black  velvet 
dress,  and  the  long  vqil  which  fell  around  her  person,  hovered  about  her 
like  a  dark,  storm-heralding  cloud. 

"She  looks  like  the  angel  of  death,"  murmured  the  Empress.  "  It 
seems  to  me  that  if  those  pale,  transparent  hands,  which  she  folds  over 
her  breast,  were  to  unclasp,  her  icy  breath  would  still  the  boatings  of 
my  heart  forever !" 

The  Countess  glided  in  like  a  vision,  and  the  door  closed  behind  her. 
The  Empress  received  her  with  an  affable  smile. 

'*  It  is  very  long  since  I  have  seen  you,"  said  the  proud  Maria  Theresa, 
with  an  embarrassment  to  which  her  rank  had  hitherto  made  her  a 
stranger. 

"  1  was  waiting  to  be  summoned  by  your  Majesty, "replied  the  Coun. 
tess. 

'•  And  as  I  did  not  summon  you,  you  came  voluntarily.  That  was 
kind.     I  am  very  glad  to  see  you." 

The  lady  replied  to  these  flattering  words  by  an  inclination  of  the 
head,^nd  a  pause  ensued.  Each  one  seemed  waiting  for  the  other  to 
speak.  As  the  Empress  perceived,  after  awhile,  that  the  lips  of  the 
pale  Countess  did  not  move,  she  resolved  to  break  the  irksome  silence 
herself.  In  her  own  frank  way,  scorning  all  circumlocution,  she  went  at 
once  to  the  subject  nearest  their  hearts. 

" I  know  why  you  are  here  today,"  said  she,  with  a  painful  blush. — 
"You  have  heard  of  the  fate  which  threatens  Poland,  and  you  have 
come  to  ask  if  thus  I  fulfil  the  promises  I  made  to  you  !  Speak — is  it 
rot  so  ?  Have  I  not  rightly  read  the  meaning  of  that  lovely,  but  joy- 
less face  ?" 

"  It  is  so,"  sighed  the  Countess,  and  her  voice  trembled  with  unshed 


122  JOSEPH  riiK  SKCUXU 

tears.  "  Yes,  from  the  solitude  wherein  1  had  bmicd  my  grief  since  last- 
1  >:;iw  \^nir  Majesty,  1  have  hear;d  the  fata!  tidings  of  my  cuutH.ry''s  woe, 
and  \etllive!  Oh,  why  bhould  the  b^jdy  survive  when  the  soul  is 
dead!" 

Her  words  died  away  upon  her  lips,  and  she  seemed  to  grow  paler 
and  more  pale,  as  though  every  drop  of  blood  in  her  veiny  had  sliiliened 
and  turned  tu  lee.  But  she  heaved  A  siyh  and ,  rallied,  fur  hope  now 
touched  her  heart,  and  the  statue  awoke  to  life. 

'•  Ah,  great  Empress,"  said  she,  wiih  fervor,  "  I  come  to  you,  in  whose 
powerful  hand  lies  the  issue  of  my  country's  fate,  whose  mighty  word 
can  bid  us  live  or  doom  us  to  death." 

"  Oh,  were  it  so,  you  would  not  sue  in  vain !"  cried  the  Empress,  sor- 
rowfully. "  Had  the  fate  ()f  Poland  lain  in  my  hands,  she  would  have 
risen  tritimphant  fiom  the  arena,  where  she  has  battled  so  bravely  for 
her  «acred  rights !" 

"  Poland's  fate  lies  in  your  Majesty's  hand  !"  exclaimed  the  Countess, 
vehemently.  "'  You  have  not  yet  signed  the  warrant  for  my  country's  ex- 
ecution ;  you  are  still  innocent  of  her  blood  ;  your  hand  is  still  free  from 
participation  in  the  crime  of  her  enemies  and  yours  !  Oh,  lot  me  kiss 
that  hand,  and  bless  it  while  yet  it  is  spotless  and  pure  as  your  noble 
heart." 

Hurried  away  by  the  might  of  the  sorrow  that  overwhelmed  her,  the 
Conntess  da'ted  forward,  and  throwing  herself  at  the  feet  of  the  Em- 
press, drew  her.  hand  fervently  to  her  lips. 

'"Rise,  dear  Countess  Anna,  rise,"  said  the  Empress,  soothingly.  "I 
cannot  bear  to  see  you  at  my  feet  when  I  can  do  nothing  to  avert  the 
fate  of  Poland." 

"  Who,  then,  can  help  her  if  not  your  Majesty  !"  cried  the  Countess. 
"Oh,  I  did  not  come  hither  to  reproach  you,  I  came  but  to  entreat  for 
the  word  that  will  disenthral  my -country  !" 

"  I  cannot  do  it,  as  God  hears  me,  1  cannot,"  repeated  Maria  The- 
resa, in  a  voice  of  anguish.  "I  have  striven  against  it  with  all  my 
might.  What  I  have  suffered  for  your  countrymen,  no  one  will  ever 
know  !  The  anxious  days  and  wretched  nights  that  I  have  spent  for 
their  sakes,  have  threatened  my  life."* 

"  I  CANNOT  !"  echoed  the  Countess,  who  seemed  to  have  heard  nothing 
but  these  few  words.  "  An  Empress !— An  Empress !  who,  \\yth  a 
wave  of  her  hand,  sways  millions  of  men,  and  is  responsible  for  her 
actions  to  no  earthly  power !" 

— "Save  that  which  resides  in  the  rights  of  her  subjects  over  the  sov- 
ereign that  is  bound  to  reign  for  their  good.  I  am  responsible  to  my 
people  for  the  preservation  of  peace.  Too  much  blood  has  been  shed 
since  I  came  to  the  throne ;  and  nothing  would  induce  me  to  be  the 
cau^e  that  the  soil  of  Austria  should  be  crimsoned  by  another  drop."f 

"  And  to  spare  a  drop  of  Austrian  blood,  your  Majesty  will  deal  the 

*  The  Empress's  own  words.    Sep  Kaumer,  Contributions  to  Modern  History,  vol.  4,  page  689. 
f  The  EmpresH'B  own  words.    See  Wolt  Austria  under  Muia  Thoreea,  page  S2T. 


d::>ifji:KiiK  uf  Ai.'STRU  12'S 

blow  that  murders  a  whole  nation  I '  cried  the  Countess,  risinp  to   her 

f<nt  and  looking  di^Hciiicc  at  ihe  Empress.  '*Jii  ^our  ej^oiism  foi  Aus- 
tria, you  turn  from  a  noble  nation  who  have  as  good  a  right  to  freedom 
as  ^our  own  people!" 

— "  Countess,  you  forget  yourself.  B}  what  righi  do  you  reprove 
me?" 

"  iJy  the  light,  \v!iich  MisfnrUinc  gives  lo  TmiU),"  teplied  r-\tv,  proudly, 
"and  by  ihe  right  which  your  imperial  word  has  giv^n  me  to  sjeak. — 
For  now  1  recall  to  you  that  promise,  and  1  ask  where  is  the  eagle 
that  was  to  swoop  down  upon  the  vultures  which  are  preying  upon  Po- 
land?" 

^JOh,  they  have  caged  the  eagle,"  said  the  Empress,  sadly.  "  God 
in  he'iven  knows  how  uianfully  I  have  battled  for  PoUnd.  When  I 
threatened  interference,  the  answer  was  this  ;  '  We  hive  resoi.ed  to  dis- 
member Polaml,  and  you  fhall  not  prevent  us.'  What,  then,  could  I 
do  ?  Declare  war  ?  That  were  to  ruin  my  people.  Remain  passive, 
while  my  enemies  enlarged  their  frontiers,  so  as  to  endanger  uty  own  ? 
We  then  had  recourse  to  stratagem.  We  defended  our  soil  inch  by 
inch,  and  gave  up  when  resistance  became  fanaticism.  We  required  fir 
our  share  more  than  we  desired,  h<tping  to  be  refused.  But  no  !  To 
my  sorrow  and  disappointment,  even  more  was  apportioned  than  we 
had  claimed.  Oh!  the  whole  ihinu  has  been  so  repuirnant  to  my  si'nso 
of  justice  th;it  I  refused  to  take  any  share  in  its  arrangements,. and  all 
negotiations  have  been  conducted  by  the  Emperor,  Prince  Kaunitz  and 
Marshal  Lacy."*  '     .  ii    : 

'"  And  these  are  the.  ashes  of  the  mighty  promises  of  Empeiliors  and 
Empresses!"  exclaimed  the  Countess,  bitterly.  ''Oh,  Empress,  think  of 
the  time  when  you  shall  appear  before  God,  to  give  account  ('f  \  our 
deeds  !  How  will  yon  answer  when  the  record  vf  this  day  is  bionyhfc 
before  you?  For  the  last  time  I  am  at  your  feet.  Oh,  as  you  h(jpe  tor 
mercy  above,  do  -oot  sign  the  act  that  dismembers  Poland  !" 

Sh:'  was  again  on  her  knees,  her  beautiful  eyes  drowned  in  tears,  and 
her  hands  clasped  convulsively  above  her  head. 

"Oh,  myG<»d!"  exclaimed  the.  Empress,  rising  to  her  feet,  "  she 
does  not  believe  n>e."  Then  bending  tenderly  over  the  Countess,  she 
pressed  her  hands  between  her  t)wn,  and  gently  raised  her  to  a  seat. 

"  Do  you  not  see  how  deeply  I  suffer,  when  I  have  no  spirit  to  chide 
your  hard  words  tome!  Ii  is  because  !  comprehend  your  sorrow,  p"or 
child,  that  I  forgive  your  iniM>tice  !  And  n<^w,  to  prove  my  sincerity," 
added  she,  going  to  her  escritoire  and  taking  from  it  a  letter,  "read  this. 
1  was  about  to  send  it  to  Prince  Kaunitz,  when  yoiir  visit  caused  me  to 
forget  it.  Read  it  aloud,  that  1  may  know  whether  you  understand  me 
at  last." 

The  Coihitess  unfolded  the  letter  and  read  : 

"  When  my  own  empire  was  threntened,  and  I  knew  not  where  to  lay 
my  head,  .when  the^ sorrows  of  child  birth  were  overtaking   me.  {  thiew 
•  Thtg  dticonrw  !■  tiUtorioRJ.    8eo  Wolf,  psgo  625.    Eanmer,  vol.  4,  page  B4ft, 


I '24  '        '  JOSKl'H   iHli  SKCUND 

myself  upon  God  and  my  just  rights.  But  to-day,  when  humanity,  jus- 
tice, aye,  reason  itself,  cry  aloud  against  our  acls,  I  confess  to  you  that 
my  anxiety  transcends  all  that  I  have  ever  suffered  in  my  life  before. 
Tell  me,  Prince  Kaunitz,  have  you  thought  of  the  evil  example  we 
are  giving  to  the  nations  of  earth,  when,  for  the  sake  of  a  few  acres 
of  additional  territory,  we  cast  away  our  reputation,  our  dignity  and  our 
honor?" 

"  If  I  yield  to  day,  it  is  because  I  struggle  alone,  and  no  longer  have 
the  vigor  of  mind  to  contend  for  right,  as  in  years  gone  by,  1  would 
have  done,     I  am  overpowered,  but  I  surrender  with  a  bleeding  heart."* 

The  Countess  remained  looking  at  the  paper,  for  a  time,  then  she 
raised  her  tearful  eyes  to  the  face  of  the  Empress.  "  I  thank  your  Ma- 
jesty," said  she,  deeply  moved,  "for  allowing  me  to  see  this  letter.  It 
will  remain  in  history  as  a  noble  monument  of  Maria  Theresa's  recti- 
tude. 1  have  no  longer  a  word  uf  blame  for  you,  and  once  again  in 
love  and  reverence,  I  kiss  this  hand,  although  I  know  that  to-day  it  must 
sign  the  death-warrant  of  unhappy  Poland." 

She  drew  near,  and  raised  the  hand  of  the  Empress  to  her  lips.  But 
Maria  Theresa  threw  her  arms  around  the  Countess,  exclaiming,  "  To 
my  heart,  dear,  unhappy  one  !  I  cannot  save  Poland,  but  I  can  weep 
with  her  loveliest  and  noblest  daughter!" 

The  Countess,  overcome  by  this  unexpected  tenderness,  leaned  upon 
the  bosom  of  the  Empress,  and  wept.  Maria  Theresa  stroked  her  lus- 
trous black  hair,  and,  as  she  kissed  her  marljle  cheek,  the  tears  that  had 
gathered  in  her  eyes,  fell  upon  the  head  of  the  Countess,  where  they 
glittered  like  stars  upon  the  darkness  of  the  night. 


CHAPTER   XXXII. 

PINIS    POLONIAE. 

Neither  saw  the  door  open,  but  both  heard  a  soft,  melodious  voice, 
saying  :  "  Pardon  me,  your  Majesty,  I  thought  yon  were  alone," 

The  Countess  uttered  a  low  cry,  and  trembled  from  head  to  foot. 

"  Do  not  fear,"  said  the  Empress,  as  she  gently  withdrew  her  arms, 
"  It  is  my  son,  the  Emperor.  We  need  not  hide  our  tears  from  him, 
for  he  knows  that  this  is  not  the  first  time  his  mother  has  wept  for  Po- 
land." ■  -  ■      ■ 

The  Emperor  said  nothing ;  he  stood  staring  at  the  pale  and  trem- 

*  This  letter  was  written  by  MariJi  Theretft'B  own  hand.    Bee  Horrnnyr'e  Pocket-History  of  ♦or 
IB»tlvel3nd.  1W,     Psgp  6C 


BaiPEBOR  OF  AUSTRIA.  lt»5 

bling  Anna.  He,  too,  grew  deathly  pale  as  he  looked,  and  now  his 
trembling  limbs  answered  to  tlie  agitiiLion  that  was  overpowering  her. 
Suddenly,  as  though  awaking  from  a  painful  dream,  he  approached,  and 
offering  his  hand,  said, 

"  1  rejoice  to  see  you  ;  I  have  long  sought  you  in  vain." 

She  did  not  appear  to  see  him  :  her  arm  hung  listlessly  at  her  side 
while  her  figure  swayed  to  and  fro  like  a  storm  tossed  lily. 

"Ihave  not  been  in  Vienna,"  answered  she,  in  a  voice  scarcely  aud- 
ible.    "I  had  gone  to  bury  my  sorrow  in  solitude." 

"  But  her  love  for  Poland  brought  her  hither,"  said  the  Empress,  put- 
ting her  aim  affectionately  around  the  Countess's  waist. 

"I  believe  you,"  returned  Joseph,  bitterly.  "  The  fate  of  Poland  is 
the  only  thing  Worthy  of  touching  the  Countess  Wielopolska.  She  is 
not  a  woman,  she  is  a  Pole — nothing  moip." 

One  low  wail  struggled  from  the  depths  of  her  breaking  heart,  but 
she  spoke  not  a  word. 

The  Emperor  went  on  :  "The  Countess  Wielopolska  is  not  a  woman, 
she  is  a  monad,  representing  patriotism,  and  he  who  cannot  think  ^s  she 
does,  is  a  criminal,  unworthy  of  hfr  regard." 

"  You  are  cruel,  my  son,"  said  the  EmpresSj  deprecatingly.  "If  the 
Countess  has  been  bitter  in  her  reproaches  to  you,  we  must  remember 
her  grief,  and  her  right  to  reproach  us.  We  should  be  gentle  v»(iih  mis- 
fortune, above  all  when  we  can  bring  no  relief." 

"Let  him  go  on,  your  Majesty,"  murmured  the  wretched  Anna, 
while  her  eyes  were  raised,  with  a  look  of  supreme  agony,  upon  the 
stern  face  of  the  Emperor. 

*'  Your  Majesty  is  right.  I  am  nothing  but  a  Pole,  and  I  will  die  with 
my  fatherland.  Your  hands  shall  close  our  coffin-lids,  fur  our  fates  will 
not  cost  you  a  tear.  The  dear,  noble  Empress  has  wept  for  us  both, 
and  the  i-emembrance  of  her  sympathy  and  of  your  cruelty,  we  will 
carry  with  us  to  the  grave." 

The  Emperor's  eyes  flashed  angrily,  and  he  was  about  to  retort,  but 
he  controlled  himself  and  approached  the  Empress.  "  Your  Majesty 
will  pardon  me  if  1  interrupt  your  interesting  conversation,  but  Stale 
affairs  are'  peremptory,  and  supercede  all  other  considerations.  Your 
Majesty  has  commanded  my  presence  that  I  might  sign  the  act  of  parti- 
tion. The  Courier,  who  is  to  convey  the  news  to  Berlin  and  St.  Peters- 
burg, is  ready  to  go.     Allow  me  to  ask  if  }Our  Majesty  has  signed." 

The  Countess,  who  understood  perfectly  that  the  Emperor  in  passing 
her  by,  to  treat  with  his  mother  of  this  dreadful  act  of  partition,  wished 
to  force  her  to  retire,  withdrew  silently  to  the  door.  But  the  Empress, 
hurt  that  her  son  should  have  been  so  unfeeling,  went  forward  and  led 
her  back  to  her  seat. 

"  No,  Countess,  stay.  The  Emperor  says  that  you  represent  Poland. 
Then  let  him  justify  his  acts  to  us  both,  and  prove  that  what  he  has 
done,  is  right.  1  have  suffered  such  anguish  of  mind  over  the  partition 
of  Poland,  that  Joseph  would  lift  «  load  from  my  heart,  if  he  could 


126  JOSEPH  THE  SECONP. 

show  me  that  it  is  inevitable.  My  son  you  havo  come  for  my  signature ; 
before  God,  your  mother,  and  Poland  herself,  justify  our  deed,  and  I  will 
sign  the  act." 

"  Justify !  There  are  many  things  which  we  may  defend  without  be- 
ing able  to  justify  them;  and  stern  necessity  often  forces  us  to  the  use 
of  measures  which  conscience  disapproves." 

"  Prove  to  me,  then,  the  necessity  which  has  forced  us  to  dismember 
a  country  whose  people  have  never  injured  us,"  said  the  Empress,  au- 
thoritatively. 

— "  But  whose  disunion  at  home  has  become  dangerous  to  their  neigh- 
bors. Poland  lies,  like  a  sick  man,  in  our  midst,  whose  d)ing  breath 
inft'uts  ihe  land.  •»  When  there  i?=  a  fire' in  our  neighborhood,  we  are 
sontetinit^s  obliged  to  tetr  down  the  burning  house  lest  the  fire  spread' 
to  our  own." 

"Yes!"'  interrupted  the  Countess,  "but  you  do  not  rob  the  neighbor 
of  his  land.     The  soil  belongs  lo  him  who  owns  the  house."  • 

— •'  But  the  Pules  are  n<>i  worthy  to  own  their  soil.  What  is  Po- 
land to-day'?  A  race  of  slnves  and  |  e  isants,  without  law  or  order, 
driven  hither  and  thither  h\  a  lewd  and  corrupt  aristocracy,  who  in- 
stead of  blushing  fur  the  degeneracy  of  their  caste,  hold  their  saturnalia 
over  the  very  graves  of  their  noble  ancestors  !  And  at  the  head  of  this 
degenerate  people  is  their  King,  the  minion  of  a  foreign  court,  who  pro- 
ninlgates  the  laws  which  he  receives  fn.m  his  imperial  Russian  mistress. 
Verily  God  has  weii;hed  the  Polish  nation  in  His  balance,  and  they  have 
been  fmnd  "wjinting!" 

''Enough!"  faltered  the  Countess,  rai^in'g  her  hand  in  deprecation. — 
"  Why  will  you  vilify  a  people  who  are  in  the  throes  of  death?" 

"  No.  it  is  not  enoHijih,'  said  the  Emperor,  sternly.  "The  Empress 
says  that  I  nuisi  justify  the  acts  of  the  three  Powers  to  Poland — that  pale 
and  beauiiful  statute  before  me,  which  lives  and  yet  is  not  a  woman.  I 
say  it  iiyaiii -,  a  nation  dies  by  it^  own  corruption  alone!  Poland  bears 
within  herself  the  seeds  of  her  destruction.  Her  people  have  been  false 
to  their  antecedents,  false  to  themselves,  to  their  honor,  and  even  to  their 
faith.'* 

"  Y'^u  accuse,  but  you  bring  no  proofs  !"  exclaimed  the  Countess^  her 
eyes  now  flashing  with  woinided  pride. 

•Oh,  it  will  not  be  difficult  to  collect  my  proofs,"  said  the  Emperor, 
sneering.,  "  Look  at  what  t^ikes  place  in  Poland,  since  your  countrymen 
have  f(,trseen  lhie  fate  of  their  fatherlaird.  What  are  the  Polish  diet  do- 
ing, since  they  anticipate  the  close  of  their  sittings'?  Votinsi  themselves' 
pensions,  property  and  every  conceivable  revenue  at  the  expense  of  the 
Republic,  and  giving  her,  with  their  own  parricidal  hands,  the  coup  de 
grace.  Such  shameless  corruption  has  never  come  to  light  in  the  history 
of  any  other  nation!  Freedom  and  ratherland  ace  in  every  mouth,  but 
in  reality,  no  people  c*re  less  for  either,  than  do  the  Poles.  Slaves, 
who,  while  they  hold  out  their  hands  to  be  manacled,  are  striving  to 
♦  W"lf.    Austria  under  Maria  Theresw.  ra?© 539. 


KMPRKOK  OF  AUSTRIA,  127 

rei^Ti  over  other  slaves  !"*    This  is  a  picture  of  ihe  Poland  "whom  jou 
love;  «nd  throiigli  her  own  crime-,  she  is  dying." 

•  1 1  is  nut  true  !"  cried  ihe  indignant  Countess.  "She  dies  through 
the  covetou.sness  and  greed  <if  her  neighbors.  It  is  they  who  have  sown 
di.isenLion  in  Poland,  while  forcing  upon  her  unhappy  people  a  King 
who  is  nothing  but  the  despicable  tool  of  their  despicable  intrigues." 

"  All  this  has  no  reference  to  Austria,"  objected  the  Emperor.  "  We 
had  nothing  to  do  with  the  selection  of  the  King;  nothing  to  do  with 
the  projects  of  dismetnbfrment.  They  wen-  resolved  upon,  with  or  with- 
out our  sanction,  and  tjie  la.v  of  self-preservation  demands  that  if  we 
cannot  prevent,  we  must  endeavor  to  profit  by  thcin.  I  know  ihiii  the 
partition  of  Poland  has  an  appearance  of  gross  outrage  which  is  obvious 
to  every  eye,  while  the  stringent  necessity  which  has  diiven  Austiia  to 
participate  in  il,  is  known  to  few. — 1  confess  that  I  would  be  giievt^d  if 
the  world  should  misjudge  me  on  iliis  question,  for  I  try.  both  in  public 
and  private  life,  to  be  aii'honest  man  ;  and  I  believe  that  hone^ty  in 
6taiesman>hip  is  the  wisest  and  soundest  policy. f  We  could  nrX  do 
otherwise  than  we  have  done,  and  now  with  the  tulj  conviction  of  the 
exigency  which  has  called  for  the  act,,  I  reptat  my  question  to  your  Ma- 
jes  y,  "  Have  you  signed  the  act,  or  will  yt)u,  be  so  kind  as  to  sign  it 
now." 

'ihe  Empress  had  listened  with  profound  attention  to  her  son's  dis- 
course, and  her  countenance,  which  before  had  been  pale  with  anxi^t y, 
had  assumed  an  expression  of  blended  serenity  and  resolution.  A  pause, 
ensued.  Marble  while  and  speechless,  the  Connless  witli  hall-opfu 
mouth  started  and  bent  forward,  her  eyesfixed  upon  the  Em[)ress;  the 
Emperor,  stern  and  proud,  threw  back  his  head  and  g.ized  defiant. 

Anl  )ii  the  midst  of  this  throbbing  silence,  Maria  Theresa  went  for- 
ward and  took  her  seat  at  the  escritoire.  She  dipped  her  pen  in  the 
silver  inkstand,  and  a  sob,  that  sounded  like  the  last  death-sigh,  esca- 
ped from  the  lips  of  the  Countess.  The  Empress  turned  quickly  around  ; 
but  the  glance  of  her  eye  was  resolute  and  her  hand  was  firm. 

She  bent  over  the  parchment  and  wrote;  then  throwing  her  pen  on 
the  floor  she  turned  to  the  Emperor  and  pointed  with  her  right  hand  to 
the  deed,  '^Placet"  cried  she  with  her  clear,  ringing  voice,  "■placel, 
since  so  many  great  and  wise  men  will  have  it  so.  When  1  am  dead, 
the  world  will  Jearn  what  came  of  this  violation  6f  all  that  man  holds 
sacred.]; 

And  either  that  she  might  conceal  her  own  emoftion,  or  avoid  an  out- 
burst of  grief  from  the  Countess,  the  Empress  walked  hastily  through 
the  room,  and  shut  herself  up  in  her  dressing-room. 

The  Countess  moaned,  and  murmuring  "^^Yww  Poloniae  !''''  she  too  at- 
tempted to  cross  the  room. 

The  Emperor  watched   her,  his  eyes  beaming  with   tenderness,   his 

*  Baumer,  Contributions,  vol.  4,  page  &51 

t  The  Eraperort  owii  wordp.    See  Ka'imer,  Oonti1bu»1onf ,  Ac.    Vol  4,  ppge589, 

'  The  Empr? <•>  owD  w'irdf . 


128  JOSEPH  I'HE  SISOOKU. 

heart  a  prey  to  violent  anguish.  As  she  reached  the  door,  he  saw  her 
reel  and  cling  to  a  column  for  support. 

With  one  bound  he  reached  her,  and  flinging  his  arms  around  her 
swaying  figure,  she  fell,  almost  unconscious,  upon  his  bosom.  She  lay- 
but  for  one  bewildering  moment  there. 

^^  Finis  Poloniae!"  murmured  she  again,  and  drawing  herself  up  to 
her  full  height,  she  again  approached  the  door. 

"  Farewell !"  said  she,  softly. 

The  Emperor  seized  her  hand.  "Anna,"  said  he  imploringly,  Anna 
do  sve  part  thus'?"  Is  this  our  last  interview"?  Shall  we^  never  meet 
again?" 

She  turned,  and  all  the  love  that  she  had  struggled  to  conquer,  was 
in  her  eyes  as  they  met  his.     "  We  will  meet  once  more,"  replied  she. 

••'  When  V  cried  Joseph,  frantic  with  grief. 

— "  When  the  hour  has  come  for  us  to  meet  again,  I  will  send  for 
3?ou.     Promise  to  be  there  to  receive  my  last  farewell." 

"  I  swear  to  be  there." 

"  Then  farewell." 

"  Farewell,  beloved  Anna!     Oh  let  me  touch  your  hand  once  more!" 

"  No  !"  said  she  harshly  ;  and  opening  the  door  she  disappeared  and 
the  Emperor  was  left  alone. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

THE  FIERCE  COUNTESS. 

Count  Starhembero  paced  his  splendid  drawing>room  in  a  state  of 
great  excitement.  Sometimes  he  murmured  broken  sentences,  then  he 
sighed  heavily,  and  again  he  seemed  to  be  a  prey  to  fear.  Occasionally 
his  eyes  glanced  almost  reproachfully  towards  the  figure  of  a  young  man 
who,  with  folded  arms  and  smiling  countenance,  stood  in  the  embrasure 
of  a  window  watching  the  old  man's  agitation. 

As  the  clock  on  t^e  marble  mantel  struck  the  hour,  the  Count  stopped 
before  his  young  visitor,  and  looked  searchingly  at  his  mild  and  effimi- 
Mate  face. 

"  The  half  hour  has  elapsed.  Count  Esterhazy,"  said  he  solemnly.  "  I 
have  told  you  frankly  that  my  niece,  although  a  beautiful  and  perchance 
a  good-hearted  woman,  has  a  temper  which  is  the  terror  of  my  house- 
hold. She  inherits  this  misfortune  from  her  deceased  father,  and  un- 
happily her  lovely  and  amiable  mother  did  not  long  survive  him.  There 
has  been  no  one,  therefore,  to  control  her,  and  her  terrible  temper  has 


EMPEROK  OP  A^STKIA.  129 

never  been  restrained.  Do  not  say  to  me  that  /might  have  corquered 
it!  i  have  dedicated  my  whole  life  to  her;  and  lest  she  should  ifako 
another  being  unhappy,  I  have  remained  a  bachelor,  as  you  perceive. 
But  I  had  made  a  solemn  promise  to  her  parents  that  1  would  be  a'  fa- 
ther to  her,  and  I  have  kept  my  promise.  It  is  not  my  fault  if  their 
child  is  less  amiable  than  other  women.  She  has  an  energetic  charac^ 
ter,  and  I  fear  that  if  she  marries  she  will  find  means  to  tyrannise  over 
her  husband.  I  repeat  this  to  you,  Count,  that  we  may  clearly  under- 
stand each  other,  and  now  that  the  half  hour  has  gone  by,  do  you  still 
urge  your  suit?" 

"Yes,  Count,  I  do,"  replied  Esterhazy  in  a  soft,  treble  voice.  "As  her 
guardian  I  repeat  to  you  the  offer  of  my  hand  to  the  Countess  Margaret 
Starhemberg." 

The  Count  bowed.  "  I  have  done  my  duty,  and  being  oleared  of  all 
rCvSponsibility  in  the  alfair,  I  give  my  consent.  You  must  now  try  to 
win  hers." 

*'  I  would  like  to  see  the  Countess  in  your  presence,"  said  Esterhazv 
unnloved.  ^ 

Count  Starhemberg  rang  the  bell,  and  ordered  a  servant  to  bear  a. 
request  to  his  niece  to  join  him  in  the  drawing  room. 

"The  Countess  would  have  the  honor  of  joining  her  uncle  immediate- 
ly," was  the  answer. 

"  This  promises  well,"  said  the  old  Count  looking  relieved.  "  She 
generally  practises  her  music  at  this  hour,  and  I  am  surprised  that " 

Just  then,  the  sharp  tones  of  an  angry  female  voice  were  heard  with- 
out, then  the  jingling  of  glasses,  then  a  crash,  and  the  fall  of  some  heavy 
metallic  body. 

"  That  is  my  niece,"  said  the  old  man  with  a  shiver.  "  That  is  the 
fanfare  which  usually  announces  her  coming." 

Now  the  door  was  flung  violently  open,  and  a  tall,  magnificent  woman 
dashed  into  the  room.  Her  features,  marvellously  chiselled  as  that  of 
the  antique  Venus,  would  have  been  irresistible  in  beauty,  if  their  ex- 
pression had  corresponded  to  their  symmetry.  But  in  her  large  black 
eyes  glared  the  fire  of  ungoverned  passion,,  and  her  rosy  mouth  was 
curled  with  contempt. 

Her  tall  figure  was  of  exquisite  proportions,  and  her  arras,  adorned, 
but  not  hidden  by  the  lace  which  fell  from  the  short  sleeves  of  her  crim- 
son velvet  dress,  were  as  fair  and  beautiful  as  those  of  the  Venus  of 
Milos. 

Count  Esterhazy,  intoxicated  by  the  sight  of.  hex  wondrous  beauty, 
withdrew  abashed  behind  the  window-curtain,  while  the  Countess,  grace- 
ful as  an  angry  leopardess,  bounded  through  the  room,  and  stood  before 
her  uncle. 

"  Who  has  annoyed  you,  my  child  ?"  asked  he  timidly. 

"He  is  an  idiot,  an  awkward  animal,  and  shall  be  driven  from  the  house 
with  the  lash !"  cried  she.  "  Just  imagine,  uncle,  that  as  I  was  coming 
hither,  I  met  him  in  the  ante-ro<»m  with  a  plateau  of  cups  and   glasses. 


130  JOSEPH  THE  SECOND 

When  lie  saw  me,  the  fool  fell  to  trembling  as  if  he  had  seeti  an  evil 
spirit — the  plateau  shook,  and  my  dear  mother's  last  gift,  the  goblet 
from  which  she  had  cooled  her  dying  lips,  fell  to  the  floor,  and  was 
broken." 

Her  voice  at  iirst  so  loud  and  angry,  was  now  soft  and  pathetic  and 
her  eyes  glistened  with  tears.     She  shook  them  off  impatiently.  **■ 

"I  can  well  understand,  dear  child,  how  much  it  must  have  grieved 
you  to  lose  this  precious  relic,"  said  her  uncle  soothingly. 

She  blushed  as  though  she  had  been  surprised  in  a  fault. 

"  Oh,  it  was  not  that,"  said  she  pettishly,  "  it  is  all  the  same  to  me 
whether  the  goblet  was  a  relic  or  not,  for  I  hate  sentiment. 

But  I  detest  such  an  awkward  fool.  He  never  could  carry  anything 
without  letting  it  fall." 

— "  Nay,  my  child,  he  has  often  carried  you  for  hours  in  his  arms,  and 
yet  he  never  let  you  flill." 

"  Uncle,  your  jests  are  insupportable,"  cried  she,  stamping  with  her 
little  satin-slippered  foot  upon  the  carpet.  You  excuse  this  gray-headed 
dunce  merely"  to  vex  me,  and  to  remind  me  that  I  am  an  orphan  without 
a  home." 

— "  But  my  dear " 

"  Peace  !  1  will  not  be  interrupted.  If  I  am  tyrannised  over  in  every 
other  way,  I  will  at  least  claim  the  right  to  speak — I  wish  to  say  that 
this  old  plague  shall  not  remain  here  another  day  to  torment  my  life 
with  his  nonsense " 

This  time,  however,  I  made  him  feel  the  weight  of  my  hand.     His 
face  was  as  red  as  my  dress  after  it." 
-   "  You  struck  my  faithful  old  Isidor  f  cried  the  Count,  shocked. 

"  Yes  I  did,"  replied  she,  looking  defiantly  into  her  uncle's  mild  face. 
"  I  beat  him  well,  and  then  I  threw  the  whole  waiter  of  cups  and  glasses 
upon  the  floor.  Ilave'you  any  fault  to  find  with  that,  my  sympathising 
uncle  ?" 

"  None,  none,"  said  the  old  man;  "  If  it  gave  you  pleasure  to  break 
the  glasses,  we  will  go  out  and  buy  others." 

— "  We  !  No,  indeed,  we  shall  not.  Isidor  shall  pay  for  them  from 
his  wages.  It  was  his  fault  that  I  was  obliged  to  break  them,  and  no 
.one  shall  suffer  for  it  except  himself.  I  claim  that,  as  an  act  of  bare 
justice  to  myself." 

— "  But  my  dear  Countess^ " 

She  stamped  her  foot  again.  "  Great  God,  have  you  no  object  in  life 
except  that  of  contradicting  and  ill-treating  me  !" 

The  Count  sighed  and  approached  the  door.  She  heard  him, '  and  aa 
exulting  smile  lit  up  her  beautiful  stormy  face. 

"Well,  as  you  will  not  tell  him,  I  shall  do  it  myself.  Yes — I  shall 
do  it  myself.     Do  you  hear,  uncle  1     You  shall  not  say  a  word  to  him." 

— "I  will  say  nothing,  Margaret.  Will  you  now  allow  me  to  speak 
of  other  things  ?    In  your  vehemence  - — " 

Uncle  ? 


EMl'EIlUJl  UF  AUbTlUA.  13  J 

"  In  your  just  displeasure,  you  have  overlookea  the  fact  that  wc  arc 
not  alone." 

He  pointed  to  the  •window  where,  half-hidden  by  the  heavy  sillc  dra- 
pery, stood  Count  Prank  Estorhazy.  The  Countess  followed  her  uncle's 
glance,  and  as  she  became  aware  of  the  visitor's  presence,  burst  into  a 
merry  lough. 

"  Do  not  be  frightened,  young  man,"  said  she  then ;  *'  you  may  come 
out  from  your  corner.  I  am  not  a  cat,  and  1  don't  devour  mice.  Ah 
you  have  heard  our  discussion?  What  a  pity  you  arc  not  a  dramatic 
poet,  you  have  Imd  such  an  opportunity  for  depicting  a  foolish  old  guar- 
dian and  his  spirited  ward  !" 

"  Unfortunately  I  am  not  a  poet,"  said  the.  young  Count  coming  for- 
ward and  bowing  to  tho  door.  "  If  I  were,  I  could  write  to-day  a  hun- 
dred  sonnets  to  the  eyes  of  tho  majestic  Hera,  whose  anger  heightens 
her  wonderful  beauty." 

•  "  Uncle,"  said  the  Countess,  suddenly  assuming  a  stately  and  court- 
like demeanor,  '•  be  so  good  as  to  present  me  this  youug  stranger,  who 
pays  such  insipid  compliments." 

— "  My  dear  niece,  let  me  introduce  Count  Frank  Estcrhazy,  a  noble- 
man just  returned  from  Italy,  who  is  in  high  favor  with  the  Empress." 

"  Tho  latter  is  no  recommendation,  uncle,  for  am  I  not  also  a  favorite 
with  the  Euipress  ?  Have  you  not  often  told  me  so  when  the  Empress 
was  humbling  me  with  some  of  her  tyrannical  condescension  ?" 

— "Certainly,  my  child,  I  have  said  so." 

"Then  you  see  that  it  is  not  necessary  to  be  estimable  for  one  to  gain 
the  Empress's  good-will.  For  my  part,  I  wish  she  loved  me  less,  for 
then  she  would  spare  mc  some  of  the  long  sermons  with  which  she  edi- 
fies me,  when  I  happen  to  appear  at  court." 

"  That  probably  is  the  reason  you  appear  so  seldom,"  asked  Count 
Esterhazy.     "  I  heard  your  absence  complained  of." 

*'■  By  her  Majesty  1"  asked  Count  Starheraberg, 

"  No,  your  Excellency,  by  the  Emperor."J 

«  What  did  he  say  V 

"  Dare  I  repeat  his  word "?"  asked  Esterhazy,  appealing  to  the  Count- 
ess.   She  bowed  her  head,  and  leaned  against  the  back  of  an  arm-chair, 

"  I  was  yesterday  at  the  Empress's  reception.  The  Emperor  was  so 
kind  as  to  do  the  honors  of  the  Court  to  me.  He  pointed  out  the  several 
beauties  of  Vienna,  who  were  all  strangers  to  me — '  But,'  said  he,  '  tho 
most  beautiful  woman  in  Austria  I  cannot  show  you,  for  she  is  not  here. 
The  Countess  Margaret  Von  Starhemberg  has  the  beauty  of  Juno  and 
Venus  united.' " 

The  Countess  said  nothing ;  she  stood  with  downcast  eyes.  Her 
cheek  had  paled,  and  her  lips  Were  firmly  compressed  together.  Sud- 
denly she  rallied  and  said  with  a  careless  laugh, 

"  I  wager  that  the  Empress  and  her  ladies  made  some  amiable  com- 
mentary on  the  Eraperor'.'s  words.  Corao,  tell  mc  what  said  the  Em- 
pr«s5 "" 


•>" 


IS2  iOSEPH  I'HR  SECONUt        ^ 

"  If  you  command  me — Countess,  I  will  tell  ycu.  The  Empress  ad- 
ded  with  a  sigh,  '  It  is  true,  she  is  as  beautiful  as  a  Goddess,  but  it  is 
Eris  whom  she  resembles.' '' 

"Very  witty  !"  exclaimed  the  Countess  with  a  sneer. 

"And  the  Emperor  1"  inquired  the  uncle. 

"The  Emperor  frowned  at  the  ladies  who  began  to  laugh.  *Your 
Majesty  may  be  right,'  said  he,.'  but  Grecian  Mythology  has  forgotten  to 
suy  whether  the  tierce  Goddess  was  ever  vanquished  by  Love.  Love 
tames  the  most  turbulent  of  women.'" 

The  Countess  uttered  a  sharp  cry,  and  caught  with  both  her  hands  at  the 
back  of  the  arm-chair.  Her  eyes  closed,  and  a  deadly  paleness  over- 
spread her  countenance.  Her  uncle  hastened  to  put  his  arm  around  her, 
inquiring  tendsrly,  "  Dearest  child,  what  ails  youl" 

She  leaned  for  a  while  upon  his  shoulder  ;  then  raising  her  head  while 
deep  blushes  crimsoned  her  cheeks,  she  said  haughtily,  "  It  is  nothing. 
A  sudden  faintness  to  which  I  am  subject."  With  an  inclination  of  the 
head  to  Count  Esterhazy,  she  continued, 

"  You  will  be  so  good  as  not  to  mention  this  weakness  of  mine.  It 
is  purely  physical,  and  I  hope  to  conquer  it  in  time.  I  am  rejoiced  to 
think  that  I  have  verified  the  words  of  the  Empress  and  have  appeared 
before  you  to-day  as  an  Eris,  I  suppose  you  came  hither  to  see  me  out 
of  curiosity." 

"  No,  Countess  Margaret,  the  purport  of  my  visit  was  anything  but 
curiosity.  I  come  with  the  sanction  of  your  guardian  to  offer  you  my 
hand."  '         ; 

The  black  eyes  of  the  Countess  darted  fire  at  the  smiling  suitor. 

"  You  do  not  answer  me,"  said  he  blandly.  "  I  say  that  I  have  won 
the  consent  of  your  uncle,  and  respectfully  solicit  yours.  It  shall  be  the 
study  of  my  life  to  make  you  happy ;  and  perhaps  at  some  future  day 
my  untiring  devotion  may  win  a  return  of  my  love.  Speak  then.  Coun- 
tess, say  that  you  will  be  my  wife." 

"  Never,  never,"  cried  she,  stretching  forth  her  arrns  as  though  to  ward 
away  some  threatening  evil.  "  I  shall  never  be  the  wife  of  any  man. 
I  was  not  made  for  marriage,  I  will  not  bow  my  will  before  that  cf  any 
other  fellow-mortal." 

"  I  shall  not  require  you  to  do  so,"  replied  the  Count  as  though  he 
had  now  removed  every  objection.  "You  will  be  in  my  house  as  you 
are  here,  absolute  mistress  of  all  things,  and  I  shall  claim  nothing  but 
the  right  of  being  your  humblest  and  most  devoted  servant." 

"  Unhappily  for  you,  you  know  not  what  you  claim,"  exclaimed  the 
Countess  angrily.  "  Ask  my  uncle,  ask  his  household,  and  they  will  tell 
you  that  I  am  a  tyrant,  changing  my  will  twenty  times  an  hour ;  hating 
to-day /the  thing  I  shall  love  tomorrow.  Oh,  you  would  aspire  to  be 
my  husband,  would  you  ^  Have  you  no  friends  to  warn  you  of  the, 
reefs  upon  which  you  are  running  that  poor  little  crazy  bark  of  yours  1 
Why  the  very  people,  as  they  see  me  pass,  tell  of  my  frantic  doings  ; 
•■^nd  every  child  in  Vienna  knows  that  I.  beat  my  servant?,  rage  about 


lu^   uncle's  house  like   tlio  foul  fieod,  and  dash  through  the  streets  uu 
horselsack  like  the  Wild  Huntsman." 

" '  Love  tames  the  wildest  hearts,'  so  s:iys  the  Emperor." 

Margaret  started,  and  darted  a  fiery  glance  at  his  tranquil  face. 

'•But  I  do  not  love  you,  I  tell  you;  and  it  is  useless  to  say  another 
word  on  the  subject." 

"Nay,"  said  the  Count,  taking  her  hand,  "  it  is  not  useless.  I  be- 
seech you,  do  not  deny  my  8uit." 

At  this  moment  the  door  opened,  and  a  servant  came  in  with  a  golden 
tray,  on  which  lay  a  letter. 

"From  her  Majesty,  the  Enjpress,V  said  the  servant,  handinjr  it  to 
Count  Starhemberg.  The  Count  took  the  letlef  and  went  into  the  em- 
brasure of  the  window,  while  the  servant  retired  noislessly. 

"  Countess  Margaret,"  said  Count  Esterhazy,  in  an  imploring  voice, 
"once  more  I  entreat  you  to  accept  me  hs  your  husband." 

She  looked  at  him  with  M'ithering  contempt.  "Have  I  not  told  yon." 
cried  she,  passionately,  "  that  I  do  not  love  you  1  A  man  of  honor 
ceases  to  importune  a  woman  after  such  an  avowal." 

"  A  man  of  spirit  -never,  gives  up;  he  perseveres  in  the  hope  that, 
sooner  or  later,  he  will  reach  his  goal.  No  man  has  the  right  to  expect- 
that  he  will  obtain  a  treasure  without  trouble."  v 

"  Cant !  miserable  cant !"  And  the  great,  glowing  eyes  that  were 
looking  with  such  scorn  at  the  slight  figure  of  the  Count,  encountered 
their  own  image  in  the  glass  before  which  they  both  stood. 

"  Look  !"  cried  she,  pointing  to  the  mirror,  "  yonder  reflection  gives 
its  answer  to  your  suit.  Do  you  see  that  tall  woman,  whose  head  tow- 
ers above  the  blond  mannikin  who  stands  beside  herl  Look  at  her 
black  hair,  her  fiery  eyes  and  resolute  bearing !  And  now  look  at  the  little 
fair-haired  puppet,  who  resembles  a  man  about  as  much  as  do  the  statu- 
ettes on  my  toilet-table.  Ah,  sir  Count,  if  you  were  the  woman  and  I 
the  man,  there  might  be  marriage  between  us  !  But  as  it  is,  you  would 
die  of  my  violence,  or  I  of  your  insipidity.     So,  excuse  me." 

She  made  a  deep  curtsy,  and  turned  to  leave  the  room.  But  she 
felt  a  touch  upon  her  shoulder,  and  looking  back  she  saw  her. uncle  gaz- 
ing at  her  with  a  face  of  great  anxiety. 

"  My  child,"  said  he,  in  a  faltering  voice,  "do  not  send  Count  Ester 
hazy  so  rudely  away.  He  is  rich,  noble  and  distinguished,  and  in  ev- 
ery way  worthy  of  my  lovely  niece.     Do  not  refuse  him,  Margaret." 

"The  Count  has  recovered  from  his  stupid  delusion,  uncle;  I  have 
told  him  how  impossible  it  is  for  me  to  accept  his  hand." 

^  "  But  my  poor  child  you  must  try  to  love  him.     You  dare  not  rejec* 
his  ofier." 

''What!  /dare  not  reject  whom  I  please!"  cried  she,  in  a  voice 
shrill  with  passion. 

"  No,  you  dare  not.  ■  The  Empress  commands  you  to  accept  the  hand 
of  Count  Esterhazy.  Here  is  the  note  |  |)ave  at  this  moment  received 
from  her  Majesty." 


134  iOSEPH  lUK  ."iECOiKU. 

•  .Margarst  tore  the  paper  savagely  from  her  uncle's  hand.  With  star- 
m^  cyf  ^he  reacl  its  contents,  while  her  whole  body  trenabled  violently, 
iiiid  licr  lips  v!cvc  bloody  with  the  eflbrts  she  was  making  to  suppress  a 
scream. 

At  last  she  gave  it  back.  "  Read  It,"  said  she,  hoarsely, "  the  letters 
swim  before  my  eyes." 

The  Count  took  the  note  and  read  : 

"  Dear  Count  Starhembeko  : — It  is  my  desire  that  your  niece,  the 
Countess  Margaret,  shall  become  the  wife  of  some  honorable  man.  In 
this  way  she  may  hope  to  conquer  her  ungovernable  temper,  and  be- 
come a  reasonable  woman.  I  have  heard  that  Count  Esterhazy  intends 
to  become  her  suitor,  and  I  command  her  to  accept  his  hand.  She  has 
led  a  life  of  wild  independence,  and  it  is  time  she  were  tamed  by  the 
cares,  duties  and  responsibilities  of  matrimony.  I  am  both  her  Em- 
press and  god-mother,  and  I  use  my  double  right  for  hei?  good.  The  mar- 
riage shall  take  place  in  one  week,  or  sho  goes  into  a  convent.  That  ia 
my  ultimatum. 

I  remain,  yours  with  sentiments  of  esteem, 

Maui  A  Theresa." 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 
I 

THE    BETROTirAI.. 

A  LON»  pause  ensued  after  the  reading  of  the  letter.  The  Countess 
stood  with  her  eyes  riveted  upon  her  uncle's  face,  as  though  she  were 
waiting  for,  something  more.  The  young  Count  watched  her  furtively, 
but  he  looked  determined. 

"  You  see,  my  child,"  at  last  sighed  the  old  Count,  "  it  is  inevitable. 
The  Empress  must  be  obeyed." 

"  No !  no  !"  screamed  the  wretched  girl,  awaking  from  her  stupor, "  I 
will  not  be  the  wife  of  that  man." 

"  Then  you  will  have  to  go  into  a  convent." 

"  No !"  cried  she,  her  face  suddenly  lighting  up  with  a  flash  of  hope, 
"  no,  I  will  do  neither.     There  is  a  means  of  rescuing  me  from  both." 

She  turned,  with  a  bewitching  smile,  to  Count  Esterhazy,  and  in  a 
voice  whose  softness  was  music  to  his  ear,  she  addressed  him, 

"  In  your  hands  lies  the  power  to  rescue  me  from  a  forced  bridal..  You 
have  heard  that  despotic  note  from  the  Empress.  Match-making  is  a 
monomania  with  Maria  Theresa,  it  is  useless,  therefore,  for  me  to 
appeal  to  her ;  for  on  a  question  of  marriage,  she  is  inexorable.  But  you, 
f'oi^nt  Esterhazv,"  continued  she,  in  tones  of  caressing  melody,  "  yon 


JCMVliKOK  Of   AUSTKlA  i.i^ 

will  rescue  me,  will  you  not?  I  cannot  be  your  wife,  for  I  do  not  love 
you  ;  I  cannot  go  into  a  convent,  for  I  have  no  piety.  Go,  then,  to  tho 
Empress  and  tell  her  that  you  do  not  wish  to  marry  me.  You,  at  least, 
are  free.  Eefuso  to  accept  me  for  your  wife,  and  this  miserable  comedy 
is  at  an  end," 

She  had  clasped  her  little  white  hands  and  was  looking  imploringly  in 
his  face. 

The  young  man  shook  his  head.  "  I  cannot  say  this  to  the  Empress,'* 
said  he,  quietly,  "  for  it  is  she  who  sent  me  hither  to  woe  you." 

"  The  Empress  sent  you  hither !"  cried  the  Countess,  springing  for- 
ward like  a  lioness.  "  You  came  not  to  me  as  a  free  suitor,  but  as  the 
obedient  slave  of  the  Empress!" 

"  Yes,  I  came  at  the  *;ommand  of  the  Empress,"  said  the  young  man, 
mildly. 

The  Countess  burst  into  a  loud  laugh.  "  That,  then,  was  the  glowing 
love  which  you  were  describing  just  now  ;  that,  your  tender  wish  to 
live  for  my  happiness  alone !  Obedient  school-boy  !  You  were  told  to 
come  and  ask  for  my  hand,  and  you  came  for  fear  of  being  whipped  ! — 
Oh,  why  am  I  not  a  man !  By  the  eternal  Lord,  no  woman  should  in- 
flict upon  me  such  contumely  !" 

"  It  is  true,"  said  Count  Esterhazy,  taking  no  note  of  her  words, 
"  that  the  Empress  ordered  me  hither.  But  since  I  have  seen  you,  I 
need  no  prompting  save  that  of  my  own  heart." 

"  Peace,  fool,  nobody  believes  you !  You  had  consented  to  woe  me 
in  obedience  to  your  despotic  Sovereign.  But  you  have  seen  me,  now 
you  know  with  how  much  justice  I  am  called  the  '  The  fierce  Countess,' 
and  now  surely  you  have  manhood  enough  to  reject  a  termagant  like 
me.  Go,  then,  and  tell  the  Empress  that  I  was  willing,  but  you  were 
not " 

"  I  would  not  thus  belie  you,  lovely  Margaret." 

"  What  do  I  care  whether  you  belie  me  or  Jiot,  so  that  (  am  rid  of 
you,"  said  she,  contemptuously. 

"  Submit,  my  dear  child,"  said  the  old  Count,  with  tears  in  his  eye?. 
"'Tis  the  first  time  in  your  life  that  you  have  been  thwarted,  and  there- 
fore, it  is  hard  for  you  to  succumb." 

"I  will  not  submit!"  cried  Margaret,  flinging  back  her  head.  I  will 
NOT  marry  this  man  !  Uncle,  dear  uncle,  leave  me  one  moment  with 
him.     I  have  something  to  say  that  he  alone  must  hear."' 

The  Count  withdrew  at  once  into  another  room, 

"  Now,  sir,  that  we  are  alone,  I  have  a*secret  to  reveal,  to  God  and 
to  yourself.  Swear  by  the  memory  of  your  mother  that  you  will  not  be- 
tray me." 

"  I  swear," 

"  She  bowed  her  head  as  though  .accepting  the  oath.  "  And,  now," 
said  she,  faltering  and  blushing,  "  I  will  tell  you  why  I  can  never  be 

your  wife.     I" she  hesitated  and  her  head  sank  upon  her  bosom, 

wkile  she  stifled  a  sigh.     "  I  loFft  another,"  whi^^ppred  ^•ho.  nlmo'^t  inM- 


Uculalely.  '  Yes—i  iove  anolher,  I  love  him  with  every  throb  of  my 
heart,  with  all  the  strength  of  my  being.  My  every  breath  is  a  praver 
for  him  ;  every  wish,  hope,  and  longing  of  my  soul  points  to  him  alone. 
I  would  die  to  give  him  one  hour  of  joy.  Now,  that  1  have  made  this 
avowal,  you  retract  your  suit,  do  you  not;?  You  will  go  now  to  the 
Empress  and  say  that  you  will  not  aocept  me  for  your  wife.  You  give 
me  my  freedom,  surely  you  give  it  to  me  now  ?" 

Count  Esterhazy  smiled  compassionately.  "This  is  a  fable,  Count- 
ess, which  you  have  invented  to  escape  me.  A  few  moments  ago  you 
said  that  you  would  never  love." 

'^  I  said  that  to  disincline  you  to  marry  me." 

"I  do  not  believe  you,"  said  Esterhazy,  calmly.  "You  have  invent- 
ed this  story  of  your  love  for  that  end ;  but  it  is  a  falsehood,  for  you 
are  as  oold  as  an  icicle." 

"Oh,  I  wish  that  I  were!  For  this  love  is  my  greatest  misfortune. 
Look  s^t  me,  Count.     Does  this  look  like  dissimulation?" 

And  she  raised  up  to  his  view,  a  face  scarlet  with  blushes,  and  eyes 
filled  with  burning  tears. 

"No,  Countess,"  said  Esterhazy,  after  contemplating  her  earnestly, 
"  I.  will  believe  the  tears  that  glisten  in  your  speaking  eyes.  But  now, 
answer  me  one  question.  Your  confidence  gives  me  the  right  to  ask  it. 
Is  your  love  returned  ?" 

She  remained  silent,  as  if  communing  with  herself,  while  every  trace 
of  color  vanished  from  her  cheeks.  , 

*'  No,'*  said  she,  at  last,  with  quivering  lips.  "  No,  he  doe§  not  know 
it ;  and  if  he  did,  he  could  not  offer  me  his  hand." 

"  Then,"  replied  Esterhazy,  coolly,  "  your  love  is  no  impediment  to 
our  marriage.  Cherish  it  if  you  choose;  raise  altars  to  this  unknown 
god,  and  deck  them  with  the  brightest  flowers  of  devotion.  I  will  not 
inquire  the  name  of  your  deity.  Your  secret  is  safe,  even  from  myself, 
f,  ou  the  contrary,  have  never  loved.  My  heart  stands*  with  doors  and 
windows  open,  ready  to,  receive  its  mistress,  and  as  th^  Empress  has  se- 
lected you,  it  waits  joyfully  for  you  to  take  possession." 

The  Countess  laid  her  hand  upon  bis  arm,  and  grasped  it  like  a  vice. 
"  Yo\i  will  not  recede,"  said  she,  hoarsely.  "  You  still  persist  in  desir- 
ing me  tor  your  wife?" 

"  You  have  told  me  that  your  love  is  hopeless,  therefore  is  mine 
hopeful.     Perhaps,  one  day,  it  may  succeed  in  winning  yours." 

"  But  you  do  not  love  me  !"  shrieked  the  maddened  girl.  "  You  are 
here  by  command  of  the  Empress." . 

"  And  the  Esterhazys  have  always  been  the  loyal  servants  of  'the 
Empress.  Whatever  she  commands  they  obey,  were  it  at  the  cbst  of 
life  and  happiness.  Allow  me,  then,  to  persevere  in  my  obedience,  not 
only  to  her  desires,  but  to  my  own.  ,  I  once  more-  solicit  the  honor  of 
your  hand."  • 

"  Woe  to  you,  if  after  this,  I  yield !"  cried  she,  with  threatening  ges- 
ture.    "  I  have  stooped  to  entreat  you,  and  my  prayers  have  been  vain. 


clMFERUK  Uf   AUSTKlA.  |HT 

1  have  withdrawn  the  womanly  veil  that  concealed  m^  heart's  cherished 
secret,  and  you  have  not  renounced  \our  nnnianly  siiii.  I  said  ih;a  I  did 
not  love  you.  Loolc  at  me,  and  hear  luc  while  1  vow  eternal  haired 
should  1  Oe  forced  to  give  you  my  hand  I" 

"There  is  but  one  siepirtMa  hale  to  luve.  Allow  me  to  hope  that 
you  will  think  better  of  it,  and  take  thai  step." 

A  fearful  cry  rang  from  her  lips,  her  eves  glowed  like  burning  coals, 
and  she  raised  her  clenched  hand  as  though  she  had  hoped  it  might  fell 
him  to  the  earth.  But  suddenly  it  !^ank  helpless  to  her  side,  and  she 
looked  long  and  searchingly  into  Count  Esterhazy's  face. 

Along  silence  ei>sued.  "It  is  well,"  said  she,  at  length,  in  clear, 
shrill  tones.  "You  have  challenged  me  to  mortal  combat,  and  it  may 
be  that  you  will  win.  But,  oh!  believe  mewhen  I  tell  yon  that  victory 
will  bring  you  no  glory.  Your  stre"gth  is  not  your  own  ;  it  lies  in  the 
imperial  hand  of  Maria  Theresa.  I  swear  to  you  that  if  I  become  your 
wife,  my  whole  life  shall  be  consecrated  to  hatred  and  revenge.  Count 
Esterhazy,  1  hold  my  word  inviolate,  whether  1  pledge  it  to  friend  or 
foe ;  and  when  the  blight  shall  fall  upon  your  head  that  will  grow  out 
of  this  hour  we  have  spent  together,  remember  that  had  you  been  a 
man  of  honor  you  might,  have  spared  yourself  the  shame  !" 

Without  another  word  she  lifted  her  pr(;ud  head,  and,  with  a  look  of 
withering  scorn,  left  the  room. 

Count  Esterhazy's  eyes  followed  her  retreating  figure  and  his  placid 
brow  grew  troubled.  "  Beautiful  as  she  is."  murmured  he,  ".it  is  dan- 
gerous to  woo  her.  She  has  the  beauty  of  Medusa.  My  heart  positive- 
ly seems  to  petrify  under  her  glance.  I  would  be  more  than  willing  to 
renounce  the  honor  of  wedding  this  beautiful  demon,  but  I  dare  not  re- 
fuse." 

And  he  drew  out  his  delicate,  embroidered  handkerchief  to  vipe  off 
the  big  drops  of  sweat  that  stood  upon  his  forehead. 

"  Well?"  aske3  Count  Starhemberg,  opening  the  door  and  putting 
through  his  head. 

"  Pray  come. in,"  said  Esterhazy,  in  a  piteous  tone. 
"  Ah,  my  niece  has  left !     Weli,  I  suppose  thafe,  as  usual,  she  has  con- 
quered, and  you  release  her?" 

"Not at  all,"  replied  the  unhappy  mannikin,  "I  still  beg  for  the  hon- 
or of  her  hand.     The  Empress  has  spoken  and  I  have  only  to  obey." 


I3S  JOSEPH  XHK  aECOINU 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

FRANZ    ANTONY    MESMER. 

For  some  weeks,  great  excitement  had  existed  iu  Vienna.  In  all  as- 
semblies,  cafes^  h'ouses  and  restcmranfs.  in  the  streets  and  on  the  public 
places,  the  topic  of  converaaiion  had  been  the  wonderful  cures  of  the 
Suabean  physician,  Mesmer.  These  cures  contravened  all  past  expe- 
rience, and  set  at  naught  all  reason.  Mesmer  made  no  use  of  decoction 
or  electuary,  he  prescribed  neither  baths  nor  cataplasms;  he  cured  his 
patients  by  the  power  of  his  hand  and  the  glance  of  his  large,  dark  eye. 
He  breathed  upon  their  foreheads,  and  forthwith  they  saw  visions  of  far 
off  lands ;  he  passed  the  tips  of  his  fingers  over  their  faces,  and  pain 
and  suffering  vanished  at  his  touch.  No  wonder  that  physicians  de- 
nounced him  as  a  charlatan,  and  apothecaries  reviled  him  as  an  impos- 
ter. 

No  wonder  that  the  populace,  so  prone  to  believe  the  marvellous,  had 
jfaith  in  Mesmer,  and  reverenced  him  as  a  saint.  Why  should  he  not 
perform  miracles  with  his  hand,  as  did  Moses  with  a  rod,  when  he  struck 
the  rock  1  Why  should  not  the  power  of  his  eye  master  disease,  as 
once  the  glance  of  the  Apostles  gave  speech  to  the  dumb  and  awakened 
life  in  the  dead  ? 

Mesmer,  too,  was  an  apostle — the  apostle  of  a  new  faith.  He  bade 
suffering  humanity  turn  to  heaven  for  relief  'The  reflection  from  the  plan- 
ets', said  he,  '  and  the  rays  of  the  sun,  exercised  over  the  human  system, 
a  magnetic  power.  The  great  remedy  for  disease  lay  in  this'  magnetic 
power,  which  resides  in  iron  and  steel,  and  which  has  its  highest  and 
most  mysterious  development  iu  man.' 

The  people  believed;  and  sought  his  healing  hand.  Remastered 
their  infirmities,  and  soothed  their  sufferings.  But  the  more  the  world 
honored  and  trusted  him,  the  more  bitter  grew  the  hatred  of  the  faculty. 
Each  day  brought  him  fresh  blessings  and  fresh  imprecations.  The 
physicians,  who  in  Salzburg,  had  hurled  Paracelsus  from  a  rock,  dared  not 
attempt  the  life  of  Mesmer;  but  they  persecuted  him  as  an  imposter, 
and  proved,  by  learned  and  scientific  deduction,  that  his  system  was  a 
lying  absurdity. 

Those,  who  affected  strength  of  mind,  and  refused  to  believe  anything 
except  that  which  could  be  demonstrated  by  process  of  reasoning,  gave 
in  their  adherence  to  the  indignant  physicians.  Those,  on  the  contrary, 
who  had  faith  in  the  mysteries  of  religion,  were  disciples  of  Mesmer; 
and  they  reverenced  him  as  a  prophet,  sent  Aom  heaven,  -to  prove  the 
fiupremacy  of  nature  over  knowledge. 


KMl'KJiUll  or  AUSTKIA  I, '^,9 

Mesmer's  fame  had  reached  the  Court,  and  the  Empress,  herself,  be- 
oame  interested  in  his  extraori'inary  achievements.  In  vain  Van  Swie- 
ten  and  Stork  besought  her  to  silence  the  audacious  quack,  who  was 
ruining  a  great  profession.  She  shook  her  head,  and  would  have  noth- 
ing to  do  with  the  feud. 

"  I  shall  wait  and  see,"  said  she.  His  system  is  harmless,  and  I  shall 
not  fetter  him.  One  thing  is  certajn.  His  manipulations  will  never 
poison  anybody,  as  many  a  regular  physician's  prescription  has  done, 
and  he  shall  not  be  molested.  He  has  voluntarily  sought  an  ordeal 
which  will  determine  his  position  before  the  world.  If  he  cures  the 
blindness  of  my  little  protege,  Therese,  1  shall  give  in  my  adherence 
with  the  rest;  for  he  who  restores  the  blind  to  sight,  holds  his  skill 
from  above." 

This  young  girl  was  known  to  all  Vienna.  In  her  second  year,  after 
an  attack  of  suppressed  measles,  she  had  become  blind,  and  all  attempts 
to  restore  her  sight,  had  proved  unavailing.  But  if  sight  had  been  de- 
nied to  her  eyes,  her  soul  was  lit  up  by  the  inspiration  of  art.  When 
Therese  sat  before  the  harpsichord  and  her  dexterous  fingers  wandered 
over  its  keys — when,  with  undisturbed  serenity,  she  executed  the  most 
difficult  music  that  could  be  written  for  the  instrument,  no  one  who  saw 
her  beautiful  eyes  could  have  surmised  their  inutility.  Her  features 
were  expressive,  and  those  sightless  eyes,  seemed  at  times,  to  brighten 
with  joy,  or  to  grow  dim  with  sorrow.  Nevertheless,  Thorese  Von 
Paradies  was  wholly  blind  ;  her  eyes  were  merely  the  portals  of  her 
soul — they  sent  forth  light,  but  received  none  in  return. 


CHAPTER  XXXV  f. 

THERESE    VON    PARADIES. 

Therese  Von  Paradies  was  in  her  room  ;  her  mother  stood  near,  for 
with  the  assistance  of  a  maid,  she  had  just  completed  her  daughter's 
toilet.  Therese  was  elegantly  dressed,  and  she  seemed  to  enjoy  her 
splendor  although  she  was  not  permitted  to  see  it. 

"  Say,  mother,"  said  she,  as  the  last  touch  had  been  given  to  her 
dress,  "  of  what  material  is  my  gown  ?  It  feels  as  soft  as  a  young  girl's 
cheek." 

"  It  is  satin,  my  child." 

"  Satin  ?     And  the  color  ?" 

"  White." 

"  White !"  repeated  she,  softly.    *'  The  color  without  «^l"r.    How 


\4v  JOSKPh    iliE  bh-(JUMJ 

strange  that  must  be.     1  shudder  when  1  tbhik  that  1  shall  see  it  before 
long." 

'•  Why  should   you  shudder'?"   said    her  mother,   tenderly.     "You 
■  should  rejiMce,  dear  child,  that  the  world,  with  ail  its  beauties,  is  about 
to  i;)econie  kuown  to  }ou." 

"  I  do  not  know,"  replied  Therese,  thoughtfully.  "  I  shall  enter  upon 
a  new  world  which  will  astonish,  and  perchance,  affright  me  by  its 
strangeness.  Now  I  know  you  all  in  my  heart,  but  when  I  see  you,  I 
shall  no  longer  recognize  you.  Oh,  mother,  why  do  you  wish  me  to  he 
restored  to  sight?     1  am  very  happy  as  1  am."  ^     ■ 

"Silly  child,  you  will  be  still  happier  when  you  see.  ■  It  ig  absurd  for 
you  to  dread  an  event  which  will  add  a  hundred-fold  to  your  enjoyment 
of  life." 

.  "  And  why  absurd,  dear  mother  1  Does  not  the  heart  of  the  bride, 
on  her  wedding  day,  teat  half  in  hope  and  halY  in  fear?  .  And  is  not 
her  soul  filled  with  sweet  apprehension?  1  am  a  bride— the  bride  of 
light,  and  I  await  my  lover  to  day." 

"  Ah,  who  knows  if  light  will  come,"  sighed  the  mother. 

*'  It  will  come,  mother,"  said  Therese,  confidently.  "I  felt- it  yester- 
day, when,  for  a  moment,  Mesraer  removed  the  bandage  from  my  eyes. 
It  was  for  a  second,  but  I  saio,  and  what  1  saw  cut  like  a  sharp  sword 
athwart  my  eyes,  and  1  fell,  almost  unconscious." 

"That  was  a  ray  of  light — the  first*  glance  of  your  biidegroom  !" 
cried  the  mother,  joyfully. 

"  Then  1  fear  that  I  shall  never  be  able  to  bear  his  presence,"  replied 
Therese,  sadly.  "  But  tell  me,  mother,  am  1  dressed  as  becomes  a 
bride  r 

"Yes,  Therese,  you  are  beautifully  dressed,  for  to-day  we  receive  a 
throng  of  distinguished  guests.  Even  the  Empress  has  sent  one  <jf  her 
lords  in  waiting,  to  bear  her  the  tidings  of  your  restoration  to  sight. — 
The  two  great  doctors.  Van  Swieten  and  Stork,  will  be"  here  to  see  the 
marvel ;  and  princes  and  princesses,  lords  and  ladies,  ministers  and 
generals,  will  be  aroUnd  you." 

"  How  is  my  hair  dressed  ?"  . 

'■  It  is  dressed  as  you  like  it,  d  la  Matignon.  Pepi  has  built  a  tower 
upon  your  head  at  least  three  quarters  of  an  ell  high,  and  above  that  is  a 
blue  rosette,  with  long  ends." 

"  It  is  indeed  very  high,"  replied  Therese,  laughing,  "  for  I  cannot 
reach  it  with  my  hands.  But  I  have  another  question  to  ask,  dear 
mother.     Promise  me  that  it  shall  be  frankly  ansWered." 

"  I  promise." 

"  Well,  then,  tell  me,  is  my  appearance  pleasing?  Hitherto  every 
one  has  been  kind  to  me  because  of  my  misfortune  ;  but  when  I  stand 
upon  equal  footing  with  other  women,  do  you  think  •  that  1  am  pretty 
enough  to  give  pleasure  to  my  friends  ?" 

"  Yes,  my  dear,  you  are  very  handsome,"  said  tlie  mother,  smiling 
lovingly  at  her  child's  simplicity.     "Your  figvire  is  graceful,  yo.ur  fice 


KMI'EROa  OP  AUSTRIA  I4l 

is  oval,  your  featui;e3  are  regular,  and  your  brow  is  high  unci  thoujcrhtfnl. 

Wlitiu   the  ligllt  of  cl.i;,'  «tl;iij     be    itllcct'd    fi-jill'    .\uur    i.iige,  dui  k  c-j  «• -, 
yoii  will  he  a  bt-autitul   te-oniuii,  ruy  duii2;hter." 

•'Thank  you,  denr  moiher,  those  are  plea-sant  tidings,''  said  Tb«rtjse, 
kissing  her. 

"  1  must  leave  you,  dearest,"  said  her  mother,  softly,  disengaging 
herself  from  Therese's  arms  ;  •'  I  have  my  own  toilet  to  make,  and  some 
preparations  for  our  guests.     I  will  send  the  maid." 

"  No,  deiir  mother,  send  no  one.  I  need  silence  and  solitude.  I.  tdo, 
have  preparations  to  make  fur  the  heavenly  gue«iL  that  visit.s  me  tu-day. 
I  must  strengthen  my  soul  by  prayer." 

She  accompanied  her  mother  to  the  door,  kissed  her  again  and  return- 
ing seated  herself  at  the  harpsichord.  And  now  from  its  keys  came 
forth  sounds  of  mirth  and  melancholy,  of  love  and  com|)liiinf,  of  pruyeis 
and  tears.  At  one  time  she  en  tuned  a  hymn  of  joy,  then  came  steal- 
ing over  the  air  a  melody  that  brought  tears  to  the  eyes  of  the  mu>i- 
cian  ;  then    it   changed  and  swelled  into  a  torrent  of  gushing  harmony. 

Suddenly  she  paused,  a  tremor  ran  through  her  frame,  and  a  blush 
slowly  mantled  her  cheek.  Her  hands  fell,  and  her  bosom  heaved.  As 
if  drawn  by  some  invisible  power,  she  rose  from  hei  instrument  and 
went  towards  the  door.  In  the  centre  of  the  room  she  stopped  and 
pressed  her  hands  upon  her  heart. 

"  He  comes,"  murmured  she,  with  a  sraile  of  ecstasy,  "he  mounts 
the  staircase,  now  he  is  in  the  corridor,  his  hand  is  upon  the  door." 

Yes,  the  door  opened  so  softly  that  the  acutest  ear  could  not  l^ave  de- 
tected a  sound.  But  Therese  felt  it.  and  she  would  have  gone  forward, 
but  her  feet  w'ere  paralysed,  and  she  remained  with  outstretched  arms. 
With  her  heart  she  had  seen  him  who  now  appeared  upon  the'threshojd. 
The  person,  whose  coming  had  so  agitated  the  young  girl,  was  a  man. of 
scarcely  forty  years,  of  a  lofty,  imposing  carriage,  and  of  prepossessing 
features.  His  large,  blue  eyes,  rested  upon  Therege  with  a  glance  of 
power,  which  thrilled  through  every  fibre  of  her  being.  FIc  held  out 
'  his  right  arm  towards  her;  then  slowly  lowering  it,  he  pointed  to  the 
floor,  Therese  followed  its  motion  and  sank  on  her  knees.  A  trium- 
phant  smile  beamed  over  Mesmer's  face,  and  he  raised  his  hand  again. 
The  girl  arose,  and  as  though  she  had  seen  him  open  his  arms,  she 
darted  forward  and  laid  her  head  upon  his  breast. 

"Mesmer,  my  friend,  my  physician,"  whispered  she,  softly. 
'"Yes,  it  is  1,"  replied    Mesmer,  in  a  rich,  melodious  voice.     "Your 
heart  has  seen  me,  your  eyes  shall  see  me,  too,  my  child." 

He  led  her  to  a  sofa  and  seated  her  gently  beside  him.  Then  pass- 
ing hiij  outstretched  hand  before  her,  she  trembled. 

"You  are  very  much  excited  to-day,  Therese,"  said  he,  with  a  slight 
tone  of  disapprobation. 

"  I  am  excited  because  you  are  so.  dear  friend,"  said  the  blipd  gi'I. — 
"  Your  eyes  dart  beams  that  threaten  to  consume  the  world." 

'*A  world  of  ignorance  and  of  wickedness,"  said  he,  in  reply.  "Yes, 


142  JUaEI'H  Tflfi  SECOND,! 

Tlierese,  I  will  consume  it  to-day.  and  in  its  stead  shall  arise  a  super- 
natural world;  yet  one  "to  which  banished  nature  shall  return  and  claim 
her  rights  to  man.  Oh,  will  I  have  strength  to  say, '  Let  there  be  light!'  " 

— "  Dear  ifriend,  if  you  doubt  of  the  result,  do  not  expose  yourself  to 
the  humiliation  of  failure.  I  am  satisfied  with  my  blindness,  for  I  have 
a  world  of  light  in  my  heart." 

"  No  !"  cried  Mesmer,  with  energy,  "  the  work  is  begun,  it  must  be 
completed.  You  7nust  see  Therese,  or  all  for  which  I  have  striven  will 
recoil  upon  my  head,  and  bury  me  beneath  its  ruins.  This  day  decides 
not  only  your  fate,  poor  child,  but  mine.  To-day  must  Mesmer  prove 
to  the  world  that  the  animal  magnetism,  which  physicians  deride  as 
quackery,  savans  deny  as  impracticable,  and  the  people  ignorantjy  wor- 
ship as  sorcery,  is  a  golden  link  which  binds  humanity  to  heaven.  To- 
day you  shall  be  healed  by  the  magnetic  power  which  binds  you  to  me, 
and  links  us  both  to  God." 

"  Heal  me,  then,  dear  master  P'  cried  the  girl,  inspired  by  his  enthusi- 
asm ;  "  restore  me  to  sight,  and  in  so  doing  give  light  to  those  who  can- 
not see  your  God-like  gift." 

He  laid  his  hand  upon  her  shoulder,  and  gazed  earnestly  in  her  face. 
"  You  have  faith  in  me  then,  Therese,  have  you  not  ?" 

"  I  believe  in  you  and  I  comprehend  you,  master.  I  know  Jhat  I  shall 
see ;  and  when  the  scales  fall  from  my  eyes,  the  light  of  conviction  will 
dawn  for  others.  They  will  then  comprehend  that  there  is  a  power  in 
Nature  stronger  than  the  craft  of  bare  human  wisdom." 

"  Oh,  you  speak  my  very  thoughts,  dear  Therese,"  said  Mesmer,  ten- 
derly. "  You  see  into  my  mind,  and  its  perceptions  find  birth  upon 
your  lips.  Let  doctors  sneei",  and  learned  skeptics  disbelieve,  but  the 
day  will  come  when  all  must  acknowledge  that  magnetism  is  truth,  and 
all  human  wisdom,  lies.  Physicians,  though,  will  be  its  deadliest  ene- 
mies, for  they  are  travellers,  who  having  strayed  from  the  right  path,  go_ 
farther  and  farther  from  tiruth,  because  they  will  not  "retrace  their 
steps."* 

"  But  you  will  show  them  the  path,  ray  toaster,  and  the  world  will 
honor  you  above  other  men." 

"  If  ingratitude  do  not  blind  it  to  truth.  It  is  hard  to  find  day-light 
in  the  labyrinth  of  established  faith.  I,  too,  have  wandered  in  this  laby- 
rinth, but  in  all  my  divarications,  I  sought  for  truth.  With  passionate 
longing,  I  called  her  to  my  help  Far  removed  from  the  hum  of  hu 
man  imbecility,  down  among  the  solitudes  of  untrodden  forests,  I  sought 
her.  Here  I  was  face  to  face  with  Nature,  and  listened  for  response  to 
the  anxious  questionings  of  my  restless  heart.  It  was  well  for  me  that 
the  trees  were  the  only  witnesses  of  my  agitation,  for  my  fellow-meo, 
had  they  met,  would  have  chained  me  as  a  madman." 

"  Not  I,  master.     I  would  have  understood  your  noble  strife." 

Mesmer  pressed  her  hand  and  went  on  :  "  Every  occupation  became 
distasteful  to  me,  every  moment  dedicated  to  aught  else  seemed  to  be 

♦  MB«m«r»  owfi  words.   SVe  Ffnns  Anton  Mesmer,  of  Buabi«,  b'y  Vt,  JttBtiliuS  Kenwr,  p»g«  68. 


8MPEKOR  OF  AUSTRIA,  143 

treason  to  truth.  I  regretted  the  time  which  it  cost  nie  to  translate  my 
thoughts  into  words,  an  J  1  formed  the  singular  resolution  o^  keeping  si- 
lence. For  three  months  I  rellected  without  speaking  >\  word.  At  the 
end  of  this  time  a  new  faculty  unfolded  itself  in  my  mind,  and  I  bfegan 
to  see  with  rapture  that  the  day  of  truth  had  dawned.  I  knew  that 
henceforth  my  life  would  be  one  long  struggle  against  preconceived  er- 
I'or;  but  this  did  not  affright  me.  So  much  the  more  did  I  feel  the  ob 
ligation  resting  upon  me  to  impart  to  m_\  fellow  beings  the  gifts  I  had 
received*.  I  have  suffered  much  from  their  prejudices,  but  most  from 
the  sneers  of  envious  physicians,  who  sooner  than  receive  a  light  fr.tm 
other. hands,  would  stumble  in  the  night  of  their  ignorance  forever.* 
But  my  day  of  triumph  is  here.  You,  Thirese,  are  the  Evangeli>t  of 
ray  new  Faith,  and  your  restored  vision  shall  announce  it  to  the  world  !" 

"  It  shall,  dear  master,  it  shall ;  and  again.'it  their  will  these  infidels 
shall  believe.  They  will  see  that  we  have  all,  been  blind  together — all 
but  yon,  who,  questioning  in  faith,  have  received  your  au'^wer  from  on 
high.  Take  the  bandage  from  .my  eyes  and  let  me  see  the  light  of  day  ! 
I  tremble  no  longer  with  apprehension  of  its  splendor!" 

Mesmer  held  her  back  as  she  raised  her  hands  to  her  head.  "  Not 
yet,  Therese.  Your  bandage  must  be  removed  in  the  presence  of  my 
enemies." 

"■  Whom  do  you  expect,  master  V 

"  I  have  told  you. — I  expect  my  enemies.  Professor  Barth  will  be 
there  to  sneer  at  the  charlatan  who,  by  an  invisible  power,  has  healed 
the  malady  which  his  couching  knife  would  have  sought  in  vain  to  re- 
move. Doctor  Ingenhaua,  my  bitter  rival,  will  be  there,  to  find  out  by 
what  infernal  magic  the  charlatan  has  cured  hundreds  of  patients  pro- 
nounced  by  him  incurable  ;  Father  Hell  will  be  there,  to  see  if  the  pre- 
sence of  a  great  astronomer  will  not  affright  the  charlatan.  Oh,  yes  ! — 
And  others  will  be  there — none  seeking  knowledge,  but  all  hoping  to 
see  me  discorafitted." 

"  Do  not  call  yourself  so  of^eu  by  that  un worthy  ;iame,"  said  Therese 
sorrowfully. 

"  Men  call  me  so;  I  may  as  well  accept  the  title." 

"  Perhaps  they  have  called  you  so  in  days  gone  by ;  but  from  this 
day  they  will  call  you  '  Master,'  and  will  crave  your  pardon  for  the  ob- 
loquy they  have  heaped  upon  your  noble  head." 

"  How  little  you  know  of  the  woHd,  Therese  !  It  never  pardons  those 
who  convict  it  of  error,-  and  above  all  other  hatred  is  the  hatred  that 
mankind  feel  for  their  benefactors." 

Gracious  heaven,  master,  if  this  is  the  world  which  is  to  open  to  my 
view,  in  mercy  leave  me  to  ray  blindness !" 

She  stopped  suddenly,  and  sank  back  upon  the  cushion  of  the  softC. 
Mesmer  raised  his  hands  and  passed  them  before  her  forehead. 

*'  You  are  too  much  excited.     Sleep  !" 

"  No,  DO,  I  do  not  wish  to  sleep,"  murmured  she.  _ 

*  Thft  Wh(fle  •'onyemVon  is  in  Mesmcr'i  wortTe,   8e»  Jhstlnus  K«mor,  r«C^  *^- 


144  JUiSEPH  TUK  SECOND} 

''I  command  you  to  sleep,"  repeated  Mesnjpr.. 

in.  M:.-e  ii(-aveci  a  sigh  ;  hei  head  fell  taither  back,  and  her  audible, 
re^uiai  Luiiatliiii'^  soon  proved  that  sleep  had  cume  at  the  bidding  of  her 
ma^'jer. 

xMesnier  bent  over  her,  and  b<  gan  his  manipulations.  He  approach- 
ed her  lips,  and  opening  her  mouth,  breathed  into  it.  She  smiled  a  hap- 
py sniile.  He  then  raised  his  hands  and  touching  the  crown  of  her 
head  de-crihed  half-circles  in  I  he  air:  tlien  stooping  over  her,  he  again 
inhaled  her  breath,  au'^- breathed  his  own  into  her  mouth. 

Tlie  door  opened  and  the  mother  of  Therese  came  in. 

"  The  guests  are  here,"  said  she. 

Mesinei  inclined  his  head.     "  We  are  ready." 

"  Ready,  and  Therese  sleeps  so  soundly  !" 

"  I  will  awake  her  when  it  is  time.     Where  is  my  Harmon  icon  1" 

"  In  the  parlor  where  you  ordered  it  to  be  placed." 

"  Let  us  go,  then,  and  from  thence  we  will  call  Therese." 


CHAPTER  XXXVll. 

•  >         THE  FIRS*  DAY  OF  LIGHT. 

The  elite  of  Vienna  were  assembled  in  the  drawing-room  of  Hen:  Von 
Paradies.  The  ari^itocratic,  the  scientific  and  the  artistic  world  were 
rej)reseiited ;.  and  the  Empress,  as  befure  intimated,  had  sent  her  mes- 
senger to  take  notes  of  the  extraordinary  experiment  which  was  that 
day  to  be  tried  upon  the  person  of  her  young  pensioner.  At  the  request 
of  Mesiner  some  of  the  lower  classes  were  there  also,  for  it  was  his  de- 
sire that  the  cottage  as  well  as  the  palace  should  bear  testimony  to  the 
triumph  of  animal  magnetism  over  the  prejudices  of  conventional  sci- 
ence. 

By  order  of  Mesmer,  the  room  had  been  darkened,  and  heavy  grean 
curtains  hung  before  every  window.  Seats  were  arranged  around  the 
roorti,  in^^he  centre  of  which  was  a  space  occupied  by  a  couch,  some  chairs, 
and  a  table  on  which  lay  a  box. 

Upon  this  box  the  eyes  of  the  spectators  were  riveted,  and  Professor 
Barth  himself,  in  spite  of  his  arrogant  bearing,  felt  quite  as  much  curio- 
sity as  his  neighbors,  to  see  its  contents. 

"You  will  see,  Herr  Kollege,"  said  he  to  one  who  sat  beside  him, 
"  you  will  see  that  he  merely  wishes  to  collect  this  brilliant  assemblage 
in  Older  to  perform  an  operation  in  their  presence,  and  so  make  a  name 
for  himself.    This  box  of  course  contains  the  instruments.     Wait  and 


watch  for  the  laucet  that  is  sure  to  m^ke  its  appearance  first  ,^r  last." 

"What  will  be  the  use  of  his  lancet,"  replied  Herr  Kollege,  "when 
there  is  nothing  upon  which  it  can  operate?  J'he  girl  is  irretrievably 
blind,  for  neither  knife  nor  lancet  can  restore  life  to  the  deadened  opti- 
cal nerve." 

"  If  he  attempts  to  use  the  lancet  in  my  presence,"  said  the  Professor 
in  a  threatening  tone,  "J  will  prevent  him.  1  shall  watch  him  closely, 
and  woe  to  the  importer  if  I  surprise  him  at  a  trick  !" 

"The  box  does  not  contain  surgical  instruments,"  whispered  the  As- 
tronomer, Hell.     "I  know  what  he  has  in  there." 

"  What  ?"  asked  the  others  eagfirly. 

"A  planet,  my  friends.  Youknovr  ho  ii?  given  to  meddling  with- 
planets.  I  hope  it  is  oncunknown  to  science,  for  if  he  has  carried  ofTany 
ofmij  stars,  I  shall  have  him  arrested  for  robbery." 

This  sally  caused  much  laughter,  which  was  interrupted  by  the  en- 
trance of  Mesmer  with  Frau  "Von  Paradies.  Without  seeming  to  ob- 
serve the  spectators  who  now  thronged  ihe  room,  Mesmer  advanced  to 
the  table  where  lay  the  box.  His  face  was  pale,  but  perfectly  resolute, 
and  as  his  eyes  were  raised  to  meet  those  of  the  guests,  each  one  felt 
that  whatever  might  be  the  result,  in  the  soul  of  the  operator  there  was 
neither  doubt  nor  fear. 

Mesmer  opened  the  box.  A  breathless  silence  greeted  this  act.  Every 
whisper  was  hushed,  every  straining  glance  was  fixed  upon  that  mysteri- 
ous coffer.  He  seated  himself  before  it,  and  Professor  Barthe  whispered, 
"  Now  he  is  about  to  take  out  his  instruments." 

But  he  was  interrupted  by  the  sound  of  music — music  so  exquisite 
that  the  heart  of  the  learned  Professor  himself  responded  to  its  pathos. 
It  swelled  and  swelled  until  it  penetrated  the  room  and  filled  all  space 
with  its  thrilling  notes.  All  present  felt  its  power,  and  every  eye  was 
fixed  upon  the  enchanter,  who  was  swaying  a  multitude  as  though  their 
emotions  had  been  his  slaves,  and  his  music  the  voice  that  bade  them 
live  or  die ! 
J  "  Ah !"  whispered  the  Astronomer,  "  you  made  a  mistake  of  a  part  of 
speech.     The  man  has  not  instrtiments,  but  an  instrument." 

"  True,"  replied  the  Professor,  "  and  your  planet  turns  out  to  be  an 
insignificant  harmonicon." 

"  And  the  lancet,"  added  Ingerhaus,  "  is  a  cork,  with  a  -whalebone 
handle." 

Mesmer  played  on,  and  now  his  music  seemed  an  entreaty  to  some 
invisible  spirtt  to  appear  and  reveal  itself  to  mortal  eyes.  At  least,  so 
it  seemed  to  his  listeners.  They  started — for  responsive  to  the  call,  a 
tall  white  figure,  whose  feet  seemed  scarcely  to  touch  the  floor,  glided 
in  and  stood  for  a  moment  irresolute.  Mesmer  raised  his  hand  and 
stretching  it  out  towards  her,  she  moved.  Still  he  played  on,  and  near- 
er and  nearer  she  came,  while  the  music  grew  louder  and  more  irresist- 
ible in  its  pleadings. 

A  movement  was  perceptible  among  the  spectators.     Several  ladies 

10 


[45  JOSEPH  ttfK  SISCOND, 

had  faiffted  ;  their  nerves  had  gi^ffeti  way  before  the  might  of  that  won- 
derful music*  But  no  one  felt  disposed  to  move  to  assist  them,,for  all 
were  absorbed  by  the  spell,  and  each  one  gazed  in  speechless  expecta- 
tion upon  Mesmer  and  Thcrese. 

He  still  played  on,  but  he  threw  up  his  head,  and  his  large  eyes  were 
directed  towards  his  patient  with  a  look  of  authority.  She  felt  the 
glance  and  trembled.  Then  she  hastened  her  steps,  and  smilingly  ad- 
vanced until  she  stood  close  beside  the  table.  He  pointed  to  the  couch, 
and  she  immediately  turned  towards  it  and  sat  down. 

"  This  is  well  gotten  up,"  said  Professor  Barthe.  "  The  scene  must 
have  been  rehearsed  more  than  once." 

"  If  the  blind  are  to  be  restored  to  sight  by  harraonicons,"  whisper- 
ed Doctor  Ingenhaus,  "  I  shall  throw  my  books  to  the  winds  and  be- 
come an  itinerant  musician." 

"If  planets  are  to  be  brought  down  by  a  wave  of  the  hand,"  said 
Hell,  "  I  will  break  all  my  telescopes,  and  offer  my  services  to  Mesmer 
as  an  amanuensis." 

The  harmonicon  ceased,  and  the  censorious  professors  too,  were  for- 
ced to  cease  their  cavilling. 

Mesmer  arose,  and  approaching  Therese,  made  a  few  passes  above  her 
head. 

"  My  eyes  burn  as  if  they  were  pierced  with  red-hot  daggers,"  said 
she,  with  an  expression  of  great  suffering. 

He  now  directed  the  tips  of  his  fingers  towards  her  eyes,  and  touched 
the  bandage. 

"  Remove  the  bandage  and  see !"  cried  he  in  a  loud  voice. 

Therese  tore  it  off,  and  pale  as  death,  she  gazed  with  wonder  at  the 
'Master,'  who  stood  directly  in  front  of  her.  Pointing  to  him,  she  said 
with  an  expression  of  fear  and  disb'ke, 

"  Is  that  a  man  which  stands  before  me  ^"f 

Mesmer  bowed  his  head.  Therese  started  back,  exclaiming,  "  It  is 
fearful!     But  where  is  Mesmer?     Show  me  Mesmer !"  .      '^'      '" 

"I  am  he,"  said  Mesmer,  approaching  her.  ^' 

She  drew  back  aud  looked  at  him  with  a  scrutinizing  expression.  "I 
had  supposed  that  the  human  fdce  was  radient  with  joy,"  said  she,  "  but 
this  one  looks  like  incarnate  woe.  Are  all  mankind  sad?  Where  is 
my  mother?" 

Frau  Von  Paradies  was  awaiting  her  daughter's  call ;  she  now  came 
forward,  her  face  beaming  with  love  and  joy.  But  Therese,  instead  of 
meeting  here  with  equal  fervor,  shrank,  aud  covered  her  face  with  her 
hands. 

"Therese,  my  daughter,  look  upon  me,"  said  the  mother. 

"  ft  is  her  voice,"  cried  Therese,  joyfully,  removing  her  hands.  Frau 
Von  Paradies  stood  by,  smiling. 

♦  It  freqoenOy  happened  that  not  only  women,  but  men  also,  fainted)  when  Mesmer  played  oa 
the  Glass-Harmonicou.    Justinas  Kerner,  page  48. 

^  Thcrofc's  own  words.    Just;nu»  Kerutr,    P.  C3, 


KMFEKUK  UK   atlSTKlA  "     J 47 

"  Is  this  ray  mother  ?"  continued  she,  looking  up  into  her  face.  "  Yes 
— it  must  be  so;  those  tearful  eyes  are  full  of  love.  Oh  mother,  c6me 
nearer,  and  let  me  look  into  those  loving  eyes !" 

Her  mother  leaned  over  her,  but  again  Thcrese  recoiled,  "What  a 
frightful  thing!"  said  she  with  a  look  of  fear. 

"  What  Therese '?     What  is  frightful  V  asked  her  mother. 

"  Look  at  your  mother,  Therese,''  said  Mesmer.  She  heard  the  welf- 
beloved  voice,  and  her  hands  fell  from  her  eyes. 

"Now  tell  me,  what  disturbs  you,"  said  Frau  Von  Paradies.  ' 

Therese  raised  her  hand  and  pointed  to  her  mother's  nose.  "  It  ig 
that,"  said  she.     "  What  is  it  ?"  '         * 

"  It  is  my  nose  !"  exclaimed  her  mother,  laughing,  and  her  lau^h  was 
echoed  throughout  the  room. 

"  This  nose  on  the  human  Yace  is  horrible,"  said  Therese.  "  It  threat- 
ens me  as  though  it  would  stab  my  eyes.'** 

"I  will  show  you  the  figure  of  a  man  who  threatens,"  said  Mesmer 
assuming  an  angry  air,  clinching  his  fists,  and  advancing  a  few  paces. 

Therese  fell  upon  her  knees  with  a  cry.  "  You  will  kill  me  !"  ex- 
claimed she,  cowering  to  the  floor. 

The  Spectators  were  thunderstruck.  Even  Professor  Barthe  yielded 
to  the  overwhelming  evidence  of  his  senses. 

"  By  heaven,  it  is  no  deception  !"  exclaimed  he.     "  She  sees !" 

"  Since  Professor*  Barthe  is  convinced,  no  one  will  dare  dispute  the 
fact,"  observed  Mesmer,  loud  enough  to  be  overheard  by  the  Professor. 

Parthe  frowned,  and  pretended  not  to  hear.     He  already  repented  of 
what  he  had  said,  and  would  have  bought  back  his  own  words  with  a 
rtandful  of  ducats.     But   it   was   too   late.     Every  one  had  heard  him 
»nd  on  every  side  murmurs  of  astonishment  and  of  admiration  grew 
into  distinct  applause. 

Meanwhile,  Therese  was  greeting  her  father  and  her  other  relatives. 
But  she,  who  had  always  been  so  alfectiotiate,  was  now  embarrassed  and 

30ld. 

"  I  knew  it,"  said  she,  sadly.  "  I  knew  that  the  gift  of  sight  would 
not  increase  my  happiness.'  Imagination  had  drawn  your  imac^es  and  I 
loved  the  pictures  she  had  painted.  But  now  that  I  see  you  with  the 
eyes  of  flesh,  my  heart  recoils  from  participation  in  the  sad  secrets 
which  your  care-worn  faces  reveal.  Ah,  I  believe  that  love,  in  its  hiwh- 
est  sense,  is  known  to  the  blind  alone  !  But  where  is  Bello  ?  Let  me 
see  my^  dog,  the  faithful  companion  of  my  days  of  dependence." 

Bello  had  been  whining  at  the  door,  and  as  Fran  Von  Paradies  open- 
ed it,  he  bounded  to  his  mistress,  caressing  her  with  his  paws,  and  lick- 
ing her  hands.' 

Therese  bent  over  him,  and  the  dog  raised  •  his  eyes  to  hers.  She 
stroked  his  glossy,  black  coat,  and,  foV  the  first  time  since  she  had  re- 
covered her  sight,  she  smiled, 

"  This  dog  is  more  pleasing  to  mo  than  man,"  said  she,  communing 

■  •  These  arc  the  einct  words  of  Thereto,    Judiiius  Kpinrr,  page  «?. 


148  JOSEPH  THE  SECOND. 

-with  herself.  "  There  is  truth  in  his  eyes,  and  his  face  does  not  terrify 
me,  like  those  of  my  own  race."*  -> 

"  I  think  we  may  take  our  leave,"  growled  Professor  Barthe,  "  the 
comedy  is  over,  and  the  relations  and  friends  can  applaud  the  author 
and  the  actress.     I  don't  feel  it  my  duty  to  remain  for  that  purpose." 

"Nor  1,"  added  .IX')Ctor  [ngenhaus,  as  he  prepared  to  accompany  the 
Professor.  '•  My  head  is  in  a  whirl  with  the  antics  of  this  devilish  doc- 
tor.". 

"  Take  me  with  you,"  said  father  Hell,  *'  I  must  go  and  look  after 
my  planets.     I'm  afraid  we  shall  miss  another  Pleiad." 

jSo  saying,  the  repreisentatives  of  science  took  their  leave.  At  •  the 
door  they  met  with  Count  Von  Langermann,  the  messenger  of  the  Em- 
press. 

"  Ah,  gentlemen,"  said  he,  "  you  are  hastening  from  this  enchanted 
spot  to  announce  its  wonders  to  the  world.  No  one  will  venture  to 
doubt  when  such  learned  professors  have  seen  and  believed.  I,  myself, 
am  on  miy  way  to  apprise  the  Empress  of  Mesmer's  success." 

"  Pray  inform  the  Empress,  also,  that  we  have  seen  an  admirable 
comedy,  Count,"  said  Barthe,  with  a  sneer. 

,"  A  comedy!"  echoed  the  Count.  "  It  is  a  marvellous  reality.  Your- 
self confessed  it.  Professor." 

"A  careless 'word,  prematurely  uttered,  is  not  to  be  accepted  as  evi- 
dence," growled  Barthe. 

"Such  astounding  things  demand  time  for  consideration.  They  may 
be  optical  delusions,"  added  Ingenhaus. 

"  Ah,  gentlemen,  the  fact  is  a  stubborn  one,"  laughed  Count  Langer- 
mann. "  Therese  Von  Paradies  has  recovered  her  sight  without  couch- 
ing-knife  or  lancet,  and  I  shall  certainly  convey  the  news  of  the  miracle 
to  the  Empress." 

"AVhat  shall  we  dol"  asked  the  Astronomer  of  his  compeers,  as 
Count  Langermann  bowed  and 'left  them. 

Professor  Barthe  answered  nothing. 

"  We  must  devise  something  to  prop  up  science,  or  she  will  fall  upon 
our  heads  and  crush  us  to  death,"  said  Ingenhaus. 

"  What  are  we  to  do,"  repeated  Barthe,  slowly,  as  after  an  embarrass- 
ing silence,  the  three  had  walked  some  distance  together  down  the 
street.  I  will  tell  you  what  we  must  do.  Treat  the  whole  thing  as  a 
farce,  and  maintain,  in  the  face  of  all  opposition,  tihat  Therese  Von  Par- 
adies  is  still  blind."  ^ 

"But,  my  honored  friend,  unhappily  for  us  all,  you  have  made  this  im- 
practicable by  your  awkward  enthusiasm." 

"I  spoke  ironically,  and  the  ass  mistook  sarcasm  for  conviction." 

"Yes,  and  so  did  everybody  else,"  sighed  Hell.  "You  will  find  it 
difficult  to  convince  the  world  that  you  were  not  in  earnest." 

"  Perhaps  to-day  and  to-morrow,  I  may  fail  to  convince  the  world,  but 
day  after  morrow  it  will  begin  to  reason  and  to  doubt.  If  we  do  not 
<  Therese's  awii  wcr^ls.    Justinus  Kerner,  page  68. 


oppose  this  quack  with  a  strong  phal:\nx  of  learnc<l  men,  we  will  all  be 
sineered  at  for  our  previous  incredulity.  Now  I  adiu-re  to  my  text. 
Thcrese  Von  Paradics  is  blind,  and  no  one  shall  prove  to  me  that  she 
can  see.  Come  to  my  study  and  let  us  talk  this  provoking  matter 
over. 

Meanwhile,  Therese  was  receiving  the  congratulations  of  hor  friends. 
She  gazed  at  their  unknown  Hices  with  a  melancholy  smile,  and  frowned 
when  it  was  said  to  her,  "  this  is  the  jfriend  whom  you  love  so  much." — 
"  This  is  the  relative  whose  society  has  always  been  so  agreeable  to 
you." 

Then  she  closed  her  eyes,  and  said  they  were  weary.  "  L»et  me  hear 
your  voices,  and  so  accustom  myself  t<>  jour  straV)ge  coii;tenances," 
said  she.  ''Speak, dear  friends,  I  would  <fether  know  you  with  the  heart 
than  with  these  deceiving  eyes." 

Suddenly,  asfonc  of  her  female  companions  came  up  to  greet  her, 
Therese  burst  into  a  merry  laugh.  "  What  absurd  thing  is  that,  grow- 
ing out  of  your  head  ?"  asked  she. 

"  Why,  that  is  the  coiffure,  which  you  like  the  best,"  replied  her 
mother.     "It  is  a  coiffure  a  la  Mategnon.''^ 

Therese  raised  her  hands  to  her  own  head.  *'  True,  the  very  same 
towering  absurdity.     I  will  never  wear  it  again,  mother." 

"  It  is  very  fashionable,  and  you  will  become  accustomed  to  it." 

"  No,  I  shall  never  be  reconciled  to  such  a  caricature.  Now  that  I 
can  choose  for  myself,  I  .shall  attend  less  to  fashion  than  to  fitness  in  my 
dress.  But  1  have  seen  mankind — let  me  see  nature  and  heaven.  Mes- 
mer  may  I  look  upon  the  skies?" 

"  Come,  my  cliild,  and  we  will  try  if  your  eyes  can  bear  the  full  light 
of  day,"  replied  Mesmer,  fondly,  and  taking  her  arm  he  led  hei\,towards 
the  window. 

But  Therese,  usually  so  firm  in  her  tread,  took  short,  nncertain  steps, 
and  seemed  afraid  to  advance. 

"Gracious  heaven  I"  exclaimed  she,  clinging  anxiously  to  Mesmer, 
"  see  how  the  windows  come  towards  us  !  We  will  be  crushed  •  to 
death !" 

"  No,  Therese,  it  is  we  who. advance,  not  they.  You  will  soon  acquire 
a  practical  knowledge  of  the  laws  of  optics,  and  learn  to  calculate  dis- 
tances and  sizes  as  well  as  the  rest  of  us." 

"  But  what  is  this  V  cried  she.  as  they  approached  the  tall  mirror 
that  was  placed  between;  the  windows. 

"  That  is  a  mirror."' 

"  And  w,ho  is  that  man  who  is  so  like  yourself?" 

"  That  is  only  the  reflection  of  my  person  in  the  mirror." 

"  And  who  is  that  ridiculous  being  with  the  coiifure  a  la  Mateqnon  ''" 

"  That  is  yourself." 

"I !"  exclaimed  she,  quickly  advancing  to  the  mirror.  But  suddenly 
she  retreated  in  alarm.  "  Gracious  heaven,  it  comes  so  fast  that  it  will 
thr6w  me  down."  Then  she  Ffopped  f-r  a  moment  and  ]a"<rh"cr,    "  See," 


150  JUSKPb    rHE  ^SEOUWD 

said  she,  "the  girl  is  as  cowardly  as  myself.  The  farther  1  step  back 
the  further  she  retreats  also." 

"  All  this  is  an  optical  delusion,  Therese.  The  girl  is  nothing  but  a 
reilection,  a  picture  of  yourself  in  the  mirror." 

''  True,  1  forgot.  You  told  me  that  just  now,'' replied  Therese,  draw- 
ing.her  hand  wearily  across  her  forehead.  "Well  let  me  contemplate 
myself.  This,  then,  is  ray  likeness,"  said  she,  musing,  "My  mother 
was  mistaken.  This  face  is  not  handsome.  It  is  weary  and  soulless. — 
Come,  master,  I  have  enough  of  it,  let  me  see  the  heavens." 

"  Wait  until  I  draw  the  curtain  to  see  whether  you  are  able  to  bear 
the  full  light  of  day." 

The  curtain  was  lifted,  and  Therese,  giving  a  scream,  hid'  her  eyes. 

"  Oh,  it  cuts  like  the  point  of^  a  dagger !"  cried  she. 

"  I  thought  so ;  you  will  have  to  become  gradually  accustomed  to  it. 
You  shall  see  the  sky  this  evening.  But  now  you  must  suffer  me  to 
bind  up  your  eyes,  for  they  must  have  rest."- 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

DIPLOMATIC    STRATEGY. 

Thk  Emperor  Joseph  was  in  his  cabinet,  engaged  in  looking  over  the 
letters  and  documents  of  the  day,  when  a  page  announced  his  Highness 
Prince  Kaunitz.  Joseph  waved  his  hand  in  token  of  consent,  and  when 
the  Prince  appeared  at  the  door,  rose  to  meet  him  as  he  entered  the 
room. 

"  It  must  be  business  of  State  that  brings  your  Highness  to  my  study 
at  this  early  hour,"  said  the  Emperor. 

'  "  It  is  indeed,  sire,"  said  Kaunitz,  taking,  the  chair  which  Joseph  him- 
self, had  just  placed  for  him. 

"  And  it  must  be  a  day  of  rejoicing  with  you.  Prince,  for  1  see  that 
you  wear  every  order  with  which  you  have  been  decorated  by  every 
court  in  Europe.     What  does  this  display  signify  ?" 

"  It  signifies,  sire,  that  the  day  has  come,  which  I  have  awaited  for 
twenty  years — the  day  for  which  I  have  schemed  and  toiled,  and  which 
for  me  shall  be  the  proudest  day  of  my  life.  I  go  out  to  battle,  and  if 
1  am  to  be  victorious,  yonr  Majesty  ndust  come  to  my  assistance," 

"  Is  it  a  duel  with  the  Empress  in  which  I  am  to  be  yom'  second  ?  I 
ihsnk  you  for  the  honor,  hut  you  know  that  I  have  no  influence  with  my 

*  'ihe  description  of  Therese's  impressions,  aud  the  words  She  used  upon  the  recovery  of  her 
siijht,  are  not  imaginary,  Tliiey  are  all  oit«d  by  Jnstinus  Kemer,  and  were  related  to  him  by  her 
own  father. 


lady-mother.     I  am  an  Emperor  williout  a  sceptre.     But  tell  nic  Kiiu- 
riilz,  what  is  the  cause  of  the  trouble?" 

"  You  know  it,  sire,  and  I  have  come  to  prove  to  you  that  lama 
man  of  my  word,  and  keep  my  promises." 

"I  do  not  remember  that  you  ever  promised  me  anything." 

"  But  I  do.  I  remember  a  day  on  which  my  young  Emperor  came 
to  me  to  complain  of  a  wrong  which,  had  been  inflicted  upon  him  at 
Court." 

''  Marianne  !''  exclaimed  the  Emperor,  with  a  sigh.  '•  Yes,  yes,  the 
day  on  which  1  lost  sight  of  her  forever." 

**  Yes,  sire.  The  Emperor,  worthy  of  his  high  vocation,  relinquished 
the  girl  who  had  found  fivor  in  his  eyes,  and  for  this  sacrifice  I  promised 
him  my  loyal  friendship.  Three  objects  formed  the  tics  that  bound  us 
together  on  that  day.     Does  your  Majesty  remember?" 

"  Yes.  You  promised  to  place  Austria  at  the  head  of  European  af- 
fairs; you  have  done  so.  You  promised  indemnity  for  Silesia;  we  have 
it  in  our  recent  acquisitions  in  Poland." 

"  I  promised,  also,  to  crush  the  priesthood,  and  to  ruin  the  Jesuits," 
cried  Kaunitz,  exultingly,  and  I  am  here  to  fulfil  ray  promise.  The  hour 
has  come ;  fur  1  am  on  my  way  to  obtain  the  consent  of  the  Empress 
to  the  banishment  of  the  Jesuits  from  Austria." 

"  You  will  never  obtain  it.  Attachment  to  the  order  of  Jesus  is  an 
inheritance  with  the  House  of  Ilupsburg,  and  my  mother  styles  nie  a 
degenerate  son  because  I  do  not  participate  in  the  feeling." 

"  We  will  find  means  to  alienate  the  Empress,"  said  Kaunitz,  quietly. 

"  I  hope  so,  but  I  doubt  it.  Tell  mo  what  1  am  to  do,  aud  1  am 
ready  to  make  another  charge  against  them." 

Prince  Kaunitz  opened  his  pocket-book,  and  took  from  thence  a  letter 
which  he  handed  to  the  Emperor. 

"  Will  your  Majesty  have  the  goodness  to  hand  this  to  the  Empress  ?- 
It  is  a  letter  from  Carlos  III.,  in  which  he  earnestly  requests  his  illus- 
trious kinswoman  to  give  protection  no  longer  to  t\\(i  Jesuits,  whom  he 
has  driven  forcibly  away  from  Spain." 

"  Indeed  ?"  said  the  Emperor,  smiling.  '■'■  If  that  is  all,  the  Spanish 
Ambassador  might  have  delivered  it  quite  as  well  as  I." 

"  No,  sire,  that  is  not  all.  It  was  the  King  of  Spain's  request  that 
your  Majesty  should  deliver  the  letter,  and  sustain  it  by  every  argu- 
ment which  your  well  known  enmity  to  the  Jesuits  might  suggest." 

"I  am  more  than  willing  to  undertake  it;  but  to-day,  as  ever,  m}'- 
representations  to  the  Empress  will  be  vain." 

"  Do  your  best^  sire,  and  I  will  come  to  your  relief  with  a  reserved 
force,  which  will  do  good  service.  Only  allow  me  to  request  that  you 
will  not  quit  the  Empress  until  the  reserve  comes  up." 

" Then  the  parts  we  are  to  play  are  distributed  and  learned  by  heait  ?" 

"Just  so,  and  heaven  be  propitious,  that  the  scenery  may  work  well, 
and  the  actors  may  know  their  cue." 

"  We  have  accomplices  then  '''' 


"I  will  be  accompanied  by  the  Papal  Nuncio,  and  if  your  Majesty- 
permits  me,  I  will  go  tor  him  ut  once.  In  half  an  hour  I  v/ili  come  to 
the  rescue. 

"  Go,  then,  and  I  fly  to  the  Empress,"  cried  Joseph,  with  exultation. 


CHAPTER  ^kXXlX. 

DOMINUS    AC    REDEMPTOR    XOSTER. 

True  to  their  agreement,  the  Emperor  sought  an  interview  with  his 
mother.  Not  enjoying,  like  her  Prime  Minister,  the  privilege  of  enter- 
ing the  Empress's  presence  without  formal  leave,  Joseph  was  always 
obliged  to  wait  in  her  ante-room  until  the  Chamberlain  returned  with 
her  Majesty's  answer.  To-day  the  Empress  was  pi^itious,  and  gave 
word  for  her  son  to  be  admitted  to  her  private  cabinet  at  once.  "  That 
he  mi<5fht  enter  promptly  upon  the  object  of  his  visit,  the  Emperor  open- 
ed the  interview  by  handing  the  letter  of  the  King  of  Spain  asd  re- 
questing her  Majesty  to  read  it  in  his  presence. 

The  Empress,  surprised  at  the  urgency  of  the  demand,  sat  before  her 
escritoire  and  read  the  missive  of  her  royal  relative  ;  while  her  son,  with 
folded  arms,  stood  near  a  window,  and  scrutinised  her  countenance. 

He  saw  how  gradually  her  expression  lowered,  until  heavy  folds  corru- 
gated her  brow  and  deep  heavings  agitated  her  chest. 

"Those  are  the  sea-gulls  that  announce  the  coming  storm,"  said  he, 
to  himself.  "  1  must  be  on  my  guard  lest  I  be  engulphed  in  the  foam- 
ing waves."  ' 

"As  if  she  had  guessed  his  thoughts,  Maria  Theresa  raised  'her  eyes 
from  the  letter,  and  darted  a  look  of  displeasure  at  her  so^. 

"  Is  the  Emperor  aware  of  the  contents  of  this  letter?"  asked  she. 
"  I  believe  so,  your  Majesty,"  replied  he,  coming  forward  and  bowing. 
''  It  is  an  urgent  request  on  the  part  of  the  King  of  Spain  to  have  the 
Jesuits  removed  from  Austria." 

"  Nothing  less,"  cried  the  Empress,  indignantly.  "  He  expects  me  to 
assume  all  his  enmity  towards  the  Jesuits,  and  urges  it  in  a  most  un- 
seemly manner.  Doubtless,  he  requested  your  Majesty  to  present  his 
letter  in  person,  because  it  is  well  known  that  in  this,  as  in  all  other 
things,  your  opinions  are  at  variance  with  those  of  your  mother.  I  pre- 
sume this  is  a  new  tilt  against  my  predelictions,  like  that  in  which  you 
overthrew  me  but  a  few  weeks  since,  when  I  signed  the  act  that  ruined 
Poland.  Speak  out.  Are  you  not  here  to  sustain  the  King  of  Spain  ?'* 
«' Yes,  T  am,  your  Maiesty,"  cried  Jo?eph.  reddening.    "I  would  do 


as  the  King  of  Bpahi  has  done.  I  would  importune  you  until  the  powej' 
of  the  Jesuits  ie  crushed  in  Austria  as  it  has  been  crushed  in  France 
and  in  Spain." 

"You  will  not  succeed  !"  cried  the  Empress,  trying  to  control  her  ris- 
ing anger.  "  I  make  no  protest  against  the  action  of  the  Kings  of  France, 
Spain,  or  Portugal,  for  I  presume  that  they  have  decided  according  to 
their  convictions  ;  but  in  Austria  the  Jesuits  deserve  all  praise  for  their 
enlightened  piety,  and  their  existence  is  so  osspntial  to  the  well-being  of 
tlie  people,  that  1  shall  sustain  and  protect  theni  as  long  as  I  live,"- 

'•  Then,"  cried  Joseph,  passionately,  "  Austria  is  Inst.  If  I  were  ca- 
■pable  of  bate,  I  should  hate  these  Jesuits,  who  projiagating  the  senile 
v;igaries  of  an  old  Spanish  dotard,  have  sought  to  govern  the  souls  of 
men,  and  have  striven  for  nothing  on  earth  or  in  heaven  save  the  exten- 
sion of  their  own  influence  and  authority." 

'•It  appears  to  me  that  my  son  has  no  reason  to  lament  over  the  soft- 
ness of  his  own  heart,"  replied  Maria  Theresa,  bitterly.  '■^  If  he  were 
absolute  sovereign  here,  the  Jesuits  would  be  exiled  fo-mortow,  and  the 
King  of  Prussia,  for  whom  he  entertains  such  unbounded  admiration 
wouid  lie  the  first  one  to  offer  them  shelter.  I  will  answer  your  vitupera- 
tion, my  son,  by  reading  to  you  i^»%tter  '-written  by  Frederic  to  his 
agent  in  Rome.  It  relates  to  the  >umor  how  afloat  that  the  Pope  is 
about  to  disperse  the  holy  brotherhood.  I  have  just  received  a  copy  of 
it  from  Italy,  and  it  rejoices  me  to  be  able  to  lay  it  before  you.  flear 
your  demi-god." 

The  Empress  took  a  paper  from  her  escritoire,  and  unfolding  it,  rea4 
aloud. 

"Announce  distinctly,  but  with(>ut  bravado,  thiit  as  regards  the  Jes- 
uits, I  am  resolved  to  uphold  them  for  the  future,  as  *'havedonehitheito. 
Seek  a  fitting  opportunity  to  communicate  my  senlirfftnts  on  the  subject 
to  the  Pope.  1  have  guaranteed  free  exercise  of  religion  to  my  sub- 
jects in  Silesia.  "I  have  never  known  a  priesthood  worthier  of  estfeem 
than  the  Jesuits.  Add  to  this,  that  as  I  am  an  infidel,  the  Pope  cannot 
dispense  me  from  the  obligation  of  performing  my  duty  as  an  honorable 
man  and  an  upright  sovereign.  Frederic."* 

"  Well,"  asked  the  Empress,  as  she  folded  the  letter,  "shall  the  infi- 
del shame  the  christian  1  Would  you  serious]^'  ask  of  me  to  be  less 
clement  to  the  priesthood  than  a  Protestant.  Prince'?  Never,  never 
shall  it  be  said  that  INIaria  Theresa  was  ungrateful'  to  the  noble  brother- 
hood, who  are  the  bulwarks  of  order  and  of  legitimate  authority." 

Joseph  was  about  to  make  an  angry  retort,  when  the  door  opened 
and  a  page  announced,  with  great  formality  : 

"  His  Highness,  Prince  Kaunitz,  and  his  Eminence,  the  Papal  Nuncio, 
Monsignore  Garampi." 

The  two  Ministers  followed  close  upon  the  Announcement,  and  the 
'Nuncio  was  received  by  the  Empress  with  a  beaming  smile. 

"  I  am  curious  to  know  what  has  brought  Prince  Kaunitz  and  the  Pa- 

*  PrtPr  Philip  WoU :    Oi»npraI  lii-ftory  of  the  Jennits,  toI.  4,  page  !V,. 


i04  JOSKI'Jl    iUJ!.  .Sl!.CU.M> 

pal  Nuncio  together,"  said  she.  "  It  is  unusual  to  see  tlie  Prime  Minis- 
ter of  Austria  in  thii  corapan}-  of  church  aKni.  It  must,  therefore,  be 
s(;i;iet,hing  sianificanr,  which  has  united  church  and  stale  to-day." 

"  Your  Majesty  is  right,"  replied  Kauniiz,  "  the  visit  of  the  Nuncio 
Is  so  signilicant.  for  Auslria,  that  the  visit  of  your  Majesty's  Minister 
in  his  company,  was  imperative." 

'•  Your  Eminence  comes  to  speak  of  State  affairs  T'  inquired  the  Em- 
press, surprised. 

The  Nuncio  drew  from  his  robe  a  parchment  to  which  was  affixed  a 
ribbon  with  the  Papal  seal. 

"  His  floiiness  instructed  me  to  read  this  document  to  your  Apostolic 
MajcsLy.'"  said  Monsigtiore.  Garampi,  with  a  respectful  inclination  of  the 
head.     '•  Will  your  j\lajesty  allow  me?" 

•'Certainly,"  said  the  Empress,  leaning  forward  to  listen. 
/Fhe  Nuncio  then  unfolded  the  parchment,  and  amid  the  breathless 
atti-ntion  of  all  present,  read  the  celebrated  document,  which  in  history, 
be;ii  s  the  name  of  its  first  words  :  "  Domhms  ac  RedempioT  Nostery — 
This  letter  stated  that  in  all  ages  the  Pope  had  claimed  the  right  to 
found  religious  orders  or  to  abolish  J.hem.  It  cited  Gregory,  who  had 
abolished  the  order  of  the  Mendicff^fc  Friars,  and  Clement  V.,  who  had 
suppressed  that  of  the  Templars,  lb  then  referred  to  the  Society  of  the 
Brotherhood  of  Jesus.  It  stated  that  this  society  had  hitherto  been 
sustained  and  fostered  by  the  Papal  See,  on  account  of  its  signal  usefulness, 
and  the  eminent  piety  of  its  members.  But  of  late,  the  Brotherhood 
had  manifested  a  spirit  of  contentiousness  among  themselves,  as  well  as 
towards  other  orders,  organizations  and  universities ;  and  had  thereby 
fallen  under  the  displeasure  of  the  Princes  from  whom  they  had  reiv- 
ed encouragement  s^id  protection." 

When  the  Nunci^i  had  read  thus  far,  he  paused  and  raised  his  eyes  to 
the  tacf.  of  the  Empress.  It  was  very  pale  and  agitated,  while  the 
countenance  of  the  Emperor,  on  the  contrary,  was  flushed  with  triumph. 
Joseph  tried  to  meet  the  glance  of  Prince  Kaunitz's  eye,  but  it  was 
blank  as  ever ;  sometimes  fijsed  vacantly  upon  the  Nuncio,  and  then 
turning,  with  cold  indifference,  towards  the  speaking  countenances  of  the 
devoted  friend  and  inveterate  enemy  of  the  Order  of  Jesus. 

"  Go  on,  your  Eminence,"  at  length  faltered  the  Empress. 

The  Nuncio  bowed  and  continued  in  an  audible  voice:  "  Seeing  that 
bcf.ween  the  Holy  See  and  the  Kings  of  France,  Spain,  Portugal  and 
the  Sicilies,  misunderstandings  had  arisen  which  were  attributable  to 
the  influence  of  the  Order  of  Jesus,  seeing  that  the  Society  at  this  pres- 
ent time  had  ceased  to  bear  the  rich  fruits  of  its  past  usefulness,  the 
Pope,  after  conscientious  deliberation,  had  resolved,  in  the  fullness  of  his 
apostolic  right,  to  suppress  the  brotherhood." 

A  loud  cry  burst  from  the  lips  of  the  Empress,  as  overwhelmed  by 
the'^e  bitter  tidings  she  covered  her  face  with  her  hands.  The  Eraperpr 
approached  as  though  he  wished  to  address  her,  but  she  waved  him  off 
impatiently. 


"  Away,  Joseph  !"'  said  she.  "  I  will  listen  neither  to  your  condo- 
lence nor  to  your  cxultiitii.-ii.  Let  me  advise  you  too,  to  moderate  your 
transports,  for  this  is  Austrian  soil,  and  no  one  reigns  in  A\ustria  but 
•  Maria  Theresa.  The  Jesuits  have  been  a  blessing  to  mankind;  thev 
have  inj^ructed  our  youih,  and  have  been  the  guardians  of  all  knowl- 
edge; they  have  encouraged  the  Arts  and  Sciences,  and  have  disset;jina 
ted  the  Christian  faith  in  every  part  of  the  world.  They  have  been  Uie 
true  and  loyal  friends  of  my  house,  and  in  their  day  of  adversity, 
though  I  may  not  defend  them  against  their  ecclesiastical  superiors,  1  whl 
protect  them  against  malice  and  insult."' 

Thus  spoke  the  generous  and  true-hearted  Maria  Theresa,  but  her  ef- 
forts tO'jiistain  the  Jesuits,  as  an  organized  brotherhood,  weit^  fruitless. 
They  wdrs  an  ecclesiastic  fraternity,  sad  as  such,  their  existence  was  be-, 
yond  the  reach  of  civil  authority.  As  individuals,  (hey  were  her  sub- 
jects, but  as  a  society,  they  were  amenable  to  the  laws  of  the  Church, 
and  they  stood  or  fell,  by  that  code  alone. 

Bravely  she  struggled  ;  but  the  earnest  representations  of  the  Nuncio, 
the  sharp,  cutting  arguments  of  Kaunitz,  and  her  own  reluctance  to 
come  to  a  rupture  with  the  Pope  in  a  matter  essentially  within  ecclesi- 
astical jurisdiction,  all  these  things  united,  bore  down  her  opposition ; 
and  with  the  Fiame  reluctance  as  she  had  felt  in  acquiescing  to  the  par- 
tition of  Poland,  she  consented  to  the  suppression  of  the  Society  of 
Jesus. 

"  Come  hither  my  son,"  said  the  Empress,  reaching  her  hand  to  Jo- 
seph. "  Since  I  have  seen  fit  to  give  my  consent  to  this  thing,  I  have 
nothing  wherewith  to  reproach  you.  As  co-regent  I  hope  that  what  I 
am  about  to  say  will  obtain  your  approbation.  Monsignore,  you  have 
read  to  me  the  order  of  his  Holiness,  Clement  XIV,  for  the  suppression 
of  the  Jesuits.  For  my  part,  nothing  would  ever  have  induced  nie  to 
expel  them  from  my  dominions.  But  since  his  Holiness  sees  fit  to  do 
so,  1  feel  it  to  be  my  duty,  as  a  true  daughter  of  the  Church,  to  allow 
the  order  to  be  put  into  execution.*  Acquaint  his  Holiness  with  my 
decision,  and  remain  a  few  moments  that  you  may  witness  the  promp- 
titude with  which  his  intentions  are  to  be  carried  out." 

She  sat  down  to  her  escritoire,  and  tracing  a  few  lines  upon  a  piece 
of  paper,  handed  it  to  Prince  Kaunitz. 

"Prince,"  said  she.  '-here  is  the  order  which  in  accordance  to  strict 
form  must  be  in  my  own  hand  writing.  Take  it  to  Cardinal  Migazzi. 
Let  him  carry  out  the  intentions  of  the  Pope,  and  himself  perform  the 
funeral  rights  of  the  devoted  sons  of  Jesus." 

She  turned  her  head  away,  that  none  might  see  the  tears  which  were 
streaming  from  her  eyes.  Then  rising  from  her  seat,  she  crossed  the 
room.  Those  who  had  brought  this  grief  upon  her  watched  her  nuble 
form,  apd  as  they  saw  how  her  step  faltered,  they  exchanged  silent  glan- 
ces  of  sympathy.  As  she  reached  the  door,  she  turned,  and  then  they 
saw  her  pale,  sad  face  an!  tearful  eyes, 

*  The  EmpT«89>  own  words.    Grofs  HofBnger.vnl.  1.  p«igel98. 


"When  the  Cardloal  visits  the  Colle<:];e  of  the  Jesuits  to  reacl  the  Pa- 
pal order,  let  an  imperial  Coinm4«sariii3  accompany  him,"  said  Maria 
Theresa  in  an  imperative  tune.  "  Immediately  after  its  promulgation 
he  shall  promise  to  the  Jesuits  my  Imperial  favor  and  protection,  if  they 
submit  to  the  will  of  the  Pope  as  becomes  true  servants  of  God  and  of 
the  Church.  It  shall  also  be  exacted  that  the  proceedings  against  the 
Order  of  Jesus  shall  be  conducted  with  lenity  and  due  respect,  and  for 
the  future,  I. shall  never  suffer  that  any  member  of  the  society  shall  be 
treated  with  contumely  and  scorn."'^'  .      . 

She  bowed  her  lofty  head,  and  withdrew. 

Complete  silence  followed  the  disappearance  of  the  Empress.  No 
one  dared  to  violate  the  significance  of  the;  laoment  by  a  WQ&d,  The 
Nuncio  bowed  low  to  the  Empenor  and  retired ;  but  as  Kisanitz  was 
about  to  follow,  Joseph  came  hastily  forward  and  clasped  him  in  his 
arms.  . 

"I  thank  you,"  whispered  he.  "You  have  fulfilled  your  pledges,  and 
Austria  is  free.     My  obligations  to  you  are  for  life  1" 

The  two  ministers  then  descended  together  to  the  great  palace-gate 
where  their  state-carriages  awaited  them. 

Prince  Kaunitz  greeted  the  Nuncio  with  another  silent  bow,  and  shrink- 
ing from  the  blasts  of  a  mild  September  day.f  wrapped  himself  up  in 
six  cloaks,  and  sealed  up  his  mouth  with  a  huge  muffof  sables.  He  then 
stepped  into  his  carriage,  and  drove  off.  Once  safe  and  alone  within  his 
exhausted  receiver,  he  dropped  his  muff  for  a  moment,  and  wonderful 
to  relate — he  smiled. 

''  Let  things  shape  themselves  as  they  will,"  said  he  thoughtfully,  "  I 
am  absolute  master  of  Austria.  Whether  the  sovereign  be  called  Maria 
Theresa,  or  Joseph,  it  is  all  one  to  me.  Both  feel  my  worth,  and  both 
have  vowed  to  me,  eternal  gratitude.  Poland  has  fallen — the  Jesuits 
are  dispersed — but  Kaunitz  is  steadfast,  for  he  is  the  pillar  upon  which 
the  imperial  house  leans  for  support !" 

Four  weeks  after  the  publication  of  the  papal  order  by  Cardinal 
Migazzi,  the  doors  of  the  Jesuit  College  were  opened,  and  forth  from  its 
portals  came  the  brotherhood  of  the  order  of  Jesus. 

Led  by  their  superior,  all  in  their  long  black  cassocks,  with  rosaries 
hanging  at  their  blue  girdles,  they  left  the  flimiliar  home,  which  had  been 
theirs  for  a  hundred  years.  Each  one  carried  in  his  hands  his  Bible  and 
breviary.  The  faces  of  the  brothers  were  pale  and  unspeakably  sad, 
and  their  lips  were  compressed  as  though  to  thrust  back  the  misery  that 
was  surging  within  their  hearts. 

The  multitude  weremute  as  they.  Not  a  word,  whether  of  sympathy 
or  of  animosity  greeted  the  silent  procession.  On  went  the  noiseless 
spectre-like  train  until  it  reached  the  market-place.  There  the  Superior 
stopped,  and  the  brothers  gathered  around  him  in  one  vast  ciniie. 

He  uncovered  his  head,  and  all  followed  his  example.     All  bowed 

*  The  Empress's  words.    Adam  Wolf.    Maria  Theresa.    P.  432. 
+  Tbe  Papn)  orfler  was  promnl^ntna  iii  Viennn  on  Pept,  10. 1795. 


KMPEKUK  UK    AjSTRlA.  |57 

their  heads  hi  prayer  to  the  God  who  had  willed  that  this  gteat  hum  ilia-, 
tion  should  be/all  them.  In  one  last  petition  to  Fleavcn  for  resignation, 
they  bade  adieu  to  their  £;lorious  past  with  its  glorious  memories;  and 
the  people  overcome  by  the  simple  sublimity  of  the  scene,  fell  upon  their 
knees  and  wept,  repeating  while  they  wept  the  prayers  which  they  had 
learned  from  the  teachers  with  whom  they  were  parting  forever. 

The  prayer,  was  ended,  and  now  the  Superior  went  from  brother  to 
brother,  taking  the  hand  of  each  one.  And  every  man  faltered  a  bless- 
ing  which  their  chief  returned.  So  be  went  from  one  to  another  until 
he  had  greeted  them  all ;  then  passing  from  the  crowd,  with  a  Jesuit  on 
eithe(  side,  he  disappeared. 

So  ended  the  dispersion  of  the  order  of  Jesus,  whom  the  whole  world 
believed  to  be  crushed  forever.  Buftbey  knew  better,  for  as  crowding 
around  their  chief  they  had  whispered  "Shall  we  ever  be  a  brotherhood 
again?"  he  had  returned  the  pressure  of  their  friendly  hands,  and  had 
replied  with  prophetic  fervor. 

"Yes — whenever  it  be  God's  will  to  reinstate  us.  Wait  patiently 
for  the  hour.  It  will  surely  come,  for  Loyala's  order  is  immortal  like 
the  soul !" 


CHAPTER  XL. 

HEART    STRUGGLES. 

The  week  of  delay  which  the  Empress  had  granted  to  the  Countess 
Margaret  had  passed  away  and  the  eve  of  her  bridal  had  dawned.  The 
Countess  had  been  more  fitful  than  ever  during  those  eight  eventful  davs, 
and  her  uncle's  household  had  suffered  accordingly. 

"She  will  take  her  life,"  whispered  the  servants  among  themselves, 
as  each  day,  like  a  pale  spectre,  she  glided  through  the  house  to  mount 
her  wild  Arabian.  The  two  footmen,  who  accompanied  her  on  these 
occasions,  told  how  she  galloped  so  madly  that  they  could  scarcely  keep 
pace  with  her ;  and  then  suddenly  checked  her  horse,  and  with  her  head 
bent  over  its  neck,  remained  motionless  and  wept. 

Once  the  Emperor  had  surprised  her  in  tears,  and  when  she  became 
aware  of  his  presence,  she  started  off  on  a  mad  run  and  left  him  far  be- 
hind. This  occured  twice ;  but  the  third  time  the  Emperor  came  upon 
her  so  quickly  that  before  she  had  time  to  fly.  he  had  grasped  her  rein. 
The  footmen  declared  that  they  had  never  heard  such  a  cry  as  she  gave  ; 
and  they  thought  that  the  Emperor  would  be  highly  offended.  But  he 
only  laughed,  and  said,  c»r.. 


158  JOSEPH  TUB  SEOUKJU. 

"  No\v.  Countess,  you  are  mv  prisoner,  find  I  shall  not  allow  my 
v.ea.i.tl'ji  Aiuiizou  to  go  uiuii  tjiiri  iias  tui -i  iiic  vvhy  wc  never  see  hur  at 
Court." 

i'he  Countess  turned  so  pale  that  her  servants  thought  she  would  fall 
from  her  horse,  and  the  Emperor  cried  out,  "  Good  heaven  !  what  is  the 
matter  with  you?" 

She  broke  into  a  loud  laugh,  and  striking  her  horse  with  the  whip, 
tried  to  gallop  off  again.  But  the  Emperor  put  spurs  to  his  horse,  and 
the  two  dashed  on  together.  Neck  and  neck  they  ran;  the  Coiintess 
lashing  her  Arabian  until  he  made  wild  leaps  into  the  air,  the  Emperor 
urging  his  Barb  with  whip  and  spur  until  his  flanks  were  white  with 
foam.  At  last  he  came  so  near  that  he  made  a  grasp  at  her  rein  and 
caught  it,  exclaiming,  with  a  merry  laugh, 

"  Cawght  again !" 

The  Countess  turned  around  with  eyes  that  darted  lightning. 

"  Why  do  you  laugh  so  immoderately'?"  said  she. 

"  Because  we  are  enacting  such  a  delightfully  comic  scene.  But  do 
not  look  so  angry  ;  your  bright  eyes  are  on  fire,  and  they  make  a  man's 
heart  boil  over.  Answer  my  question  and  1  restore  you  to  freedom. — 
Why  do  you  shun  me,  and  why  do  you  never  come  to  court?" 

Now  the  pale  cheeks  flushed,  and  the  voice  was  subdued  until  its 
tones  were  like  plaintive  music.  "Sire,  I  do  not  visit  the  court  because 
I  am  a  poor,  unhappy  creature,  unfitted  for  society,  and  because  no  one 
misses  me  there." 

"  And  whj  do  you  fly  from  me  as  if  I  were  Lucifer,  the  son  of  the 
morning?" 

'•  Ah.  your  Majesty,  grief  flies  from  the  light  of  day,  and  seeks  the 
cover  of  friendly  night !  And,  now,  free  my  horse,  if  you  would  not. 
have  me  fall  dead  at  your  feet," 

Agnia  she  turned  pale,  and  trembled  from  head  to  foot.  When  the 
Emperor  saw  this,  he  loosed  her  rein,  and  bowing  to  his  saddle-bow, 
galloped  away  out  of  sight.  The  Countess  turned  her  horse's  head  and 
went  slowly  home. 

All  this,  Count  Starhamburg  learned  from  the  footmen,  for  never  a 
word  had  his  niece  spoken  to  him  since  the  unhappy  day  of  Connt  Es- 
terhazy's  visit.  To  say  the  truth,  the  old  man  was  not  sorry  that  her 
soriow  had  taken  the  shape  of  taciturnity  ;  for  her  pale  cheeks  and  glar- 
ing eyes  alfrighted  him,  and  he  hugged  himself  close  in  his  short-lived 
security,  as  each  day  she  declined  to  appear  at  table,  and  was  served  in 
the  solitude  of  her  own  room. 

She  was  served,  but  her  food  returned  untouched.  Neither  did  she 
seem  to  sleep,  for  at  all  times  of  the  night  she  could  be  heard  pacing 
her  room.  Then  she  would  sit  for  hours  before  her  piano  ;  and,  although 
her  playing  and  singing  had  been  equally  renowned,  her  uncle  had  never 
suspected  the  genius  that  had  lain  concealed  iuithe  touch  of  her  hands 
and  the  sound  of  her  voice.  It  waS' no  longeh  the  "  fierce  Countess," 
whose  dashing  exQpiition  had  distanced  all  gentler  rivals  ;  it  was  a  timid 


EMFEROK  OK  AUSTIllA  |59 

maiden,  whose  first  love  was  findina:  utterance  in  entranolnsr  melodv  — 
Otj  ihc  night  t'ollowiiig  hc-i    l;i-L  ( .il-'jutiu  r  \Miii  thv;    Eiij]k-i-..i  ,  tijf,  u,  .   , 
became  more  passionate  in  its  chuiactor.     It.    was    less   tfiider,  but  t'n 
more,  sad,  and  ofuu  it  ceased,  bi^cause  Iho  inusician  stopped  to  wwp. 

ller  uncle  heard  her  soh,  and  following  ihe  impuUeof  hi*  atit^ciiou 
and  compassion,  he  opened  the  door  of  h-jr  room,  and  came  softly  in. 

He  called  her,  and  she  i-aised  her  head.  The  light  from  the  wax  can 
dlf's  that  stood  on  the  harpsichord, fell  directly  npon  her  face,  whiih  v.iis 
biiuewed  with  tdars.  Her  uncle's  entrance  seemed  neither  to  have  sur- 
prised nor  irritated  her ;  with  an  expression  of  indescribable  woe,  she 
merely  murmured, 

"See,  uncle,  to  what  the  Empress  has  reduced  me  !" 

Her  uncle  took  her  in  his  arms,  and  like  a  weary  child,  she  leaned  her 
head  upon  his  shoulder.  Suddenly  she  started,  and  disengaging  herself, 
she  stood  before  him  and  took  his  hnnds  in  hers. 

"Oh,  is  it  inevitable !  Must  I  bow  my  head,  like  a  slave,  to  this 
marriage,  while  my  heart  proclaims  an  eternal  no!" 

The  old  Count  wiped  his  eyes.  "  I  fear  there  is  no  hope,  my  child,  I 
have  done  all  that  1  could." 

"  What  have  you  done  ?" 

"  1  first  appealed  to  Count  Esterhazy ;  but  he'  declar*«d  himself  to  be 
too  intoxicated  by  your  beauty,  to  resign  you.  I  then  tried  to  interest 
some  of  our  friends  at  court ;  but  no  one  dared  to  intercede  for  my 
darling.  The  Empress  has  received  a  severe  blow  in  the  expulsion  of 
the  Jesuits,  and  no  one  has  the  courage  to  come  betM-een  her  and  her  • 
mania  for  match-making.  I  then  appealed  to  her  Majesty,  myself;  but 
in  vain.  Her  only  answer  was  this  :  You  are  to  marry  the  Count  or  go 
into  a  convent.  She  added,  that  tO' morrow  everything  w<'uld  be  pre- 
pared in  the  court-chapel  for  your  marriage ;  that  she,  herself  would 
honor  you  by  giving  you  away,  and  that  if  you  did  not  come  punc;  ual- 
ly  when  the  imperial  state-coach  was  sent  for  you,- she  would  have  you 
taken  instead,  to  a  convent." 

"  Is  that  all?"  asked  she,  with  a  painful  blush. 

*'No,  Margaret;  I  saw  the  Emperor  also." 

"What  said  he?"  asked  the  Count  ess,  in  a  hoarse  voiie.  pressing  «o 
heavily  upon  the  old  man's  shoulder  that  he  could  scarcely  suind  undu'r 
the  weight  of  her  hands. 

"  Word  for  word,  tell  me  what  he  said  !" 

"I  will  tell  you.  The  Emperor  said  :  *  Dear  G)unt.  no  one  would 
serve  you  sooner  than  I,  but  as  regards  her  mania  for  marrying  people, 
the  Empress  is  inflexible.  And  indeed,  it  seems  to  me,  that  she  has 
chosen  admirably  for  your  beautiful  niece.  Count  Esterhazy  is  young. 
hand.sorae,  immensely  rich,  and  a  favorite  at  court.  You  wijl  see  desir 
Count,  that  she  will  end  by  making  him  an  »ffectionate  and  obedient 
wif6-,  for  a  yoTing  girl's  ha'e  i?  very  often  nothing  but.  concealed  b'Vt-  " 
Those  were  the  Emperor's  words,  my  dcir."  1  protested  against  his  in- 
terpretation of  your  dislike  to  Count' Esterhazy,  but  in  vlitn. 


160  JU«EFH  THE  6EC0ND. 

To  this  Margaret  replied  not  a  word.  Her  hands  had  fallen  gradually 
from  her  uncle's  shoulders  until  they  hung  listless  at  her  side;  her 
graceful  head  was  bowed  down  by  the  sharp  stroke  of  the  humiliation 
which  had  just  striclien  her,  and  her  whole  attitude  was  that  of  hopeless 
disconsolation. 

After  a  few  moments,  she  threw  back  her  head  with  wild  defiance. — 
"  He  will  find  that  he  is  a  false  prophet,"  exclaimed  she,  with  a  laugh 
of  scorn.     "  I  promise  him  that." 

"  But,  my  dear  girl,"  began  Count  Starhemberg. 

"  Will  you,  too,  insult  me  with  prophecies  of  my  future  obedience  to 
this  fine  young  man  1  l5o  you,  too,  wish  to  prove  to  me  that  1  am  a 
fortunate " 

"  My  child,  I  wish  nothing  of  the  sort."  •  * 

"Then  what  means  the  '  but?'  Does  it;;mean  that  I  am  to  be  con- 
soled by  the  t-'plendor  that  is  to  attend  this execution  *    Does  it  mean 

that  my  maidenly  blushes — the  blushes  that  betray  my.  secret  love,  are 
to  be  hidden  by  a  veil  of  priceless  lace"?  Does  it  mean  that  the  chains 
with  which  your  peerless  Empress  will  fetter  my  arms,  are  to  be  of 
gold,  secured  with  diamonds  ?  Have  you  taken  care  to  provide  the 
myrtle  wreath,  the  emblem  of  love,  wherewith  to  deck  the  bride's 
brow?  Oh,  God  !  oh,  Kjrod  !  May  some  inr.perial  daughter  of  this  wo- 
man suffer  worse  than  death  for  this !" 

"The  Count  shuddered,  and  left  the  room.  He  had  not  dared  to  say 
that  in  truth  her  bridal  dress  was  all  that  she  had  described.  It  had"  all 
been  chosen — the  .rich  robe,  the  costly  veil,  the  golden  bracelets,  the 
glittering  diamonds,  even  the  myrtle  wreath — the  emblem  of  the  hum- 
ble as  well  as  the  high-born  bride.  All  were  there,  awaiting  the  mor- 
row. 


* 

CHAPTER  XLI. 


\ 


THE    FORCED   BRIDAL. 


The  ceremony  was  to  take  place  at  eleven  o'clock..  The  imperial 
carriage  of  state  was  at  the  door,  and  behind  it  stood  the  gilded  coaches 
of  Counts  Esterhazy  and  Starhemberg.  The  former  had  been  awaiting 
the  appearance  of  his  bride  for  two  hours ;  but  to  all  his  tender  messages 
she  had  curtly  replied  that  she  would  come  when  she  was  ready. 

"I  fear  she  will  play  us  some  dreadful  trick,"  sighed  the  old  Count. 

"  My  dear  Count,"  returned  jEsterhazy,  "  no  man  would  be  so  presum 
ing  as  to  thwai-fc  the  Empress." 


iCMr£KO&  04»   AUbTKlA.  •  J  (31 

"Perhaps  not — but  my  niece  has  more  character  than  some  men." 
"  What  have  I  done  for  her  to  scorn  me  as  she  does !"  cried  the  un- 
'  happy  little  bridegroom. 

"  You  have  opposed  her,  that  is  all.  My  niece  is  an  Amazon,  nnd 
cannot  bear  to  give  up  her  heart  at  another's  will.  Had  she  been  left 
free,  it  might  have  been  otherwise." 

*'  Do  you  really  think  she  will  come  to  love  mel"  asked  Esterhazy, 
surveying  his  diminutive  comeliness  in  the  mirror  opposite. 

"1  am  quite  sure  of  it,  and  so  is  the  Emperor.  Take  courage 
then,  bear  with  her  whims  for  awhile,  they  are  nothing  but  harmless 
summer  lightnings.  Do  not  heed  the  storm ;  think  of  the  flowers  that 
will  spring  up  to  beautify  your  life,  when  the  showers  of  her  tears  shall 
have  passed  away." 

"  Oh,  I  will  be  patient.     Siie  shall  e.xhaust  herself." 

Here  the  door  opened,  and  the  Countess's  maid  entered  with  a  re- 
quest that  Count  Esterhazy  would  follow  her  to  her  lady's  apartment. 

The  Count  kissed  his  hand  to  Count  Starhemberg  and  hurried  away. 
When  he  entered  the  Countess's  sitting-room  she  was  standing  in  all  the 
pride  of  her  bridal  attire,  and  seemed  more  transcendantly  beautiful 
than  ever.  The  court-dress,  with  its  long  train,  heightened  the  elegance 
of  her  figure,  and  the  silver-spotted  veil,  that  fell  to  her  feet,  enveloped 
her  like  a  white  evening  cloud. 

But  how  little  did  her  face  ftccord  with  this  superb  festive  dress  ! — 
Her  cheek  was  deathly  pale,  her  exquisite  mouth  was  writhing  with  an- 
guish, and  her  great,  glowing  eyes  darted  glances  of  fiery  hatred. 

"  You  really  have  the  courage  to  persevere,  Count  Esterhazy  ?  You 
will  perpetrate  the  crime  of  marriage  with  me  ?" 

"  When  a  man  opens  his  arms  to  receive  the  most  enchanting  woman 
that  was  ever  sent  on  earth,  do  you  call  that  crime  ?"  said  Esterhazy, 
tenderly. 

An  impatient  shrug  was  the  answer  to  this  attempt  at  gallantry. 

"  Have  1  not  told  you  that  you  would  earn  nothing  for  your  reward 
by  my  hatred  ?  In  the  despair  of  my  heart,  have  I  not  told  you  that  I 
love  another  man  ?  Oh,  you  have  come  to  tell  me  that  youspare  me 
the  sacrifice — have  you  not?  You  will  not  force  a  helpless  girl  to  mar- 
ry you  who  does  so  only  to  escape  a  convent — will  you  ?  Oh,  tell  me 
that  you  have  summoned  manliness  enough  to  resist  the  Empress  and 
to  gtve  me  my  freedom  !" 

"  I  have  summoned  manliness  enough  to  resist  you  and  bearing  yoHr 
anger,  I  am  resolved  to  take  the  Ijewitching  woman  to  wife,  whom  my 
generous  Empress  has  selected  for  me." 

"  You  are  a  contemptible  coward,"  cried  she. 

"  I  forgive  you  the  epithet,  because  I  am  in  love,"  replied  he,  with  a 
smile. 

"  But  if  you  Have  no  pity  for  me,"  cried  she  wildly,  "  have  pity  on 
yourself.  You  have  seen  how  I  treat  ray, uncle,  and  yet  1  love  him 
dearly.    Think  what  your  fate  will  be  since  I  hate  you  immeasureably." 

1] 


162  ,  JOSEJ'B  THfi  SECOND. 

*•  Ah,"  said  he,  "  can  you  expect  me  to  be  more  merciful  to  myself 
than  to  you  1  No,  no !  I  rely  upon  my  love  to  conquer  your  hate.  It 
will  do  so  all  in  good  time." 

"  As  there  is  a  God  in  heaven,  you  will  rue  this  hour !"  cried  Marga- 
ret with  mingled  defiance  and  despair. 

"  Com'B,  Countess,  come.  The  Empress  and  her  son  await  us  in  the 
court-chapel." 

Margaret  shivered,  and  drew  her  veil  around  her.  She  advanced  to- 
wards the  door,  but  as  the  Count  was  in  the  act  of  opening  it,  she  laid 
her  two  hands  upon  his  arm,  and  held  him  back. 

"  Have  mercy  on  my  soul,"  sobbed  she.  "  It  is  lost  if  I  become  your 
wife»  J  have  a  stormy  tempi|r,  and  sorrow  will  expand  it  into  wicked- 
ness. I  feel  that  I  shall  be  capable  of  crime  if  you  force  me  to  this 
marriage !" 

"  Gracious  heavens !"  cried  the  Count,  pettishly,  "  if  you  abhor  me  to 
such  a  degree,  why  do  you  not  go  into  a  convent  ?"- 

"  I  had  resolved  to  do  so,  for  the  convent  is  less  repulsive  to  me  than 
a  home  in  your  palace ;  but  I  could  not  bring  myself  to  the  sacrifice. 
No  ! — Were  I  to  be  immured  within  those  convent  walls,  I  should  for- 
ever be  shut  out  from  the  sight  of  him  whom  I  love.  Do  you  hear  this "? 
Do  you  hear  that  I  marry  you  only  to  be  free  to  see  him,  to  hear  his 
voice,  to  catch  one  glance  of  his  eye  as  he  passes  me  in  the  crowd  1 — 
Oh,  you  will  not  take  to  wife  a  woman  who  meditates  such  perjury  aa 
this !  You  will  not  give  your  father's  name  to  her  who  is  going  to  the 
altar  with  a  lie  upon  her  lips  and  a  crime  upon  her  soul !  Go — tell  all 
this  to  the  Empress.  Tell  her  that  you  will  not  disgrace  your  noble 
house  by  a  marriage  with  me  !  Oh,  Count  Esterhazy,  be  merciful,  be 
merciful  I" 

"  Impossible,  Countess,  impossible ;  were  it  even  possible  for  me  to 
belie  you  by  such  language.  I  shall  not  see  the  Empress  until  we  stand 
before  the  altar  together,  and  then  she  will  be  in  her  oratorium,  far  be- 
yond my  reach." 

"  Yes,  yes,  you  can  reject  me  at  the  altar.  Oh,  see  how  I  humble 
myself!  I  am  on  my  knees  before  you.  Spurn  me  from  you  in  the 
face  of  the  whole  world  !" 

Count  Esterhazy  looked  thoughtful.  On  her  knees  the  Countess  un- 
happily was  more  beautiful  than  ever,  so  that  remembering  her  uncle's 
w^ords,  he  said  to  himself, 

"Yes — I  will  humor  her — I  must  feign  to  yield." 

He  stretched  out  his  hands,'  saying,  "  Rise,  Countess.  It  does  not  be- 
come a  sovereign  to  kneel  before  her  slave.  I  have  no  longer  the  power 
to  oppose  your  will.  Before  the  altar,  I  will  say  'no  '  to  the  Priest's 
question,  and  you  shall  be  free." 

The  Countess  uttered  a  loud  cry  of  joy,  and  rose  to  her  feet.  And 
as  her  pale  cheek  kindled  with  hope,  and  her  eyes  beamed  with  happi- 
ness, she  was  more  beautiful  than  she  had  ever  been  in  her  life  before, 
and  Count  !Estcrha?y  exulted  over  it. 


EMFEROK  UP  AUtiTHJA,  163 

"God  bless  you !"  exclaimed  she,  with  a  heavenly  smile.  "You 
have  earned  my  affection  now ;  for  my  life  I  vow  to  love  you  as  a  cher- 
ished brother.  Come,  dear,  generous,  noble  friend,' cbme.  Let  us 
hasten  to  the  chapel." 

It  was  she  now  who  opened  the  door.  Count  Starhemberg  awaited 
them  in  the  drawing-room.  Margaret  flew  to  meet  him,  and  embracing 
him  said, 

"  Do  I  not  look  like  a  happy  bride  now  ?  Come,  uncle,  come,  dear 
Count  Esterhazy,  let  us  go  to  our  bridal.'' 

She  took  Esterhazy's  arm  and  he  placed  her  in  the  carriage.  The  old 
Count  followed  in  speechless  wonder. 

At  the  door  of  the  chapel  they  were  me^^'y  the  Empress's  first  lady 
of  honor,  who  conducted  the  bride  to  the  altar.  The  Emperor  walked 
by  the  side  of  Count  Esterhnzy.  The  face  of  the  Countess  was  radiant 
with  happiness,  and  all  who  saw  her  confessed  that  she  was  lovely  be- 
yond all  description. 

And  now  the  ceremonial  began.  The  Priest  turned  to  Count  Ester- 
hazy  and  asked  him  if  he  took  the  Countess  Margaret  Von  Starhemberg 
for  his  wedded  wife,  to  love,  honor,  and  cherish  her  until  death  should 
them  divide. 

There  was  a  pause,  and  Margaret  looked  with  a  bright  smile  at  the 
face  of  her  bridegroom.  But  the  eyes  of  the  spectators  were  fixed  upon 
him  in  astonishment,  and  the  brow  of  the  Empress  grew  stormy. 

"  Will  you  take  this  woman  for  your  wedded  wife  ?"  repeated  the 
Priest. 

"I  will,"  said  Esterhazy,  in  a  loud,  firm  voice. 

A  cry  escaped  from  the  lips  of  Margaret.  She  wa^  so  faint  that  she 
reeled  and  would  have  fallen,  but  for  the  friendly  support  of  an  arm 
that  sustained  her,  and  the  witching  tones  of  a  voice  that  whispered : 
"Poor  girl,  remember  that  a  cloister  awaits  you." 

She  recognised  the  voice  of  the  Emperor ;  and  overcoming  her  weak- 
ness, the  courage  of  despair  came  to  her  help. 

She  raised  herself  from  Joseph's  arras  and  taking  the  vinaigrette  that 
was  tendered  her  by  the  lady  of  honor,  she  inhaled  its  reviving  aroma ; 
then  she  looked  at  the  Priest. 

He  continued,  and  repeated  his  solemn  question  to  her.  Etiquette  re- 
quired that  before  she  answered,  she  should  have  the  sanction  of  the 
Empress.  The  Countess  turned,  with  a  low  inclination,  to  the  lady  of 
honor,  who,  in  her  turn,  curtsied  deeply  to  the  Empress. 

Maria  Theresa  bowed  acquiescence,  and  the  bride,  having  thanked  her 
with  another  curtsy,  turned  once  more  to  the  Priest  atid  said  "  Yes." 

The  ceremony  was  over,  and  the  young  couple  received  the  congratu- 
lations of  the  court.  Even  the  Empress,  herself,  descended  from  the 
oratorium  to  meet  thera. 

"  I  have  chosen  a  very  excellent  husband  for  you,'  said  she  smiling, 
"  and  I  have  no  doubt  you  will  be  a  very  happy  woman." 

"  It  must  be  so,  of  course,  your  JIajesty,"  replied  the  bride,  '■  for  had 


164  JOSEPH  THE  SECOND. 

your  Majesty  not  ascertained  that  this  marriage  had  been  made  in 
heaven,  you  would  not  have  ordered  it  on  earth,  I  presume." 

Maria  Theresa  darted  a  look  of  auger  at  the  Countess,  and  turning 
her  back  upon  such  presumption,  offered  her  good  wishes  to  the  Count. 

"  What  did  you  say  to  irritate  the  Empress  so  1"  whispered  Joseph 
to  the  bride. 

Margaret  repeated  her  words.     "  That  was  a  bold  answer,"  said  he. 

"  Has  your  Majesty  ever  taken  me  for  a  coward?  I  think  I  have 
shown  preter-human  courage  this  day." 

"  What !  Because  you  have  married  Count  Esterhazy  1  Believe  me, 
you  will  be  the  happiest  of  tyrants  and  he  the  humblest  of  your  slaves." 

"  I  will  show  him  that  slavib  deserve  the  lash !"  cried  she,  with  a  look 
of  hatred  at  her  husband,  who  came  forward  to  conduct  her  to  the  pal- 
ace, where  the  marriage  guests  were  now  to  be  received. 

The  festivities  of  the  day  over,  the  Empress's  lady  of  honor  conduct- 
ed the  Countess  to  her  new  home.  It  was  the  duty  of  this  lady  to  as- 
sist the  bride  in  removing  her  rich  wedding-dress,  and  assuming  the 
costly  fiif/lige  -wMch  lay  ready  prepared  for  her  on  a  lounge  in  her  mag- 
nificent dressing-room. 

But  the  Countess  imperiously  refused  to  change  her  dress,  "Have 
the  goodness,"  said  she,  *'  to  say  to  her  Majesty,  that  you  conducted  me 
to  my  dressing-room.  You  can  say  further,"  added  she,  hearing  the 
door  open,  "  that  you  left  me  with  Count  Esterhazy." 

She  pointed  to  the  Count,  who  entered,  greetrog  the  ladies  with  a  re- 
spectful bow. 

"  I  will  leave  you  then,"  said  the  lady,  kissing  Margaret's  forehead. 
"  May  heaven  bless  you !" 

Count  Esterhazy  was  now  alone  with  his  wife.  With  a  radiant  smile 
and  both  hands  outstretched,  he  came  towards  her. 

"  Welcome  to  my  house,  beautiful  Margaret.  From  this  hour  you 
reign  supreme  in  the  palace  of  the  Esterhazys." 

Tho  Countess  stepped  back.  "  Do  not  dare  to  touch  my  hand.  A 
gulf  yawns  between  us,  and  if  you  attempt  to  bridge  it,  I  will  throw 
you,  headlong,  into  its  fiery  abyss." 

"What  gulf  1  Point  it  out  to  me,  that  I  may  bridge  it  with  my 
love,"  cried  Esterhazy. 

"The  gulf  of  my  contempt,"  said  she,  coldly.  "You  are  a  coward 
and  a  liar.  You  have  deceived  a  woman  who  trusted  herself  to  your 
honor,  and  God  in  heaven,  who  would  not  hear  my  prayers,  God  shall 
be  the  witness  of  my  vengeance.  Oh,  you  shall  repent  from  this  hour  to 
'  come,  that  ever  you  called  me  wife.  1  scorn  to  be  a  liar  like  you,  and  I 
tell  you  to  beware.     I  will  revenge  myself  for  this  accursed  treachery." 

"  I  do  not  fear  your  revenge,  fbr  you  have  a  noble  heart.  The- day 
will  come  when  I  shall  be  forgiven  for  my  deception.  Heaven  is  always 
clement  towards  the  repentant  sinner,  and  you  are  my  heaven,  Marga- 
ret.   1  await  the  day.  of  mercy," 

''  Yes,  you  shall  have  such  mercy  ai  heaven  has  show»^  to  me !"  cried 


4MPERUK  OP  AUSTRIA.  165 

she.  •'  And  now,  xir,  leave  thin  room.  I  have  DotUing  more  to  say  to 
you." 

"  What,  Margaret!"  said  Esterhazy,  with  an  incredulous  smile,  "you 
would  deny  me  the  sweet  right  of  visitiug  your  room  ?  Chide,  if  you 
will,  but  be  not  so  cruel.     Let  me  have  the  first  kiss " 

Margaret  uttered  a  fearful  cry,  as  he  attempted  to  put  his  afms, 
around  lier.  Freeing  herself,  with  such  violence  that  Esterhazy  reeled 
backwards  with  the  shock,  she  exclaimed, 

"  You  are  worse  than  a  coward,  for  you  would  take  advantai^e  of 
rights  which  my  hatred  has  annulled  forever." 

"  But,  Margaret,  m j  wife " 

"  Count  Esterhazy,"  said  Margaret,  slq^^ly.  "  I  forbid  you  ever  to  use 
that  word  in  this  room.  Before  the  world  1  will  endure  the  humiliation 
of  being  called  your  wife ;  but  once  over  the  threshold  of  my  own 
room,  I  am  Margaret  Starhemberg,  and  you  shall  never  know  me  as  any 
other  Margaret.     Now  go  !" 

She  pointed  to  the  door,  and  as  the  Count  looked  into  her  face,  whero 
passion  was  so  condensed  that  it  almost  resembled  tranquility,  he  had 
not  the  hardihood  to  persist  He  felt  that  he  had  gained  his  first  and 
last  victory. 

As  soon  as  he  had  passed  the  door,  Margaret  locked  and  bolted  it ; 
then  alone  with  the  supremo  anguish  that  had  been  crushed  for  these  long, 
long  hours,  she  fell  upon  her  knees,  and  wept  until  the  morning  .star 
looked  down  upon  her  agony. 


CHAPTER  XLU. 

PRINCE   LOUIS   DE    ROHAN. 

J 

t 

The  Cardinal  Prince,  Louis  de  Rohan,  French  Ambassador  at  Vien- 
na, had  petitioned  the  Empress  for  a  private  audience,  and  the  honor 
had  been  granted  hici.  It  .was  the  first  time  since  a  year  that  he  had 
enjoyed  this  privilege,  and  the  proud  Prince  had  determined  that  all 
Vienna  should  know  it,  for  all  Vienna  was  fully  aware  of  the  Empress's 
dislike  to  him. 

Accompanied  by  a  brilliant  cortege,  the  Prince  set  out  for  the  palace. 
Six  footmen  stood  behind  his  gilded  carriage,  while  inside,  seated  upon 
cushions  of  white  satin,  the  Prince  dispensed  smiles  to  the  women,  and 
nods  to  the  men,  who  thronged  the  streets  to  get  a  glimpse  of  bis  mag- 
nificence. Four  pages,  in  the  Rohan  livery,  dispensed  silver  coin  to  the 
populace,  while  behind,  came  four  carriages,  bearing  eight  noblemen  of 


iO(>  lOSEPhS  XaiS  SECONDt 

the  proudest  fiimilies  in  France,  and  four  other  carriages  which  bore  the 
household  of  the  hauglity  Priuce  of  church  and  realm,"" 

The  cortege  moved  slowly,  and  the  people  shouted.  From  every 
■window,  burgner's  or  nobleman's,  handsome  women  greeted  the  hand- 
some Cardinal,  who  was  known  to  be  a  connaisseur  in  female  beauty. — 
The  crowd  outside  followed  him  to  the  palace  gates,  and  when  his  car- 
riage stopped,  they  shouted  so  vociferously  that  the  noise  reached  the 
ears  of  the  Empress,  and  so  long,  that  their  shouts  had  not  ceased  when 
the  Cardinal,  leaving  his  brilliant  suite^  was  ushered  into  the  small  recep- 
tion room,  where  Maria  Theresa  awaited  him. 

She  stood  by  the  window,  and  half  turned  her  head  as  the  Prince,  with 
profoundest  salutations,  came  forward.  She  received  his  obseqious  hom- 
age with  a  slight  inclination  of  the  head. 

"Can  your  Eminence  tell  me  the  meaning  of  this  din?"  asked  she, 
curtly.  * 

"  1  regret  not  to  be  able  to  do  so,  your  Ma-jesty.  I  hear  no  din ;  I 
have  heard  nothing  save  the  friendly  greetings  of  your  people,  whose 
piety  edifies  my  heart  as  a  Priest,  and  whose  welcome  is  dear  to  me  as 
a  quasi-s,\xh]ect  of  your  Majesty.  For  the  mother  of  my  future  queen 
must  allow  me  the  right  to  consider  mjself  almost  as  her  subject." 

"I  would  prefer  that  you  considered  yourself  wholly  the  subject  of 
my  daughter ;  as  I  doubt  whether  she  will  ever  find  much  loyalty  in 
your  heart,  Prince.  But  before  we  go  further,  pray  inform  me  what 
means  all  this  parade  attendant  upon  the  visit  of  the  French  Ambassa- 
dor here  to-day?  I  am  not  aware  that  we  are  in  the  carnival,  nor  have 
I  an  unmarried  daughter  for  whom  any  French  Prince  can  have  sent 
"you  to  propose." 

"  Surely  your  Majesty  would  not  compare  the  follies  of  the  Carnival 
with  the  solemnity  of  an  imperial  betrothal,"  said  the  Archbishop,  def- 
erentially. 

"  Be  so  good  as  not  to  evade  my  question.  I  ask  why  you  came  to 
the  palace  with  a  procession  just  fit  to  take  its  place  in  a  Carnival  ?" 

"  Because  the  day  on  which  the  mother  of  th&  Dauphiness  receives 
jfie,  is  a  great  festival  for  me.  I  have  so  long  sued  for  an  audience  that 
when  it  is  granted  me,  I  may  well  be  allowed  to  celebrate  it  with  the 
pomp  which  befits  the  honor  conferred." 

"  And  in  such  a  style  that  all  Vienna  may  know  it,  and  the  rumor  of 
your  audience  reach  the  ears  of  the  Dauphiness  herself." 

"  r  canupt  hope  that  the  Dauphiness  takes  interest  enough  in  the 
French  Ambassador  to  care  whether  he  be  received  at  a  foreign  court 
or  not,"  replied  the  Cardinal,  still  in  his  most  respectful  tone. 

<'  I  request  you  to  come  to  the  point,"  said  Maria  Theresa,  impatient- 
ly. "  Tell  me,  at  pnce,  why  you  have  asked  for  an  audience  ?  What 
seeks  the  French  Ambassador  of  the  Empress  of  Austria  1" 

"  Allow  me  to  say  that  had  I  appeared  to-day  before  your  Majesty  as 

*  In  th&beginninK  of  the  year  '80,  Prince  de  Eohan  was  made  Cardinal  ond  Grand  Almoner  of 
France.  Befnre  that  time,  he  had  been  Archbisliop  of  Strasburg.  Memojres  but  la  vie  priyte  <le 
J^arie  Antoinette,  vol  1,  page  47, 


jfcMl'EiSUK  on  AOaTlUA.  1()7 

the  Fiench  Ambassador,  I  would  have  been  accompanied  by  my  atlach's 
and  received  by  your  I^Iajcsty  in  state.  But  your  Majesty  is  so  gra- 
cious as  to  receive  me  in  private.  It  follows,  therefore,  that  the  Cardi- 
nal de  Rohan,  the  cousin  of  the  Dauphin,  visits  the  imperial  mother  of 
the  young  Dauphiness." 

'=ln  other  words,  you  come  hither  to  con^lain  of  thcDauphincss-con- 
sort ;  again  to  renew  the  unpleasant  topics  which  have  been  the  cause  of 
my  repeated  refusals  to  see  you  here." 

"No,  your  Majesty,  no.  I  deem  it  my  sacred  duty  to  speak  confi- 
dentially to  the  mother  of  the  Dauphiness." 

"If  the  mother  of  the  Dauphincss-consort  will  listen,"  cried  the  proud 
Empress,  sharply  emphasising  the  word  "ajusort." 

"Pardon  me,  your  Majesty,  the  apparent  oversight,"  said  de  Rohan, 
with  a  smile,  "  But  as  a  Prince  of  the  Church,  it  behooves  me,  above 
all  things,  to  be  truthful,  and  the  Dauphiness  of  Franc<^  is  not  yet  Dau- 
phiness-consort.     Your  Majesty  knows  that  as  well  as  I." 

"  I  know  that  my  daughter's  enemies  and  mine  have  succeeded  so  far 
in  keeping  herself  and  her  husband  asunder,"  said  the  Empress,  bitterly. 
"  But  the  Dauphiness  possesses  in  her  beauty,  worth  and  sweetness, 
weapons  wherewith  to  disarm  her  enemies,  if  she  would  but  use  them," 
said  de  Rohan,  with  a  shrug.  "Unhappily  she  makes  no  attempt  to 
disarm  them." 

"  Come — say  what  you  have  to  say  without  so  much  circumlocution," 
cried  Maria  Theresa,  imperiously.  "What  new  complaint  have  the' 
!^rcnch  against  my  daughter?" 

"  Your  Majesty  is  the  only  person  that  can  influence  the  proud  spirit 
of  the  Dauphiness.     Maria  Antoinette   adores  her  mother,  and  your 
Majesty's  advice  will  have  great  weight  with  her." 
"  What  advice  shall  I  give  her?" 

"Advise  her  to  give  less  occasion  to  her  enemies  to  censure  her  lev- 
ity and  her  contempt  of  conventional  forms." 

"Who  dares  to  accuse  my  daughter  of  levity  ?"  said  the  Empres.s, 
her  eyes  flashing  with  angry  pride. 

"Those,  who  in  the  corruption  of  their  own  hearts,  mistake  for  wan- 
tonness, that  which  is  nothing  more  than  the  thoughtlessness  of  unsus- 
pecting innocence." 

"  You  are  pleased  to  speak  in  riddles.  I  am  Maria  Theresa, — not 
Oedipus." 

"I  will  speak  intelligently,"  said  de  Rohan,  with  his^verlasting 
smile.  "There  are  many  things  innocent  in  themselves,  which  do  not 
appear  so  to  worldly  eyes.  Innocence  may  be  attractive  in  a  cottage, 
but  it  is  not  so  in  a  palace.  An  ordinary  woman,  even  of  rank,  has  The 
right,  in  the  privacy  of  her  own  room,  to  indulge  herself  in  childish 
sport;  but  your  Majesty's  self  cannot  justify  your  daughter  when  I  tell 
you  that  she  is  in  the  habit  of  playing  wild  games  with  the  young  la- 
dies who  have  been  selected  as  her  companions." 

"  My  poor,  little  Antoinette  I"  exclaimed  the  Empress,  her  eyes  fiHr 


J (58  ^uaai'B  ihe  seoono. 

7ng  with  compassionate  tears.  *'•  JTer  enemies,  who  do  not  allow  her  to 
be  a  wife,  might  surely  permit  her  tp.  remain  a  child  !  I  have  heard 
before  to-day  of  the  harmless  diversions  which  she  enjoys  with  her 
young  sisters-in-law.  If  there  were  any  sense  of  justice  in  France,  you 
would  understand  that  to  ^use  hjilf-grown  girls,  the  Dauphiness  musjj 
herself  play  the  child.  But  I  know  that  she  has  been  blamed  for  her 
natural  gayety,  poor  darling,  arid  I  know  that  Madame  de  Marsan  will 
never  forgive  her  for  feeling  a  sisterly  interest  in  the  education  of  the 
young  Princesses  of  France,*  1  know  that  the  salons  of  Madam  de 
Marsan  are  a  hot-bed  of  gossip,  and  that  every  action  of  the  DaupKiness 
is  there  distorted  into  crime.f  If  my  lord  Cardinal  has  nothing  else 
to  tell  me,  it  was  scarcely  worth  his  while  to  come  to  the  palace  in  so 
pompous  a  manner,  with  such  a  solemn  face." 

"  I  did  not  come  to  your  Majesty  to  accuse  the  Dauphiness,  but  to 
warn  her  against  her  enemies,  for  unfortunately  she  has  enemies  at 
court.  These  enemies  not  only  deride  her  private  diversions,  but  with 
affectation  of  outraged  virtue,  they  speak  of  recreations,  hitherto  un- 
heard of  at  the  court  of  France." 

"  What  recreations,  pray  "?" 

"The  Dauphiness,  without  the  sanction  of  the  King,  indulges  in  pri- 
vate theatricals." 

"  Private  theatricals !  That  must  be  an  invention  of  her  ene- 
mies." 

"  Pardon  me,  your  Majesty,  it  is  the  truth.  The  Dauphiness  and  her 
married  sisters-in-law,  take  the  female  characters,  and  the  brothers  of  the 
King,  the  male.  Sometimes  Monsieur  de  Campan,  the  Private  Secre- 
tary of  the  deceased  Queen,  and  his  son  who  fills  the  same  office  for  the 
Dauphiness,  join  the  actors.  The  royal  troupe  give  their  entertainments 
in  an  empty  enire-sol,  to  which  the  household  have  no  access.  The 
Count  of  Proyence  plays  the  jeune  premier,  but  the  Count  d'Artois  also 
is  considered  a  good  performer.  I  am  told  that  the  costumes  of  the 
Princesses  are  magnificent,  and  their  rivalry  carried  to  the  extreme." 

The  Empress,  atTecting  not  to  hear  the  last  amiable  remark,  said  : 

"  Who  are  the  audience  ?" 

"  There  is  but  one  spectator,  your  Majesty,  the  Dauphin  himself." 

Maria  Therese's  face  lighted  up  at  once,  and  she  smiled. 

The  Cardinal  went  on:  "The  aunts  of  the  Dauphin,  themselves,  are- 
not  admittPti  to  their  confidence,  lest  they  might  inform  the  King,  and 
his  Majesty  forbid  the  indecorous  representations." 

•'  I  shall  write  to  the  Dauphiness  and  advise  her  to  give  up  these  rep- 
resentations," said  Maria  Theresa,  calmly,  "not  because  they  are  indec- 
orous, but  because  they  are  a  pretext  for  her  enemies.  If  she  has  the 
approbation  of  her  husband,  that  of  itself,  ought  to  suffice  to  the  court, 
for  it  is  not  an  unheard  thing  to  have  dramatic  representations  by  the 
royal  family.     Loui^  XIV.  appeared  on  the  boards  as  a  dancer,  and  even 


*  Madam  de  Marsan  wa=j  their  governeie. 

t  M«moireB  ^e  Mme.  de  Campaa.    Vol.  1,  page  C5. 


BMPEKOK  *JY   aWIKJA  J  6'9 

ujKler  the  pious  Madame  d'Maintenon,  the  princes  and  princesses  of 
France,  acted  the  dranaas  of  Cornell  I  c  and  Racine." 

"  But  they  had  the  permission  of  the  King,  and  none  of  tham  were 
future  queens  " 

"What  of  that?  If  the  Queen  approved  of  the  exhibition,  the  Dau- 
phiness  might  surely  repeat  it.  My  daughter  is  doing  no  more  at  Ver- 
sailles than  she  has  been  accustomed  to  do  atSchonbrunn  in  her  mother's 
presence." 

"  The  etiquette  of  the  two  courts  is  dissimilar,"  said  d'Rohan,  with  a 
shrug.  "  In  Vienna  an  Archduchess  is  permitted  to  do  that,  which  in 
Paris,  would  be  considered  an  impropriety.'* 

"Another  complaint!"  cried  the  Empress,  out  of  patience. 

.^"The  Dauphiness  finds  it  a  bore."  continued  d'Rohan,  "  to  be  ac- 
companied wherever  she  goes  by  two  ladies  of  honor.  She  has,  there- 
fore, been  seen  in  the  palace,  even  in  the  gardens  of  Versailles,  without 
any  escort,  except  that  ot  two  servants," 

"Have  you  come  to  the  end  of  your  complaints?"  said  the  Empress 
scarafely  able  to  control  her  passion. 

"I  have,  your  Majesty.  Allow  me  to  add  that  the  reputation  of  a 
woman  seldom  dies  from  a  single  blow  ;  it  expires  gradually  from  re- 
peated pricks  of  the  needle  ;  and  Queens  are  as  liable  to  such  mortality 
as  other  women."  • 

"  It  ill  becomes  the  Prince  de  Rohan  to  pas?  judgment  upon  the  honor 
of  women,"  cried  Maria  Theresa,  exasperated  by  his  lip-morality.  "If 
the  French  Ambassador  presumes  to  come  to  me  with  such  trivial  com- 
plaints as  I  have  heard  to  day,  I  will  direct  my  Minister  la  Paris  to 
make  representations  to  the  King  of  another  arid  a  more  serious  nature." 

"  Regarding  the  unpardonable  indifference  of  the  Dauphin  to  his  wife?" 
asked  the  Cardinal  with  sympathising  air. 

"  No.  Regarding  the  unpardonable  conduct  of  the  French  Ambassa- 
dor in  Vienna,"  exclaimed  the  Empress.  "  If  the  Cardinal  is  so  shocked 
at  a  slight  breach  of  etiquette,  he  should  be  careful  to  conceal  his  own 
deformities  under  its  sheltering  veil.  Innocence  may  sin  against  cere- 
mony ;  but  he  who  leads  a  dissolute  and  voluptuous  life,  should  make 
decorum  a  shield  wherewith  to  cover  his  own  shame !" 

"  I  thank  your  Majesty  for  this  axiom  so  replete  with  worldly  wis- 
dom. But  for  whom  can  it  be  intended  ?  Certainly  not  for  the  Dau- 
phiness?" 

"  No— for  yburselfj  Prince  and  Cardinal !"  cried  the  Empress,  beside 
herself  with  anger.  "For  the  Prelate  who,  unmindful  of  his  rank  and 
of  its  obligations,  carries  on  his  shameless  intrigues  even  with  the  ladies 
of  my  court  For  the  Ambassador  who,  leading  a  life  of  oriental  mag- 
nificence, is  treading  under  foot  the  honor  of  his  country,  by  living  upon 
the  credulity  of  his  inferiors.  All  Vienna  knows  that  your  household 
make  unworthy  use  of  your  privileges  as  a  foreign  minister  by  import- 
ing goods  free  of  tax,  and  re-selling  them  here.  All  Vienna  knows  Lha^: 
there  are  more  silk  stockings  sold  at  the  hotel  of  the  French  embassy 


than  ill  all  Paris  and  Lyons  together.  The  world  blames  me  for  hav- 
hig  revoked  the  privilege  enjoyed  by  fl)reign  embassies  to  import  their 
clothing  free  of  duty.  It  does  not  know  Uiat  the  abuse  of  this  privilege 
by  yourself  has  foi'ced  me  to  the  measure." 

"  Your  Majesty  is  very  kind  to  take  so  much  trouble  to  investigate 
the  affairs  of  my  household.  You  are  more  o«/aii  to  the  details  than 
myself.  I  was  not  aware  for  iustancej  that  silk  stockings  were  sold  at 
the  embassy^ — no  more  than  I  was  aware  that  I  had  had  any  mnours  with 
the  ladies  of  the  Court.'  I  have  a  very  cold  heart,  and  perhaps  that  is 
the  reason  why  I  have  never  seen  one  to  whom  I  would  devote  a  second 
thought.  As  regards  my  manner  of  living,  I  consider  it  appropriate  to 
my  rank,  titles  and  means ;  and  that  is  all  that  I  feel  i^i  necessary  to 
say  on  the  subject." 

"  You  dispose  of  these  charges  in  a  summary  manner.  To  hear  you, 
one  would  really  suppose  there  was  not  the  slightest  ground  for  reproach 
in  your  life,"  said  the  Empress  satirically. 

"  That  this  is  quite  within  the  range  of  possibility,  is  proved  by  the  case 
of  the  Dauphiness,"  replied  de  Rohan.  "  If  your  Majesty  thinks  so  lit- 
tle of  her  breaches  of  etiquette,  it  seems  to  me  that  mine  are  of  still  less 
consequence.  And  allow  me  to  say  that  the  French  nation  will  sooner 
forgive  me  a  thousand  intrigues  with  the  ladies  of  Vienna,  than  pass 
over  the  smallest  deviation  from  Court  usages  on  the  part  of  the  Dau- 
phiness: Marie  Antoinette  has  defied  them  more  than  once,  and  I  fear 
me,  she  will  bitterly  repent  her  thoughtlessness.  Her  enemies  are 
watchful  and — — " 

"  Oh  I  see  that  they  are  watchful !"  exclaimed  Maria  Theresa,  "I  see 
it.  Do  not  deny  it,  you  are  one  of  those  whose  evil  eyes  see  evil-doing 
in  every  impulse  of  my  dear  defenceless  child's  heart.  But  have  a  care, 
Sir  Cardinal — the  friendless  Dauphiness  will  one  day  be  Queen  of  France, 
and  she  will  then  have  it  in  her  power  to  bring  to  justice  those  who  per- 
secute her  now  !" 

"  I  hope  that  I  will  never  be  accused  of  such  fellowship,"  said  de  Rohan 
for  the  first  time  losing  his  proud  self-possession. 

"  I — the  Empress  of  Austria  accuse  you  to  day  of  it !"  cried  Maria 
Theresa  with  threatening  mien.  *'  Oh  my  lord,  it  does  you  little  honor, 
you  a  royal  personage  and  a  prince  of  the  church,  to  exchange  letters 
with  a  Dubarry,  to  whose  shameless  ears  you  defame  the  mother  of 
your  future  Queen  !" 

V  "  When  did  I  do  this"?  When  was  I  so  lost  to  honor  as  to  speak  a 
disrespectful  word  of  the  Empress  of  Austria  ?" 

"Ah!  you  deny  it — do  you? — Let  me  tell  you  that  your  praise^or 
your  blame  are  all  one  to  me  ;  and  if  I  have  granted  you  this  interview 
it  was  to  show  you  how  little  I  am  disturbed  by  your  censorious  lan- 
guage. 1  know  something  of  the  intriguing  at  Versailles.  I  have  even 
neard  of  the  private  orgies  of  the  "  Oeil  de  boeuf,"  where  Louis  enter- 
tains his  favorites,  and  I  will  tell  you  what  took  place  at  the  last  one. 
*  Memoirps  do  Mme.  de  Campan.   Vol.  1,  p.  41, 


EMPEKOK  OPmUSTBLA  171 

The  Countess  Dubarry  was  diverting  the  company  with  accounts  of  the 
hypocrisy  of  the  Empress  of  Anstri;*,  and  to  prove  it,  she  drew  a  letier 
from  her  pocket-book  saying  :  '  Hear  what  the  Cardinal  de  Rohan  says 
about  her.'  Now  Cardinal,  do  you  still  deny  that  you  correspond  wiih 
her  ?" 

'•  I  do  deny  it,"  said  the  Prince  firmly.  "  I  deny  that  I  ever  have 
written  her  a  word." 

The  Empress  took  from  her  pocket  a  paper,  and  read  as  follows : 
"  True,  I  have  seen  Maria  Theresa  weeping  over  the  fate  of  Poland  ;  but 
this  Sovereign,  who  is  such  an  adept  in  the  art  of  dissimulation,  appears 
to  have  tears  and  sighs  at  her  command.  In  one  hand  she  holds  her 
pocket-handkerchief,  and  in  the  other,  the  sword  with  which  she  cuts  oft' 
a  third  of  that  unhappy  country."*  '"  Now  Sir  Cardinal,  upon  your  sacred 
honor,  did  you,  or  did  you  not,  write  these  words  1" 

The  Prince  turned  pale,  and  grasped  the  arm  of  the  chair  on  which 
he  sat. 

"  Upon  your  honor,  and  your  conscience,  before  God," — reiterated  the 
Empress, 

The  Cardinal  raised  his  eyes  slowly,  and  in  a  low  voice  said,  "  I  dare 
not  deny  it,  1  wrote  them.  In  an  unlucky  hour  I  wrote  them,  but  not 
to  Dubarry." 

"To  whom  then ?^' 

"  To  one  who  has  betrayed  me  to  Dubarry.  Far  be  it  from  me  to 
name  him.  I  alone  will  bear  the  weight  of  your  Majesty's  tdispleasu re, 
I  aloue  am  the  culprit." 

"I  know  of  no  culprit  in  the  matter,"  replied  Maria  Theresa,  throwing 
back  her  stately  head.  "  I  stand  before  God  and  before  the  worH,  and 
every  man  has  a  right  to  pass  sentence  upon  my  actions — even  the  Car- 
dinal de  Rohan.  I  merely  wish  to  show  him,  that  the  Dauphiness  and 
her  mother  both  know  what  to  expect  of  his  Eminence." 

"  The  Dauphiness  knows  of  this  letter !"  cried  de  Rohan. 

"  It  is  she  who  sent  me  this  copy." 

The  Prince  bowed  his  head  down  upon  his  hands.  " I amlost,"  mur- 
mured he. 

The  Empress  surveyed  him  with  mistrust.  Such  emotion  on  the  part 
of  such  a  man  astonished  her,  and  she  doubted  its  sincerity.  "  VVhy 
this  comedy,  Prince  ?"  said  she.  "  I  have  already  told  you  that  I  am 
indifferent  to  your  opinion." 

"  But  the  Dauphiness  will  never  forgive  me,"  said  he  uncovering  his 
face.  "  My  contrition  is  no  comedy,  for  I  look  with  prophetic  eyes  into 
the  future,  and  there  I  see  anguish  and  tears." 

"  For  whom,"  said  Maria  Theresa  scornfully. 

"  For  me,  and  perchance  for  the  Dauphiness.    She  considers  me  her 

enemy  and  will  treat  me  as  such.     But  hatred,  is  a   two-edged    sword 

which  is  as  apt  to  wound  the  one  who  holds  it  as  well  as  the  one  for 

whom  it  is  unsheaihed.     Oh,  your  Majesty!  warn  the  Dauphiness.     She 

*  Memoirs  de  Weber  lioncemant  Mario  AntoineUe,  Vol.  8,  page  806. 


172  rftWitttJ   tHl!.  t)KCUM> 

stonds  upon  the  brow  of  a  precipice,  and  if  she  do  not  recede,  her  ene- 
mies \vi41  thrust  her  headlong  into  the  abyss  below.  Marie  Antoinette 
is  an  angel  of  innocence  and  chasftity,  but  the  world  in  which  she  lives 
does  not  understand  the  h'.ngnage  of  angels  ;  and  the  wicked  will  soil 
her  wings  that  her  puiily  may  not  be  ji  roproa.ih  to  their  own  foulness. 
Warn  the  Dauphiness  to  bewara  of  her  enemies  ;  but  as  God  hears 
me,  I  am  not  one  of  thera.  Marij  Antoinette  will  never  belieVe  me, 
find  therefore  my  fate  is  sealed.  1  beg  leave  of  your  Majesty  to  with- 
draw;." 

Without  awaiting  the  answer,  the  Prince  bowed  and  retired.  Maria 
Theresa  looked  thoughtfully  after  him,  and  long  after  he  had  closed  the 
door,  she  remained  standing  in  the  centre  of  the  room  a  prey  to  the  anx- 
ious misgivings  which  his  visit  had  kindled  in  her  heart. 

"  He  is  right,"  said  she,  after  a  time.  "She  wanders  upon  'the  edge 
of  a  precipice,  and  I  must  save  her.  But  oh,  my  God  !  Where  shall  1 
find  a  friend  who  will  love  her  enough  to  brave  her  displeasure,  and,  in 
the  midst  of  the  flattery  which  Rurrounus  her,  will  raise  the  honest  voice 
of  reproof  and  censure?  Ah  she  is  so  unhappy,  my  little  Antoinette, 
and  I  have  no  power  to  help  her !  Oh,  ray  God  !  succor  my  perse- 
cuted child !" 


CHAPTER  XUIf. 

THE   rOlKS   AT    VIRNTtA. 

The  three  Powers  which  had  lived  so  long  at  variance,  had  united 
themselves  in  one  common  cause,  the  pacification  of  Poland.  In  vain 
had  Stanislaus  refused  his  assent  to  their  friendly  intervention  :  in  vain 
had  he  appealed  to  England  and  France  for  help.  Neither  of  these 
Powers  was  willing,  for  the  sake  of  unhappy  Poland,  to  become  in- 
volved in  a  war  with  three  nations,  who  were  ready  to  hurl  their  consol- 
idated strength  against  any  sovereign  who  would  have  presumed  to  dis- 
pute their  joint  action. 

In  vain  King  Stanislaus  began  by  swearing,  that  sooner  than  consent 
to  the  dismemberment  of  Poland,  he  would  lose  his  right  hand.  The 
three  Powers,  tired  of  his  impotent  struggles,  informed  him,  through 
their  envoys  at  Warsaw,  that  there  were  limits  to  the  moderation  which 
decorum  prescribed  to  governments — that  they  stood  upon  these  limits 
and  awaited  his  speedy  acquip.sceiice  to  the  act  of  partition.*  The  Rus- 
sian Empress  added  to  thij  that,  if  Stanislaus  did  not  call  a  convention 
.  ^  PlUumer's  Contrlbnltoiw  to Modsrn ElafDry.    Vol,  4,.p«g«M«. 


KMi'EKUH  or   AUSTRIA  173 

of  the  Polish  Diet  to  rpcocrnifse  th^  net,  she  would  devastate  his  land,  so 
that  he  vvouid  not  have  a  ii'\er  sr.'.   n  Idt  Xo  hu:i.'* 

The  unhappy  Kin^ had  ro  loncer  i'■^  r.^rve  to  brave  such  terrific 
threats.  He  submitted  to  the  will  of  his  tyranr^,  and  eame  in  as  a 
fourth  Power,  eager  to  obtain  as  much  »»  he  could  for  his  own  individual 
advantage. 

The  wretched  Poles  toolt  no  notice  of  the  edicts  of  a  IvMig,  who  had 
beeu  forced  upon  them  by  a  strange  sovereign.  Only  a Ibw  cowards 
and  hirelings  obeyed  the  call  for  a  convention  ;  .so  that  in  all,  there  were 
only  thirty-six  members,  who,  under  the  surveillance  of  Austrian  and 
Prussian  Ilupsars.  signed  their  nnineH  to  the  act  of  partition. 

The  King  of  Prussia  received  Pomerelia  and  the  distiictof  Nantz; 
Russia  took  Leionia  and  several  important  way  wodeships  ;  and  Austria 
obtained  the  county  of  Zips,  a  portion  of  Galicia  and  of  Lodomeria,  and 
half  of  the  Palatinate  of  Cracow. 

Here  and  there  an  isolated  voice  was  raised  to  protest  against  the 
stupendous  robbery  ;  but  it  was  lost  amid  the  clash  of  arms  and  the 
tread  of  soldiery.  Whenever  a  word  was  spoken  that  fretted  the  sensi- 
bilities of  Austria  or  Prussia,  Cathnrino  said  she  was  willing  to  bear  all 
the  blame  of  the  thing  ;  and  laughing  heartily,  she  called  the  protests 
that  were  sent  on  the  bulject,  ^' moutarde  aprcs  diner.^^  Frederic  resort- 
ed to  self  deception,  proclaiiping  to  tlie  world  "  that  for  the  first 
time  the  King  and  the  Republic  of  Poland  were  established  on  a  firm 
basis  ;  that  they  could  now  apply  themselves  in  peace  to  the  construc- 
tion of  such  a  government  as  would  tend  to  preserve  the  balance  of 
power  between  proximate  nations,  and  prevent  them  from  clashing. "f 

The  Poles,  in  silent  rancor,  submiited  to  their  fate,  and  took  the  oath 
of  allegiance  to  iheir  oppressors.  Now  boundary  lines  wer<»  drawn,  and 
new  names  assigned  to  the  sundered  provinces  of  the  dismembered 
fatherland.  The  citadels  were  given  over  to  their  foreign  masters,  and 
now  the  deed  was  consuminated. 

Even  Maria  Theresa  rejoiced  to  know  it,  and  whether  to  relieve  her 
burthened  heart,  or  to  pretend  to  the  world  that  she  approved  of  the 
transaction,  she  ordered  a  solemn  Te  Deum  to  be  sung  in  the  Cathedral 
of  St.  Stephen,  in  commemoration  of  the  event. 

The  entire  court  was  to  assist  at  this  ceremony,  after  which  the  Em- 
press was  to  recei^ve  the  oath  exacted  from  those  of  her  new  su^DJects 
who  desired  to  retain  possession  of  their  property. 

The  ladies  of  the  court  were  in  the  ante-room  awaiting  the  entrance 
of  the  Sovereigns.  Their  handsome,  rouged  faces  were  bright  with  sat- 
isfaction,  for  they  all  had  suffered  from  the  misery  which,  for  a  year 
past,  had  been  endured  by  their  imperial  mistress.  Now  they  might 
look  forward  to  serene  skies  and  a  renewal  of  court  festivities,  and  they 
congratulated  one  another  in  triumpii. 

But  they  were  caut.ious  not  to  give  too  audible   expression  to   their 

•  Eanmer'i  Oontribntinns  to  Modem  Hiitory,    Vol.4,  pace 607, 
t  EanmCT'tCoutritratiOTW, page M». 


174  iOSEPfl  lUK  SEOUNO. 

hopes.  They  whispered  their  exptctations  of  pleasure,  now  and  then 
castiag  stolen  glances  at  a  tall  figure  in  black,  whicli,  sorrowful  and 
alone,  stood  tearfully  regardiag  the  crowds  in  the  streets  who  were  hur- 
rying to  church  to  celebrate  her  country's  downfall.  This  was  the 
Countess  Von  Salmour,  governess  to  the  Archduchess  Marianna.  Like 
the  other  ladies  of  the  palace,  she  was  to  accompany  the  Empress  to 
the  Cathedral,  hut  it  was  clear  to  all  beholders  that  to  her  this  was  a 
day  of  supreme  humiliation. 

The  great  bell  of  St.  Stephen's  announced  to  her  people  that  the  Em-^ 
press  was  about  to  leave  the  palace.  The  folding-doors  were  flung  open  " 
and  she  appeared  leaning  on  the  arm  of  the  Emperor,  followed  by  the 
princes,  princesses,  generals,  and  statesmen  of  her  realms.  Silently  the 
ladies  of  honor  arranged  themselves  on  either  side  of  the  room  to  let 
the  imperial  family  pass  by.  Maria  Theresa's  eyes  glanced  hastily 
around,  and  fell  upon  the  pale,  wan  features  of  the  Countess  Von  Sal- 
mour. ^ 

All  eyes  now  sought  the  face  of  the  unhappy  lady,  whose  sad,  mourn- 
ing garments  were  in  such  striking  contrast  with  the  magnificent  dresses 
of  the  ladies  around  her. 

"Madam  Von  Salmour,"  said  the  Empress,  " I  dispense  you  from 
your  duties  for  this  day.    You  need  not  accompany  the  court  to  church." 

The  Countess  curtsied  deeply,  and  replied,  "  Your  Majesty  is  right 
.to  e,\cuse  me,  for  had  1  gone  with  the  court  to  church,  I  might  have  been 
tempted  to  utter  treason  to  heaven  against  the  oppressors  of  my  coun- 
try." 

The  company  were  aghast  at  the  audacity  of  the  rejoinder,  but  the 
Empress  replied  with  great  mildness, 

"  You  are  right ;  for  the  temptation  would  indeed  be  great,  and  it  is 
noble  of  you  to  speak  the  truth.     I  respect  your  candor." 

She  was  about  to  pass  on,  but  paused  as  though  she  had  forgotten 
something. 

"  Is  the  Countesa  Wielopolska  in  Vienna"?"  asked  she. 

"She arrived  yesterday,  your  Majesty." 

"  Go  to  her  while  we  are  at  church,"  said  Maria  Theresa,  compassion- 
ately. 

Madam  Von  Salmour  glanced  towards  the  Emperor,  who  with  an  ex- 
pression of  painful  embarrassment,  was  listening  to  their  conversation. 

"  Pardon  me,  your  Majesty,"  said  the  lady,  "  the  Countess  Wielopol- 
ska is  making  preparations  for  a  journey,  and  she  receives  no  one. 
We  parted  yesterday.    To-morrow  she  leaves  Vienna  forever." 

"  I  am  glad  that  she  intends  to  travel,"  said  Maria  Theresa,  approv- 
ingly. "  It  will  divert  her  mind ;"  and  with  a  friendly  smile,  she  took 
leave  of  the  governess,  and  passed,  on. 

Joseph  followed  with  wildly  throbbing  heart ;  and  neither  the  trium- 
phant strains  of  the  Te  Deum,  nor  the  congratulatory  shouts  of  his  sub- 
jects, could  bring  back  serenity  to  his  stormy  brow.  He  knelt  before 
(,he  altar,  and  with  burning  shame,  thought  of  his  first  entry  into  St. 


SMl'EliOK  OF  AOSTRlA.  175 

Stephen's  as  Emperor  of  Austria.  It  hfld  been  the  anniversary  of  the 
deliverance  of  Vienna  by  John  Sobieski  and  his  Poles;  and  in  the  self- 
same ?pot  where  the  Emperor  had  thanked  God  for  this  deliverance,  he 
now  knelt  in  acknowledgement  for  the  new  principalities  which  were  the 
fruits  of  his  own  ingratitude  to  Poland. 

From  these  painful  and  humiliating  retrospections,  the  Emperor's 
thoughts  wandered  to  the  beautiful  being  who,  like  a  Hamadryad,  had 
blended  her  lifij  with  the  tree  of  Polish  liberty.  He  thought  of  that 
face,  whose  pallid  splendor  reminded  him  of  the  glories  of  waning  day. 
and  he  listened  through  the  long,  dirn  aisles  of  memory,  to  the  sound  of 
that  enchanting  voice,  whose  melody  had  won  his  heart  long  ago  on 
that  first,  happy  evening  at  Neustadt. 

The  Countess  AVielopolska  was  leaving  Vienna  forever,  and  yet  there 
was  DO  message  for  him.  A  longing,  that  seemed  to  drown  him  in  the 
flood  of  its  intensity,  rushed  over  his  soul.  He  would  fly  to  her  pres- 
ence and  implore  her  to  forgive  the  chant  of  victory  that  was  rejoicing 
over  her  country's  grave!  Oh,  the  crash  of  that  stunning  harmony, 
how  it  maddened  him,  as  kneeling,  he  listened  to  its  last  exnUant  notes  ! 
It  was  over,  and  Joseph  scarcely  knew  where  ho  was,  until  his  mother 
laid  her  hand  upon  his  shoulder  and  motioned  him  to  rise. 

In  the  great  reception-room,  with  all  the  pomp  of  imperial  splendor, 
Maria  Theresa  sat  upon  her  throne  and  received  the  homage  of  her  new 
subjects.  Each  one,  as  he  passed,  knelt  before  the  powerful  Empress, 
and  as  he  rose,  the  Chief  Marshal  of  the  household,  announced  his  name 
and  rank. 

This  ceremony  over,  Maria  Theresa  descended  from  the  throne  to 
greet  her  Polish  subjects  in  a  less  formal  manner.  No  one  possessed 
to  a  greater  degree  than  herself,  the  art  of  bewitching  those  whom  she 
desired  to  propitiate  ;  and  today,  though  her  youth  and  beauty  were  no 
longer  there  to  heighten  the  charms  of  her  address,  her  elegant  carriage, 
her  ever-splendid  eyes,  and  graceful  afflibility,  were  as  potent  to  win 
hearts  as  ever.  Discontent  vanished  from  the  faces  of  the  Poles,  and 
by  and  by  they  gathered  into  groups,  in  which  were  mingled  Hunga- 
rians, Italians  and  Austrians,  all  the  subjects  of  that  one  great  Empress. 
The  majority  of  the  Poles  had  adopted  the  French  costume  of  the 
day.  Few  had  possessed  the  hardihood  to  appear  before  their  new  sov- 
ereign in  their  rich,  national  dress.  Among  these  few  was  an  old  man 
of  tall  stature  and  distinguished  appearance,  who  attracted  the  attention 
of  every  one  present. 

While  his  countrymen  unbent  their  brows  to  the  sunshine  of  Maria 
Theresa's  gracious  words,  he  remained  apart  in  the  recess  of  a  window. 
With  scowling  mien  and  folded  arms,  he  surveyed  the  company  ;  nor 
could  the  Empress,  herself,  obtain  from  him  more  than  a  haughty  in- 
clination of  the  head. 

The  Emperor  was  conversing  gaily  with  two  Polish  noblemen,  whose  . 
cheerful  demeanor  bore  evidence  to'  the  transitory  nature  of  their  na-  ' 
lional  griei;  when  he  observed  this  old  Cfian. 

\ 


ft 


176  idSEi'H  IHJt  tiJECOKl* 

"  Can  you  tell  me,"  said  he,  "  the  name  of  yonder  proud  and  angry 
nobleman  ?"• 

The  faces  of  the  two  grew  scarlet,  as  following  the  direction  of  the 
Emperor's  finger,  they'  saw  the  eyes  of  the  old  man  fixed,  with  t>corn, 
upon  their  smiling  countenances. 

"That,"  said  one  of, them,  uneasily,  "is  Count  Kanuienski." 

"  Ah,  the  old  partisan  leader !"  exclaimed  the  Emperor.  "  As  he  does 
not  seem  inclined  to  come  to  me,  I  will  go  forward  and  greet  him  myself." 

So. saying,  Joseph  crossed  over  to  the  window  where  the  old  Count 
was  standing.     He  received  him  with  a  cold,  solemn  bow. 

"  I  rejoice  to  meet  Count  Kaunienski,  and  to  express  to  him  my  esteem 
for  his  character,"  began  the  Emperor,  reaching  out  his  hand. 

The  Count  did  not  appear  to  perceive  the  gesture,  and  merely  made 
a  silent  bow.  But  Joseph  would  not  be  deterred  from  his  purpose  by 
a  hauteur  which  he  knew  very  well  how  to  excuse. 

"Is  this  your  first  visit  to  Vienna*?"  asked  he. 

"  My  first  and  last.visit,  sire." 

"  Arc  you  pleased  with  the  Austrian  capital  V 

"  No,  your  Majesty,  Vienna  does  not  please  me." 

The  Emperor  smiled.  Instead  of  being  irritated  at  the  haughtiness 
with  which  his  advances  were  met,  he  felt  both  respect  and  sympathy 
for  the  noble  old  man  who  disdained  to  conceal  his  discontent  from  the 
eyes  of  the  sovereign  himself. 

"  I  wonder  that  you  do  not  like  Vienna.  It  has  great  attractions  for 
strangers,  and  you  meet  so  many  of  your  countrymen  here  just  now. — 
There  never  were  as  many  Poles  in  Vienna  before." 

An  angry  glance  shot  athwart  the  face  of  the  old  man.  "  There  were 
many  more  when  John  Sobieski  delivered  Vienna  from  the  hands  of  Aer 
enemies,"  said  he.  "  But  that  is  ahnogt  a  hundred  years  ago,  and  the 
memory  of  princes  does  not  extend  so  far.  to  the  obligations  of  the 
past.*  But,"  continued  he,  more  courteously,  "  I  did  not  come  here  to 
speak  of  my  country.  We  must  be  resigned  to  the  fate  apportioned  to 
us  by  Providence,  and  you  see  how  readily  my  countrymen  adapt 
themselves  to  the  vicissitudes  of  their  national  life." 

"  And  yet,  Count,  their  smiles  are  less  pleasing  to  me  than  your 
frowns.  In  spite  of  the  present,  I  cherish  the  past,  and  honor  those  who 
mourn  over  the  misfortunes  of  their  native  land." 

The  old  man  was  touched,  and  looked  at  the  handsome,  expressive  face 
of  the  Emperor.  "  Sire,"  said  he,  sadly,  "  if  Stanislaus  had  resemble4 
you,  Poland  would  have  beeh  free.  But  I  have  riot  come  hither  to-day 
to  whine  over  the  unalterable  past.  Nor  did  I  come  to  pay  homage  to 
the  Empress." 

Nevertheless  the  Empress  would  rejoice  to  become  acquainted  with 
the  brave  Count  Kannienski.     Allow  me  Count,  to  present  you." 

♦  This  whole  converaation  ia  historical.  It  "was  often  related  by  the  Emperor,  who  said  that  he 
had  been  so  touched  by  Count  Kanuienski's  patriotiam  and  boldness,  that  but  for  the  fe«r  of  a  ro- 
pnlte,  h«  wonM  hare  embraced  him.   gwinbtirne,  vol.  1.  page  849. 


EMPISKUK  Of   aUiSTKlA  j-^ 

Kannienski  shook  his  gray  locks.  "  No,  sire,  I  came  to  Vienna  purelv 
for  the  sake  of  a  woman  who  will  die  under  the  weight  of  this  dav's 
anguish.^   I  came  to  console  her  with  what  poor  consolation  I  have  to 

"  Is  she  a  Pole  ?"  asked  Joseph,  anxiously. 

"Yes,  sire:  sh^.  is  the  last  true-hearted  Polish  woman  left  on  eafth 
and  I  fear  she  is  about  to  die  upon  the  grave  of  her  fatherland  "  ' 

"  May  I  ask  her  name  T' 
"  Countess  Anna  Wielopolska.     She  it  is  who  sent  me  to  the  palace 

and  1  came  because  she  asked  of  me  one  last  friendly  service  "  ' 

"  You  bring  me  a  message  1"  faltered  the  Emperor 

"The  Countess  begs  to  remind  the  Emperor  of  the  promise  he  made 
on  the  day  when  the  Empress  signed  the  act  of " 

"  I  remember,"  interrupted  the  Emperor, 

"She  asks,  if  mindful  of  his  promise,  he  will  visit  her  to-morrow  af- 
ternoon at  SIX  o'clock."  "nuw  ai 

"  Where  shall  I  find  her?" 

"  In  the  very  same  room  which  she  occupied  before.  I  have  delivered 
my  message.     Your  Majesty  will,  therefore,  permit  me  to  withdraw  " 

fi,  w'J  -A^  ^"'"^^  ^"^Y-  ^'^^^^  ^"^  P''°"<^'y  he  made  his  'way 
through  the  giddy  crowd,  without  a  word  of  recognition  for  the  frivo- 
lous  Poles,  who  saluted  him  as  he  passed. 

"He  is  the  last  PoHsh  hero,  as  she  is  the  last  Polish  heroine,"  sighed 
the  Emperor,  as  he  followed  the  old  man  with  his  eyes.  "  Our  destinv 
IS  accomplished.    She  would  bid  me  a  last  farewell." 


CHAPTER  XLIV. 

THE   LAST    FAREWELL. 

CouNTEsg  Anxa  Wielopolska  was  alone  in  her  room,  which,  like  her- 
rarn J^'  A  ^u  'T'""^  ^."^^  ^reat  and  distinguished  guest.  A  rich 
carpet  covered   the  floor,   flowers   bloomed  in  Mostly  vases  the  niano 

7ounZ:.t  ?^  '''  r^''  "."  ''''^''^'  ^^^"^^  ^^'  "^he  (SinTess'stUl 
found  consolation  m  her  genius.     But  she,  herself,  was  strangely  altered 

ZS   Ve't^f   she  had  thrown  her  boquet  to  the   Em'p:;^^^^^^^^ 
iNeustadt.     Nevertheless,  she  wore  the  same  dress  of  black  velvet    the 

;ira^LTir^,rin°""'  "■'  ^--^  ""o"'' "' "-"» --■  "--^ 

Her  heart  beat  high,  and   her  anxious  eyes  wandered  to  the  little 

J2 


178  JUSKl'li    IHK  6K(JUM> 

bronze  clock  that  stood  upon  a  console  opposite.     Tlie   clock  struck  six, 
and  her  pale  cheeks  flushed  with  anticipated  happiness. 

"  It  is  the  hour,"' said  she.  "1  shall  see  him  once  more."  And  as 
she^poke  a  carriage  stopped,  and  she  heard  his  step  within  the  vesti- 
bule below.  TiOQibling,  in  every  limb,  she  approached  the  door,  aiid 
btnb  h(r  ear  to  listen. 

"  Yes,  becomes,"  whispered  she,  while,  with  a  gesture  of  extreme  ag- 
itation, she  drew  from  her  pocket  a  little  case,  from  whence  she  took  a 
tiny  flask,  containing  a  transparent,  crimson  liquid.  She  held  it  for  a 
few  seconds  to  the  light,  and  now  she  could  hear  the  sound  of  his  voice, 
.as  bespoke  with  Matuschka  in  the  ante-room.  The  steps  came  nearer 
and  nearer  yet. 

"It  is  time,"  murmured  she,  and  hastily  moving  the  golden  capsule 
that  covered  the  phial,  she  put  it  to  her  lips  and  drank  it  to  the  last  drop. 

"  One  hour  of  happiness,"  said  she,  replacing  the  phial  in  her  pocket, 
and  hastening  back  to  the  door. 

It  was  opened,  a.nd  the  Emperor  entered  the  room.  Anna  met  him 
with  both  hands  outstretched,  and  smiled  with  unmistakable  love  as  he 
came  forward  to  greet  her.  Silent,  but  with  visible  agitation,  the  Em- 
peror looked  into  those  eyes  which  were  already  resplendent  with  the 
glory  of  approaching  death.  Long  they  gazed  upon  each  other  without 
a  word,  yet  speaking  love  with  eyes  and  lips. 

Suddenly  the  Emperor  dropped  her  hands,  and  laying  his  own  gently 
upon  her  cheeks,  he  drew  down  her  head,  and  rested  it  upon  his  breast. 
She  left  it  there  and  looked  up  with  a  tender  smile. 

"  Do  not  speak,  love,"  said  he,  gently.  "  I  am  an  astrologer,  who 
looks  into  his  heaven  to  read  the  secrets  there."  "  And,  oh,"  sighed  he, 
after  iie  had  gazed  for,  a  time,  "  I  see  sorrow  and  suffering  written  upon 
that  snowy  brow.  Tears  have  dimmed  the  splendor  of  my  stars,  but 
they  have  not  been  able  to  lessen  their  beauty.  I  know  you  apain,  my 
queen  of  the  night,  as  you  first  appeared  to  me  at  Neustadt.  You  are 
still  the  same  proud  being,  Anna." 

*'  No,  dearest,  no.  I  am  a  trembling  woman,  craving  nothing  from 
earth  save  the  glance  of  my  beloved,  and  the  privilege  of  dying  in  his 
embrace." 

"  She  who  loves  desires  to  live  for  her  lover,"  said  he,  pressing  her 
again  and  again  to  his  heart. 

"  Death  is  the  entrance  to  eternal  life,  and  she  who  truly  loves,  will 
love  throughout  eternity." 

"  Speak  not  of  death  in  this  hour  of  ecstacy,  when  I  have  found  you 
once  more  as  I  had  pictured  you  in  dreams.  Oh,  Anna^s^aia !  will  you 
part  me  from  you  again?  Have  you  indeed  brought  me  hither  to  cheat 
me  with  visions  of  love,  and  then  to  say  farewell  forever  !" 

"  No,  Joseph,  I  bid  you  eternal  welcome. .  Oh,  my  lover,  my  soul 
has  gone  forth  to  meet  yours,  and  nothing  shall  ever  part  us  again." 

"  And  are  you  mine  at  last !"  cried  Joseph,  kissing  her  passionately. 
*'  Has  the  statue  felt  the  ray  of  lovp,  and  uttered  its  first  sweet  sound  f 


EMPKKOK  OP   AUSTRIA  179 

Oh,  how  I  have  longed  to  hear  that  sound  !  I  have  gone  about  by  day, 
wearing  the  weight  of  sovereignty  upon  ray  fainting  shoulders,  and  bv 
night  i  have  wept  like  a  love-sick  boy  for  your  sake,  Anna,  but  no  one 
suspected  it.     No  one  knew  that  the  Emperor  was  unhappy." 

"  I  knew  it,"  whispered  she.  "  J  knew  it,  for  your  sorrows  have  ail 
been  mine." 

"No,  no!"  cried  Joseph,  awaking  from  his  dream  of  bliss,  "you  told 
me  that  Poland  was  dearer  to  you  than  I.  I  remember  it  now!  You 
refused  me  your  hand,  and  forsook  me  for  the  sake  of  your  country." 

"  But,  now,  beloved,"  said  she,  clinging  to  him,  "  row  I  am  but  a  wo- 
man— a  woman  who  abandons  her  fitherland  with  all  its  memories,  and 
asks  but  one  blessing  of  heaven — the  blessing  of  living  and  dying  in 
her  lover's  arms." 

"  Oh,  if  you  would  not  kill  me,  speak  no  more  of  dying,  Anna!  Now 
you  arc  mine,  mine  for  life  ;  and  my  heart  leaps  with  joy  as  it  did  when 
first  I  heard  your  heavenly  voice.  Let  me  hear  it  once  more.  Sing  to 
me,  my  treasure." 

She  went  to  the  harpsichord,  and  the  Emperor  bent  over  her,  smiling 
as  he  watched  the  motion  of  her  graceful  hands  upon  the  keys.  She 
struck  a  few. full  chords,  and  then  glided  into  a  melody  of  melancholy 
sweetness.  The  Emperor  listened  attentively  ;  then,  suddenly  smiling, 
he  recognized  the  song  which  she  had  sung  before  the  King  of  Prussia 
and  himself. 

The  words  were  different  now.  They  represented  Poland  as  a  beg- 
gard  queen,  wandering  from  door  to  door,  repulsed  by  all.  She  is 
starving,  but  she  remembers  that  death  will  release  her  from  shame 
and  hunger." 

The  Countess  was  singing  these  lines, 

"  If  life  to  her  had  brought  disgrace, 
Honor  returns  with  death's  embrace " 

■when  she  stopped,  and  her  hands  fell  powerless  from  the  instrument. — 
The  Emperor  raised  her  head,  and  saw,  with  alarm,  that  her  face  was 
distorted  by  pain.  Without  a  word,  he  took  her  in  his  arms,  and  carry- 
ing her  across  the  room,  laid  her  gently  upon  the  sofa.  She  raised  her 
loving  eyes  to  his^  and  tried  to  steal  her  arm  around  his  neck,  but  it  fell 
heavily  to  her  side.  Joseph  saw  it,  and  a  pang  of. apprehension  shook 
his  manly  frame. 

"  Anna,"  groaned  he,  "  what  means  this  1" 

•'  Honor  returns  with  death's  embrace,"  whispered  she. 

The  Emperor  uttered  a  savage  cry,  and  raised  his  despairing  arms  to 
heaven.  "  And  it  was  false,"  cried  he,  almost  mad  with  grief,  "it  was 
false!  She  had  not  forgotten  Poland.  Oh,  cruel,  cruel  Anna  !"  And 
he  sobbed  piteously,  while  she  strove  to  put  her  trembling  hand  upon 
his  head. 

"  Cruel  to  myself,  Joseph,  for  I  have  just  begun  to  value  life.  '  But  I 
swore  to  my  mother  that  I  would  not  outlive  the  disgrace  of  Poland, 
and  you  would  have  ceased  to  love  me  bad  I  violated   my  oath.    For- 


180  JOSEPH   THE  SECOND 

give  the  pain  I  inflict  upon  you,  dearest.  I  longed  for  one  single  hour 
of  happiness,  and  I  have  found  it  here.  With  my  dying  breath  I  bless 
you." 

"  Is  there  no  remedy  ?"  asked  he,  scarcely  able  to  speak. 

"  None,"  said  she,  with  a  fluttering  smile.  *'  I  obtained  the  poison 
from  Cagliostro.  Nay — dear  one,  do  not  weep  ;  you  see  that  I  could 
not  live.  Oh,  do  not  hide  your  face  from  me,  let  me  die  with  my  eyes 
fixed  upon. yours!" 

"  And,"  cried  Joseph,  "  must  I  live  forever." 

"  You  must  live  for  your  subjects — live  to  be  great  and  good,  yet 
ever  mistrusted,  ever  misunderstood.  But  forward,  my  Prince,  and  the 
blessing  of  God  be  upon  you !  Think,  too,  that  the  Poles,  my  breth- 
ren, are  among  your  subjects,  and  promise  me  to  love  and  cherish 
them." 

"  I  promise." 

" Try  to  reconcile  them  to  their  fate — do  not  return  their  ill-will ; 
swear  to  me  that  you  will  be  clement  to  my  countrymen." 

"  I  swear !  I  swear  to  respect  their  misfortunes,  and  to  make  them 
happy." 

One  last  beaming  smile  illumined  her  face.  "  Thank  you — dearest," 
said  she,  with  difficulty.  "  My  spirit  shall  look  out  from  the  eye  of 
every  Pole,  to  whom  you  will  have  given — one  moment — of  joy  !  Oh, 
what  agony  !     FareWell !" 

One  more  look — one  shudder — and  all  was  was  still. 

The  Emperor  fell  upon  his  knees  by  the  body,  and  prayed  long  and 
fervently.  The  little  clock  struck  seven.  The  hour  of  happiness  had 
passed  away  forever. 

The  following  day,  Joseph,  pale  but  perfectly  calm,  sought  an  inter- 
view with  his  mother. 

"  I  come  to  ask  leave  of  absence  of  your  Majesty,"  said  he,  languidly. 

"  Leave  of  absence,  my  son  ?  Do  you  wish  to  travel  again  so  soon  ?" 

"  I  must  travel,  your  Majesty.  I  must  make  a  journey  to  Galicia  to 
become  acquainted  with  our  new  subjects." 

"  Perhaps  it  might  be  as  well  for  us  to  show  them  some  consideration 
at  this  period.  I  had  already  thought  of  this ;  but  I  have  been  told  that 
GaMcia  is  rather  an  uncivilized  country,  and  that  the  people  are  ill-dis- 
posed towards  us." 

"  We  cannot  expect  them  to  love  their  oppressors,  your  Majesty." 

"  No — but  it  is  a  dreadful  country.  No  roads — no  inns — miles  and 
milefe  of  uninhabited  woods,  infested  by  robbers.  Oh,  my  son,  postpone 
your  journey  to  a  milder  season  !  I  shall  be  trembling  for  your  safety." 

"  There  is  no  danger,  your  Majesty.  Give  me  your  consent,  I  am 
very,  very  desirous  of  visiting  Poland." 

"  But  np  vehicle  can  travel  there  at  this  time  of  year,,  my  son.'* 

"  I  will  go  on  horseback,  your  Majesty." 

"  But  where  will  you  get  provisioBs,  Joseph  ?  Where  will  you  rest 
at  niffht  ?" 


"  I  will  rest  wherever  night  overtakes  rae,  either  in  a  cottage,  on  my 
horse,  or  on  the  ground.  And  as  for  food,  mother,  if  there  is  food  for 
our  people,  there  will  be  some  for  me  ;  and  if  there  should  be  scarcity, 
it  is  but  just  that  I  should  share  their  hardships.  Let  me  go,  I  entreat 
you." 

"  Go,  then,  my  so"n,  and  God's  blessing  be  with  you,"  said  the  Em- 
press, kissing  her  son's  forehead. 

"  Joseph !"  said  she,  as  he  was  leaving  the  room,  "  have  you  heard 
that  the  poor,  young  Countess  Anna  has  committed  suicide  on  account 
of  the  troubles  in  Poland  ?" 

"  Yes,  your  Majesty,"  replied  Joseph,  v^thout  flinching. 

*'  Perhaps  yc-u  had  better  defer  your  journey  for  a  day  to  attend  her 
funeral.  All  the  Pole«  will  be  there,  and  as  we  both  knew  and  adff'ired 
her,  I  think  it  would  propitiate  our  new  subjects  if  we  gave  some  pub- 
lic mark  of  sympathy  by  following  the  body  to  the  grave.  I  have  for- 
bidden mention  to  be  made  of  the  manner  of  her  death,  that  she  may 
not  be  denied  a  resting-place  within  consecrated  ground." 

How  she  probed  his  wound  until  the  flesh  quivered  with  agony. 

"  The  (Countess  Wielopolska  is  not  to  be  interred  in  Austria,  your 
Majesty,"  said  he.  Count  Kannienski  will  accompany  the  body  to  Po- 
land. Near  Cracow  there  is  a  mound  wherein  it  is  said  that  Wanda,  the 
first  Queen  of  Poland,  was  buried.  Anna  Wielopolska  will  share  her 
tomb.  Her  heroic  spirit  could  rest  nowhere  save  in  Poland.  When  I 
visit  Cracow  I  will  go  thither  to  plant  flowers  upon  her  grave,  that  the 
white  roses  she  loved,  may  grow  from  the  consecrated  earth  that  lies 
upon  her  heart." 


CHAPTER   XLV. 

THE    CONCKRT. 


Theresk  Paradies  was  to  give  a  concert,  the  first  at  which  she  had 
performed  since  the  restoration  of  her  sight.  Of  course  the  hall  was 
thronged,  for  in  spite  of  the  incontrovertible  fact  itself,  and  of  its  cor- 
roboration by  the  Paradies  family,  there  were  two  parties  in  Vienna, — 
one  wKo  believed  in  the  cure,  and  the  other  who  did  not.  Those  who 
did  not,  doubted  upon  the  respectable  testimony  of  Professor  Barthe, 
Doctor  Ingenhaus,  and  the  entire  faculty,  who,  one  and  all,  protested 
against  the  shameful  imposition  which  Mesmer  was  practicing  upon  am 
enlightened  public. 

The  audience,  therefore,  W9.s  less  interested  in  Therese's  music,  won- 


1,S2  JUSKI'b    IHB  SECC»iM> 

derful  as  it  was,  than  in  her  eyes  ;  for  her  father  had  announced,  that 
during  the  pauses,  Therese  would  prove  to  the  incredulous  that  her  cure 
•was  no  deception. 

Professor  Barthe,  Doctor  Ingenhaus,  and  the  Astronomer  were  there 
in  the  front  row,  sneering  away  the  convictions  of  all  who  were  within 
hearing.  Herr  Paradies  now  appeared,  and  as  he  stood  reckoning  the 
profits  that  were  to  gladden  his  pockets  on  that  eventful  evening,  Barthe 
left  his  seat,  and  approached  him. 

"  You  really  believe,  do  you,  that  your  daughter  sees?"  said  the  Pro- 
fessor. 

"  She  sees  as  well  as  I  do.  "^  Were  you  not  there  to  witness  it  your- 
self, when  her  bandage  was  removed  ?" 

*'  I  humored  the  jest  to  see  how  far  the  impudence  of  Mesmer  and 
the  credulity  of  his  admirers  would  travel  together.  I  hear  curious  ac- 
counts of  your  daughter's  mistakes,  granting  her  the  use  of  her  eye- 
sight. It  is  said  that  some  one  presented  her  a  flower,  when  looking  at  it, 
she  remarked,  "  what  a  pretty  star  !"  And  did  she  not  put  a  hair-pin  in 
her  mother's  cheek,  while  trying  to  fasten  her  hair?" 

"  Yes,  she  did  both  these  things,  but  I  think  they  prove  her  to  be 
making  awkward  use  of  a  new  faculty.  She  is  not  likely  to  know  the 
name  of  a  thing  when  she  sees  it  for  the  first  time ;  neither  has  she 
learned  to  appreciate  distances.  Objects  quite  close  to  her  she  some- 
times stumbles  upon,  and  those  out  of  reach,  she  puts  out  her  hand  to 
take.  All  this  will  correct  itself,  and  when  Therese  has  become  as  fa- 
miliar with  perspective  illusions  as  the  rest  of  us,  she  will  go  out  into 
the  streets,  and  the  world  will  be  convinced." 

"  You  really  believe  it  then !" 

"  I  am  as  convinced  of  it  as  that  I  see  myself." 

"  It  is  very  disinterested  of  you  to  publish  it,"  said  the  Professor, 
looking  significantly  at  the  happy  father.  "  This  acknowledgement  will 
cost  you  a  considerable  sum." 

'•  How  f  asked  Von  Paradies,  frightened.     "  I  do  not  understand." 

"  It  is  very  simple  nevertheless,"  said  the  Professor,  carelessly. 
"  Does  the  Empress  give  your  daughter  a  pension  ?" 

'*  Certainly.     You  know  she  does,  and  a  handsome  one,  too." 

"  Of  course  it  is  lost  to  her,"  replied  Barthe,  enjoying  the  sudden 
paleness  which  ove^-spread  the  radiant  face  of  Von  Paradies.  "  A  girl 
who  sees,  has  no  right  to  the  money  which  is  given  to  the  blind  ;  and  I 
'heard  Von  Stork,  this  very  day,  saying  that  as  soon  as  it  was  proved 
that  your  daughter  could  see,  he  intended  to  apply  to  the  Empress  for 
her  pension  in  behalf  of  another  party." 

"  But  this  pension  is  our  chief  support;  it  enables  us  to  live  very 
comfortably.     If  it  were  withdrawn,  i  should  be  a  beggar." 

"  That  would  not  alter  the  case.  Pensions  are  granted  to  those  who, 
by  their  misfortunes,  have  a  claim  upon  the  public  charity.  The  claim 
dies  from  the  moment  that  your  daughter's  infirmity  is  removed.  Through 
the  favor  of  the  Empress,  she  has  become  a  scientific  musician,  and  this 


EMi'ttROlt   Uf    AUSTKIA  |  S;^ 

now  must  be  her  capital.     She  can  teach  music  And  give  concert.' 

"  But  that  will  not  maintain  us  respectably,"  urged  Von  Paradiei 
with  increasing  uneasiness, 

"  Of  cosrse  it  will  not  maintain  you  as  yoli  live  with  your  handsome 
pension.  But  you  need  nofc  starve.  Be  that  as  it  may,  there  is  a  blind 
Countess  who  is  my  patient,  for  whom  Von  Stork  is  to  obtain  the  pen- 
sion as  soon  as  you  can  convince  the  faculty  that  your  daughter  is  no 
longer  in  need  of  it.  Tliis  patient,  1  assure  you,  will  receive  it  as  lonw 
as  she  lives,  for  it  will  never  enter  into  her  head  to  fancy  that  she  has 
been  cured  by  Master  Mesmer." 

"But,  my  dear  Professor,"  entreated  Von  Paradies,  '4iavc  meicv  on 
me  and  my  family.  For  sixteen  years  we  have  received  this  income 
and  it  had  been  secured  to  us  during  Therese's  lifetime." 

"Nevertheless,  it  goes  to  the  Countess,  if  she  is  not  blind,  I  toll  you. 
The  Empress,  so  says  Von  Stork,  has  never  refused  a  request  of  his, 
because  he  never  asks  anything  but  that  which  is.just  and  reasonable." 
•'  We  are  ruined  !"  exclaimed  Von  Paradies,  in  accents  of  despair. 
"  Not  unless  you  prove  to  us  that  your  daughter  ts  not  deceiving  you,^'' 
replied  Barthe,  with  sharp  emphasis.  "If  you  can  show  her  to  be  blind, 
you  are  saved  ;  and  Von  Stork  would  petition  the  Empress,  in  conside- 
ration of  the  shameful  imposition  practiced  upon  your  paternal  love,  to 
increase  the  pension.  Well — this  evening's  entertainment  will  dedde 
the  matter.     Meanwhile,  adieu."^ 

The  Professer  lounged  back  to  his  seat,  leaving  his  poisoned  arrow 
behind. 

"  I  think,"  said  Barthe,  smiling  as  he  saw  the  victim  writhe,  "that  I 
have  given  him  a  receipt  for  his  daughter's  eyes  that  will  be  more  po- 
tent than  Mesmer's  passes.  It  vyill  never  do  to  restore  the  age  of  mir- 
acles." 

"  No,  indeed,  if  miracles  are  to  make  their  appearance  upon  the  sta^e 
of  this  world,  what  becomes  of  science  ]"  asked  Ingenhaus. 

"  Let  us  await  the  end  of  the  farce,"  said  the  Professor.  "  Here  she 
comes." 

A  murmur  went  through  the  hall  as  Therese  entered.  The  wuests 
rose  from  their  seats  to  obtain  a  sight  of  her.  They  had  known  her 
from  infancy,  but  to-night  she  was  an  object  of  new  and  absorbing  in- 
terest, even  to  the  elegant  crowd,  who  seldom  condescended  to  be  aston- 
ished at  anything. 

Therese  seemed  to  feel  her  position,  for  whereas  she  had  been  accus- 
tomed to  trip  into  the  concert-room  with  perfect  self-possession,  she  now 
came  forward  timidly,  with  downcast  eyes.  The  audience  had  always 
received  her  with  enthusiasm,  for  she  was  a  great  artist;  but  now  per- 
foct  silence  greeted  her  entrance,  for  nothing  was  remembered,  save  the 
marvel  which  her  appearance  there  was  to  attest. 

Whether  accidentally  or  intentionally,  several  chairs  were  in  her  way 
as  she  passed  to  the  instrument.  She  avoided  them  with  perfect  confi- 
dence, scarcely  brushing  them  with  the  fplds  of  her  white  satin  dress, 


\S4  JusKPu  rail  .-seouni^ 

"  She  sees,  she  is  cured  !  She  is  no  longer  blind,"  murmured  the 
spectators,  and  with  renewed  curiosity,  they  watched  her  every  motion. 

There  were  three  people  within  that  concert-room  upon  whom  these 
murmurs  produced  profound  and  dissimilar  impressions. 

Barthe  frowned  angrily.  Von  Paradies  grew  paler  and  trembled  like  a 
coward  as  he  was,  while  Mesmer,  who  leaned  against  a  pillar,  fixed  his 
eyes  upon  Therese  with  a  glance  of  supreme  happiness,  Therese  re- 
turned the  glance  with  one  of  such  deep  trust  and  love,  that  no  ,one  who 
saw  it  could  doubt  her  power  of  vision.  The  audience  burst  out  into 
one  simultaneous  storm  of  applause,  and  this  reminded  the  young;  girl 
that  she  was  not  alone  with  her  "  Master."  She  raised  her  eyes  for  the 
first  time,  towards  the  spectators,  and  met  every  glance  directed  to- 
wards herself. 

The  sight  of  this  sea  of  upturne'd  faces  so  terrified  the  poor  child, 
that  she  felt  faint  and  dizzy.  She  grouped  about  with  her  hands  to  find 
a  seat,  for  she  could  scarcely  stand. 

The  action  attracted  universal  attention.  A  significant  .look  passed 
between  Von  Paradies  and  Barthe,  while  Mesmer's  brow  darkened,  and 
his  face  flushed  with  disappointment.  It  was  very  unfortunate — that 
faintness  of  Therese. 

She  stood  irresolute  and  alone,  unable  to  advance,  and  too  weak  to 
see  the  chair  that  stood  close  at  hand. 

For  sometime,  the  audience  surveyed  her  with  breathless  interest. — 
Suddenly  the  silence  was  broken  by  a  voice  in  the  crowd  : 

"  Will  no  one  take  pity  upon  the  girl  and  lead  her  to  the  harpsi- 
chord"?    Do  you  not  see  that  she  is  as  blind  as  ever  !" 

Therese  recovered  herself  when  she  heard  these  insulting  words,  and 
her  eyes  flashed  strangely  for  eyes  that  could  not  see. 

"  I  am  not  blind !"  cried  she,  in  a  clear,  firm  voice,  and  as  if  the  sneer 
had  restored  her  strength  and  self-possession,  she  came  forward  at  once, 
and  took  her  seat. 

The  audience  applauded  a  second  time,  and  Therese  bowed  and  smiled. 
While  she  drew  off  her  gloves,  she  looked  back  at  Mesmer,  who  return- 
ed the  glance  with  one  of  affectionate  pride. 

Scarcely  knowing  what  she  did,  Therese  began  to  play.  She  kept  her 
eyes  fixed  upon  Mesmer,  and  as  she  felt  the  power  of  his  magnetic 
glance,  she  soared  into  heights  of  harmony  that  ravished  the  ears  of  her 
listeners,  and  left  all  her  previous  performances  far  behind. 

She  ended  with  a  sigh,  as  though  awaking  from  some  heavenly  dream. 
Never  had  she  been  so  enthusiastically  applauded  as  now.  This  time 
it  was  not  her  vision,  but  her  incomparable  skill  which  had  elicited  the 
acclamations  of  the  public,  and  Therese,  happy  in  her  success,  bowed, 
and  smiled  again  upon  her  admirers. 

And  now  the  artistic  exhibition  was  at  an  end.  Herr  Von  Paradies 
advancing,  informed  the  public,  that  they  would  now  proceed  to  test  the 
genuineness  of  his  daughter's  cure.  He  then  came  to  the  edge  of  the 
platform,  and  spoke  in  a  loud,  distinct  voice :  "  I  request  the  distin- 


KMPKKUn  yjf  AUbTltlA  1J^5 

guislied  company,  who  have  brought  books  or  music  for  the  purpose,  to 
hand  them  to  me,  that  we  may  discover  whether  in  truth  she  sees,  or 
imagines  that  she  sees.  I  beg  so  much  the  more  for  your  attention, 
ladies  and  gentlemen,"  continued  he,  in  a  faltering  voice,  "  that  this 
night  is  to  decide  a  fearful  doubt  in  my  own  mind.  Doctor  Mesmer  af- 
firms that  my  daughter's  vision  has  been  restored.  I,  alas !  believe  that 
she  is  yet  blind!" 

The  audience  expressed  astonishment,  Theresa  uttered  a  cry  of  horror 
and  turned  to  Mesmer,  who,  pale  and  stunned  by  the  shock  of  her  fa- 
ther's cruel  words,  had  lost  all  power  to  come  to  the  poor  child's  assis- 
tance. 

Barthe  was  laughing  behind  his  pocket-handkerchief.  "  The  remedy 
works,"  whispered  he  to  Ingenhaus,  "  the  remedy  works." 

Two  gentlemen  arose.  One  handed  a  book,  the  other  a  sheet  of  mu- 
sic. As  Von  Paradies  turned  the  book  over  to  his  daughter,  she  gave 
him  a  reproachful  look.  She  opened  it  and  read  :  "  Emilia  Galotti,  by 
Gotthold  Ephraim  Lessing." 

"  And,  now,"  continued  she,  "  if  one  of  the  ladies  present  will  select 
a  passage,  and  another  will  look  over  me  as  I  read,  the  audience  can 
thus  convince  themselves  that  I  sec." 

One  of  the  most  distinguished  ladies  in  Vienna  approached  TheresB 
and  stood  close  by  her  side,  while  another,  a  celebrated  actress,  request- 
ed her  to  open  the  book  at  page  71. 

Therese  turned  over  the  leaves  and  found  the  place. 

"That is  right,  my  love,"  said  the  Countess.     "  Now  read." 

Therese  began  to  read,  and  when  she  ended,  the  excitement  of  the 
people  knew  no  bounds. 

"  She  sees  !     She  sees  !"  cried  the  people.     "  Who  can  doubt  it  ?" 

And  now  from  the  crowd  arose  a  voice. 

"  We  have  enough  proof.  The  fact  is  self-evident,  and  we  may  all 
congratulate  the  Frdulein  upon  the  recovery  of  her  sight.  Let  us  have 
more  of  her  delightful  music." 

"I  am  sorry  that  I  cannot  agree  with  Doctor  Mesraer's  invisible  pa- 
tron," said  Yon  Paradies.  "  I  strive  to  forget  that  1  am  her  father,  and 
place  myself  on  the  side  of  the  incredulous  public,  who  have  a  right  to 
demand  whether  indeed  the  days  of  miracles  have  returned." 

"My  remedy  does  wonders,"  said  Barthe  to  the  faculty. 

Herr  Von  Paradies  continued  :  "  This  being  the  case,  it  is  easier  for 
us  to  suppose  that  the  distinguished  actress,  who  selected  the  page,  has 
been  requested  to  do  so,  than  to  brieve  that  my  daughter  has  seen  the 
words  just  read ;  for  this  lady  is  known  to  be  a  follower  of  Doctor  Mes- 
mer. Perhaps  the  Countess  did  not  remark  that  the  corner  of  the  leaf 
is  slightly  turned  down." 

He  took  the  book  and  passed  the  leaves  rapidly  over  his  thumb. 

"  Here  it  is,"  said  he,  holding  it  up. 

"  Father !"  exclaimed  Therese,  indignantly,  "  I  saw  you  turn  the  leaf 
ttfew  minutes  ago  with  your  own  hand." 


|St>  JOSEPa  J-flK  SKCUJSD 

*'  Saw  !"  cried  Von  Paradies,  raising  his  hands.  Then  turning  to  the 
audience,  he  continued  :  "  As  regards  I  his  book,  it  was  handed  to  me 
just  now  by  Baron  V^u  Horlca.  one  of  Mesmer's  mobt  devoted  adhe- 
/ents.  He  may  have  been  commissioned  to  se.lect  this  particular  work, 
and  Theresa  may  be  aware  of  it.  If  1  am  thus  stringent  in  my  accept- 
ance of  the  evidence  in  this  case,  it  is  because  1  long  to  possess  the  sweet 
a-^sucance  of  my  dear  child's  compleU)  cute." 

'•  Hear  him,''  laughed  Barthe,  touching  Ingenhaus  on  the  elbow. 

Therese,  meanwhile,  was  growing  embarrassed,  and  looking  to  Mes- 
mer  for  encouragement,  she  lost  sight  of  everything  under  the  influence 
of  his  eyes.  Her  father  held  the  paper  before  her  but  she  was  not 
aware  of  it.  The  audience  whispered,  but  Mesmer  at  that  moment, 
turning  away  from  Therese,  she  sighed,  and  recovering  her  self-posses- 
sion, took  the  paper  and  placed  it  before  the  harpsichord. 

"  March,  from  Oedipus,"  said  she,  seating  herself  before  the  instru- 
ment. 

"  Why,  Therese,"  cried  her  father,  "you  read  the  tltle*without  turn- 
ing to  the  title  page." 

"  I  saw  the  piece  when  it  was  handed  to  you  by  Ritter  Gluck." 

"  You  are  acquainted  with  Gluck  ?"  asked  Von  Paradies.  "  He  has 
never  been  to  our  house," 

"  I  have  seen  him  at  Doctor  Mesmer's,"  repljed  Therese. 

"  Ah,  indeed!  Ritter  Gluck,  who  hands  the  music,  is  like^Baron  Von 
Horka,  who  brought  the  book,  a  friend  of  Mesmer's,"  said  Von  Para- 
dies, with  a  sneer  that  affrighted  his  daughter  and  made  her  tremble. 

But  she  placed  her  hands  upon  the  keys  and  began  to  pl^y. 

The  enraptured  audience  again  forgot  her  eyes,  and  entranced  by  the 
music,  hung  breathless  upon  her  notes,  while  she  executed  the  magnifi- 
cent funeral  march  in  Oedipus.  Suddenly,  at  the  conclusion  of  a  pas- 
sage of  exquisite  beauty,  she  ceased,  and  her  hands  wandered  feebly 
over  the  keys.  Her  father,  who  was  turning  the  leaves,  looked  almost 
scornfully  at  the  poor  girl,  who,  alarmed  and  bewildered  by  his  unac- 
countable conduct,  grew  deadly  pale,  and  finally,  with  a  deep  sigh,  closed 
her  eyes. 

After  a  few  moments  she  began  again.  From  her  agile  fingers  drop- 
ped showers  of  pearly  notes,  while  through  all  the  fanciful  combinations 
of  sound,  was  heard  t-he  solemn  and  majestic  chant  of  the  funeral  march. 
The  audience  could  scarcely  contain  their  raptures,  and  yet  they  dared 
not  applaud  for  fear  of  losing  a  note. 

She  seemed  to  be  astray  in  a  wilderness  of  harmony,  when  her  father, 
with  an  impatient  gesture,  laid  his  hands  upon  her  fingers  and  held  them 
down. 

"  You  are  no  longer  playing  by  note !"  exclaimed  he,  with  affected 
surpri-;e.  "You  are  giving  us  voluntaries  from  Orpheus,  instead  of  the 
funeral  march.  I  appeal  to  the  public  to  say  whether  my  daughter  is 
phtving  the  funeral  march." 

There  Tiras  a  pause,  then  a  voice,  tremulous  with  emotion,  said  :  "No, 


EMPEKUH  Uh  AL'STKIA.  187 

it  is  no  longer  the  funeral   march;  it  is  now  a  beautiful  arrangemenL 
from  Orpheus." 

Ilerr  Von  Paradies,  with  an  expression  of  profoundest  anguish,  threw 
his  arm  around  his  daughter,  exclaiming.  "Oh,  my  beloved  child,  it  is 
then  as  I  feared  !     We  have  been  deceived,  and  you  are  blind  for  life." 

"  Father !"  screamed  'J'herese,  Hinging  him  off;  •'  Father  you  know — " 

*'  I  know  that  you  are  blind,"  cried  he,  following  her,  and  again  clamp- 
ing her  in  his  arms.  "  Come,  my  poor  child,  come,  and  fear  nothing  \ 
Your  father  will  work  for  you;  and  his  hand  shall  guide  your  faltering 
steps.  Oh,  my  child  !  May  God  forgive  those  who  have  brought  this 
bitter  disappointment  upon  my  head  !  My  dream  of  hof)e  is  over. — 
You  arc  blind,  Therese,  hopelessly  blind,  and  your  father's  heart  i,s 
broken !" 

The  audience  were  deeply  moved  by  this  outburst  of  paternal  grief 
and  tenderness.  Here  and  there  were  heard  halfaudible  murmurs  of 
sympathy,  and  many  of  the  ladies  had  their  handkerchiefs  to  their  eyes. 
Everybody  was  touched  except  Professor  Barlhe.  He,  on  the  contrary, 
was  chuckling  with  satisfaction,  and  felt  much  more  inclined  to  applaud 
than  to  commiserate.  He  looked  at  Ingenhaus,  who  not  being  in  the 
secret,  was  divided  between  sympathy  for  the  father  and  indignation  to- 
wards the  charlatan.  Indeed  he  had  so  far  fprgotten  his  own  interest  in 
the  scene,  that  he  was  weeping  with  the  rest. 

"Console  yourself,  my  triend,"  said  Barthe,  ''all  this  is  the  result  of 
my  efforts  in  behalf  of  science,  I  deserve  a  public  vote  of  thanks  for 
having  out-mesmered  Mesmer." 

He  stopped — for  Therese's  voice  was  heard  in  open  strife  with  her 
father.  "  Let  me  go  !"  cried  she,  with  passion.  "  I  am  not  blind.  As 
God  hears  me,  I  see — but  oh,  how  fearful  have  b6en  the  revelations  that 
sight  has  made  to  me  this  night  I" 

Poor,  poor  Therese !  The  shock  of  her  father's  treachery  had  proved 
too  great  for  her  girlish  frame.  She  reeled  and  fell  back  insensible  in 
his  arms. 

Von  Paradies,  with  simulated  anguish,  turned  to  the  audience  and 
bowed  his  stricken  head.  Then  raising  his  daughter  in  his 'arms,  he 
carried  her  away  from  the  stage. 


CHAPTER  XLVI. 

THE    CATASTROPHE. 

TiiERESE  lay  for  several  hours  unconscious,  while  her  mother  wept, 
and  watched  over  her,  and  her  father  stood  by,  sullenly  awaiting  the  re- 
sult. 


At  last  she  heaved  a  sigh  and  opened  her  eyes.  "Where  am  11" 
asked  she,  feebly. 

"  At  home,  darling,"  replied  the  tender  motTier,  bending  over  and 
kissing  her. 

"  No — I  am  ip.  the  fearful  concert-room.  They  stare  at  me  vpith  those 
piercing  daggers  which'  men  call  eyes,  and  oh,  their  glances  hurt  me, 
mother !  There  they  sit,  heartlessly  applauding  my  misery,  because  it 
has  shaped  itself  into  music  !     Let  me  go ;  I  am  strong,  and  1  see  !" 

Shii attempted  to  rise  but  her  father  held  her  back.  "Lie  still,  my 
child,"  said  he,  reproachfully ;  "  it  is  vain  for  you  to  carry  this  decep- 
tion further,  Trust  your  parents,  and  confess  that  you  are  blind.  Were 
it  otherwise,  you  would  not  mistake  your  own  familiar  chamber  for  the 
vast  concert-room.  For  Mesraer's  sake,  you  have  sought  to  deceive 
us,  but  it  is  useless,  for  we  know  that  you  are  blind." 

"  You  are  blind — you  are  blind  !"  These  oft  repeated  words  seem- 
ed fraught  with  a  power  that  almost  made  her  doubt  her  own  senses. — 
She  saw,  and  yet  she  felt  as  if  sight  were  receding  from  her  eyes. 

"  Oh  my  God !  Why  will  my  father  madden  me !"  cried  the  unhap- 
py  girl,  rising  in  spite  of  all  efforts  to  detain  her,  and  looking  around 
the  room.  "  Ah — now  I  remember,  1  fainted  and  was  brought  home. 
Yes,  father,  yes,  I  tell  you  that  I  see,"  cried  she  wringing  her  hands,  and 
writhing  with  the  agony  he  was  inflicting  upon  her.  "  1  see  in  the  win- 
dow the  blue  flower-pot  which  Mesmer  brought  me  yesterday — there 
opposite  stands  my  harpsichord,  and  its  black  and  white  keys  are  beck- 
oning me  to  come  and  caress  them.  Two  open  books  lie  upon  the  table, 
and  over  it  are  scattered  drawings  and  engravings.  Oh,  father,  have  1 
not  described  things  as  they  are  1" 

"  Yes,  child — you  have  long  been  familiar  with  this  room,  and  need 
not  the  help  of  eyes  to  describe  it." 

"  And  then,"  continued  she,  '1  see  you  both.  I  see  my  mother's  dear 
face,  tender  as  it  ^as  when  first  my  eyes  opened  to  the  light  of  its  love  ' 
— And,  my  father,  I  see  you  with  the  same  frown  that  terrified  me  in  the 
concert-room — the  same  scowl  that  to  my  frightened  fancy,  seemed  that 
of  some  mocking  fiend  who  sought  to  drive  me  back  to  blindness! 
What  is  it  father"?  What  has  changed  you  so  that  you  love  your 
child  no  longer,  and  seek  to  take  the  new  life  that  God  has  just  be- 
stowed V 

"  God  has  bestowed  nothing  upon  you,  and  I  will  no  longer  be  the 
tool  of  an  imposter,"  replied  he  morosely.  "Am  I  to  be  the  laughing 
stock  of  Vienna,  while  men  of  distinction  see  through  the  tricks  of  the 
charlatan?  I  must  and  will  have  the  strength  to  confess  my  folly,  and 
to  admit  that  you  are  blind." 

Therese  uttered  a  cry,  and  shook  as  though  a  chill  had  seized  her. 
"  Oh  God,  help  me !"  murmured  the  poor  girl,  sinking  in  her  mother's 
outstretched  arras,  and  weeping  piteously.-  Suddenly  she  raised  her 
head  and  gradually  her  face  brightened,  her  cheeks  flushed,  her  lips  par- 
ted with  a  smile,  and  her  large  expressive  eyes  beamed  with  happiness. 


EMPEROR  OP  aUSTKJA  »       189 

Once  more  she  trembled — but  with  joy,  and  leaning  her  head  upon  her 
mother's  shoulder,  she  whispered,  "  He  comes." 

The  door  opened,  and  Mesmer's  tall  and  comrftanding  figure  advanced 
towards  the  group.  Therese  flew  to  meen  him  and  grasped  his  hands  in 
hers. 

"  Come,  Master,  come  and  shield  me  !  God  be  thanked,  you  are  here 
to  shelter  mo.     If  you  leave  again  1  shall  lose  my  sight." 

He  passed  his  hands  lightly  over  her  face,  and  looked  earnestly  into 
her  eyes. 

"  You  are  dissatisfied  with  me  Master,"  said  she  anxiously.  "  You 
are  displeased  at  my  childish  behaviour.  I  know  that  I  was  silly  ;  but 
when  I  saw  these  multitudinous  heads  so  close  together,  all  with  eyes 
that  were  fixed  on  me  alone,  I  began  again  to  feel  afraid  of  my  own  race. 
It  seemed  as  if  the  walls  were  advancing  to  meet  me — and  I  retreated 
in  terror." 

"  What  confused  you  at  the  harpsichord,  child  ?" 

"Th%  sight  of  the  small,  dazzling  notes,  and  the  singular  motions  of 
my  own  fingers.  I  am  so  unaccustomed  to  see,  that  hands  and  notes 
appeared  to  be  dancing  a  mad  Morrisco,  until  at  last  I  grew  confused 
and  saw  nothing." 

"  All  this  is  so  natural,"  said  Mesmer  sadly,  "  for  the  seat  of  your  in- 
firmity lay  in  the  nerves.  And  now  that  they  require  rest,  you  are  a 
prey  to  agitation  and  to  tears !  Unhappy  Therese,  there  are  some  who 
seek  to  plunge  you  back  into  the  darkness  from  whence  I  have  rescued 
you  !"■' 

She  put  her  arms  upon  his  shoulders  and  sobbed,  "  save  me,  Master, 
save  me — I  could  not  bear  blindness  now !" 

At  the  other  end  of  the  room  stood  Von  Paradies  and  his  wife.  She 
laid  her  hand  upon  his  arm,  saying  imploringly, 

"  What  signifies  all  this  mystery,  husband  ?  "Why  do  you  torture 
our  little  Therese  so  cruelly  1  You  know  that  she  sees,  why  then  da 
ypu " 

"  Peace  !"  interrupted  Von  Paradies  angrily.  "  If  Therese  does  not 
become  blind  again,  we  shall  lose  our  pension." 

"  My  poor  child,"  sobbed  the  mother,  "  you  are  lost !" 

"  I  have  come  to  your  help  Therese,"  said  Mesmer  audibly. .  "I  know 
all  that  is  passing  under  this -roof,"  continued  he,  with  a  look  of  scorn  at 
her  parents.  "  They  are  trying  to  deprive  you  of  your  sight,  and  they 
Well  know  that  excitement  and  w^eeping  will  destroy  it.  But  my  name 
and  honor  are  linked  with  your  fortunes,  child,  and  I  shall  struggle  for 
both.  I  have  come  to  tatic  you  to  the  villa  with  my  other  patients. 
You  shall  be  under  my  wife's  carp,  and  will  remain  with  us  until  your  eyes 
are  fortified  against  nervous  impressions.     The  carriage  is  at  the  door." 

"  I  ana  ready  to  go,"  replied  Therese,  joyfully. 

*'  I  will  not  suffer  her  to  leave  the  house  !"  cried  Von  Paradies  strid- 
ing angrily  forward.  "  Therese  is  my  daughter,  and  shall  not  be  torn 
from  her  father's  protection." 


190  JOSEI'b  THK  SfiCONU 

"She  goes  with  me,"  thundered  Mesmer  with  eyes  that  flashed  llght- 
n'.rijr^  likii  th()^e  of  Olyir.pian  Zeus,  "  You  gave  her  to  me  as  a  patient, 
and  until  she  is  cured  she  belongs  to  her  ^  hysician." 

He  took  Thercse  in  his  arms  and  carried  her  towards  the  door.  But 
Von  Paradies,  with  a  roar  like  that  of  some  wild  animal,  placed  himself 
before  it  and  defended  the-passage. 

"  Let  me  pass,"  cried  he. 

*'  Go — but  first  put  down  Therese." 

'•  No — You  shall  not  deprive  her  of  the  sight  I  have  bestowed." 

"With  these  words,  he  raised  his  muscular  right  arm,  and  swinging  off 
Von  Paradies  as  if  he  had  been  a  child,  Mesmer  passed  the  opening  and 
stood  outside. 

"  Farewell,  and  fear  nothing,"  cried  he,  "  for  your  pension  will  not 
be  withdrawn.  Therese  is  once  more  blind.  But  as  God  is  just,  I  will 
restore  her  again  to  sight !" 

Mesmer,  however,  was  destined  to  be  foiled.  His  enemies  were  richer 
and  more  influential  than  he  ;  and  Von  Paradies,  in  mortal,  terror  for  his 
pension,  sustained  them.  Van  Stork  obtained  an  order,  commanding 
the  relinquishment  of  Therese  to  her  natural  guardians,  and  her  father 
armed  with  the  dottument,  went  and  demanded  his  daughter.  Therese 
flew  to  Mesmer's  arms,  and  a  fearful  scene  ensued.  It  shall  be  described 
in  Mesmer's  own  words. 

"  The  father  of  Therese,  resolved  to  carry  her  away  by  main  force, 
rushed  upon  me  with  an  unsheathed  sword.  I  succeeded  in  disarming 
him,  but  the  mother  and  daughter  both  fell  insensible  at  my  feet:  the 
former  from  terror,  the  latter  because  her  unnatural  father  had  hurled 
her  against  the  wall,  where  she  had  struck  her  head  with  such  violence 
as  to  lose  all  consciousness.  Madam  Von  Paradies  recovered  and  went 
home,  but  poor  Therese  was  in  a  state  of  such  nervous  agony  that  she 
lofit  her  sight  entirely,  f  trembled  for  her  life  and  reason.  Having  no 
desire  to  revenge  myself  upon  her  parents,  I  did  all  that  I  could  to  save 
her  life. 

"  Herr  Von  Paradies,  sustained  by  those  who  had  instigated  him,  fill- 
ed Vienna  with  the  cry  of  persecution.  1  became  an  object  of  universal 
contumely,  and  a  second  order  was  obtained  by  which  1  was  comman- 
ded to  deliver  Therese  to  her  father."*  y 

From  this  time  Therese  remaiped  blind,  and  continued  to  give  Con- 
certs in  Vienna,  as  she  had  done  before.  Barthe  and  his  accomplices 
were  triumphant,  and  Mesmer,  disgusted  with  his  countrymen,  left 
Vienna,  and  made  his  home  in  Paris. 

Therese  Von  Paradies  then,  as  her  father  asserted,  was  blind.  Whe- 
ther she  ever  was  anything  else  remains  to  this  day  an  open  question. 
The  faculty  denied  furiously  that  she  had  seen  :  Mesmer's  friends  on  the 
contrary  declared  solemnly  that  she  had  been  restored  by  animal  mag- 
netism, but  that  her  cruel  father,  for  the  sake  of  the.  pension,  had  perse- 
cuted her  and  so  succeeded  in  destroying  her  eye-sight  forever. 

•  Jnftlnui  Kernor.    Franz  Anthony  Mwmer.    P.  TO. 


MARIE  ANTOINETTE.  191 


MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 


CHAPTER  XLVIL 

LH  ROI  EST  MOKT,  VIVE   LE  ROJ  ! 


It  was  the  evening  of  the  tenth  of  May,  1774.  The  Palace  of  Ver- 
sailles, the  eeat  of  royal  splendor,  was  gloomy,  silent  and  empty.  Regal- 
ity, erst  so  pleasure-loving  and  voluptuous,  now  lay  with  crown  all  dim, 
and  purple  all  stained,  awaiting  the  last  sigh  of  an  old  expiring  King, 
who$e  demise  was  to  restore  to  it  an  inheritance  of  youth,  beauty  and 
strength. 

In  one  wing  of  the  Palace,  royalty  hovered  over  a  youthful  pair,  as 
the  genius  of  hope ;  in  another,  it  frowned  upon  the  weak  old  King  as 
the  implacable  angel  of  death. 

Louis  the  Fifteenth  was  balancing  the  great  account  of  his  life:  a  life 
of  luxury,  voluptuousness,  and  supreme  selfishness.  Yii^lding  to  the 
entreaties  of  his  daughters,  he  had  sent  for  the  Archbishop  of  Paris;  but 
knowing  |5erfectly  well  that  the  sacraments  of  the  Church  would  not  be 
administered  under  a  roof  which  was  polluted  by  the  presence  of  Du- 
barry,  the  old  libertine  had  banished  her  to  the  chateau  de  Ruelles. 

But  Monseigneur  de  Beaumont  required  something  more  than  this  of 
the  royal  sinner.  He  exacted  that  he  should  make  public  confession  of 
his  scandalous  life  in  presence  of  the  Court  *to  which  he  had  given  such 
shameful  example.  The  King  had  struggled  against  such  open  humilia- 
tion, but  the  Archbishop  was  tirm,  and  the  fear  of  death  predominating 
'  over  pride,  Louis  had  consented  to  make  the  sacrifice. 

For  three  days  the  Courtiers  had  hung  about  the  ante-room,  afraid  to 
enter,  (for  the  King's  disease  was  small-pox;)  yet  afraid  to  take  flight 
lest  by  some  chance  he  should  recover.  But  now  the  doors  of  the  royal 
apartments  were  flung  wide  open,  and  there  was  great, trepidation  among 
the  crowd.*  The  Archbishop  in  his  canonicals  was  seen  standing  by  the 
bed  of  state;  on  one  side  of  him  stood  the  Grand  Almoner,  and  on  the 
other  the  Minister,  the  Due  d'Arguillon.  At  the  foot  of  the  bed' knelt 
the  daughters  of  the  King,  who  in  soft  whispers  were  trying  to  comfort 
their  miserable  father. 

"The  King  wishes  to  bid  adieu  to  his  friends!"  cried  the  Due  d'Ar- 
guillon  in  a  loud  voice. 


192  ,  JUSJIPH  tm  SECOND 

Here  was  a  dilemma!  Everybody  was  afraid  of  the  small- pox,  for 
the  handsome  Marquis  de  Letorieres,  whom  Louis  had  insisted  upou 
seeing,  had  just  died  of  the  infection,  and  nobody  desired  to  follow  him. 
And  yet  the  King  might  outlive  this  attack,  and  then — r-what? 

Once  more  the  Due  d'Arguillon  called  out  for  the  King's  friends ;  and, 
trembling  froni  apprehension  of  results  that  might  follow  this  latter  con- 
tingency, they  entered  the  chamber  of  death.  The  atmosphere  was 
fearful.  Not  all  the  fumes  of  the  incense,  which  was  sending  its  vapory 
wreaths  to  the  pictured  ceilings,  could  overpower  the  odour  of  approach- 
ing dissolution.  In  vain  the  acolytes  swung  their  gold6a  censers — Death 
was  there,  and  the  scent  of  the  grave. 

Breathless,  and  with  compressed  lips,  the  King's  friends  listened  to 
his  indistinct  rautterings,  and  looked  upon  his  swollen,  livid,  blackened 
face.  Each  one  had  hurried  by,  and  now  they  all  were  free  again,  and 
were  preparing  to  fly  as  far  as  possible  from  the  infected  spot.  But  the 
clear,  solemn  voice  of  the  Archbishop — that  voice  which  so  often  had 
stricken  terror  to  their  worldly  hearts,  was  heard  again,  and  he  bade 
them  stay. 

"The  King  asks  pardon  of  his  subjects  for  the  wicked  and  scandalous 
life  which  he  has  led  on  earth,"  said  the  Archbishop.  "  Although  as  a 
man,  he  is  responsible  to  God  alone  for  his  deeds,  as  a  sovereign  he  ac- 
knowledges to  his  subjects  that  he  heartily  repents  of  his  wickedness, 
and  desires  to  live  only  that  he  may  do  penance  for  the  past,  and  make 
amends  for  the  future." 

A  piteous  groan  escaped  from  the  lips  of  the  dying  monarch,  but  his 
"  friends "  did  not  stay  to  hear  it ;  they  fled  precipitately  from  the 
frightful  scene. 

While  here,  a  trembling  soul  was  being  driven  from  its  earthly  dwel- 
ling, in  another  wing  of  the  palace,  the  other  members  of  the  royal  fami- 
ly were  in  the  chapel  at  prayer.  The  evening  services  were  over,  and 
the  chaplain  was  reading  the  "  Eorty  hours'  prayer,"  when  the  sky  be- 
came suddenly  obscured  ;  peal  upon  peal  of  thunder  resounded  along 
the  heavens,  and  night  enveloped  the  chapel  in  its  dismal  pall  of  black. 
Livid  flashes  of  lightning  lit  up  the  pale  faces  of  the  royal  supplicants, 
while  to  every  faltering  prayer  that  fell  from  their  lips,  the  answer  came 
from  above  in  the  roar  of  the  angry  thunder  clap. 

There  before  the  altar  knelt  the  doomed  pair,  the  innocent  heirs  of  a 
selfish  and  luxurious  race  of  Kings,  whose  sins  were  to  be  visited  upon 
their  unconscious  heads.  No  wonder  they  wept — no  wonder  they  shud- 
dered on  this  dark  and  stormy  night  which  heralded  their  reign. 

The  rites  were  ended,  and  the  Dauphin  and  Dauphiness  went  silently 
together  to  their  apartments.  The  few  trusty  attendants  who  were  gath- 
ered in  the  ante-room,  greeted  them  with  faint  smiles,  and  uttered  silent 
orisons  in  their  behalf;  for  who  could  help  compassionating  these  two 
young  creatures,  upon  whose  inexperienced  heads  the  thorny  crown  of 
royalty  was  so  soon  to  be  placed  ? 

As  they  entered  the  door,  a  flash  of  lightning  that  seemed  like  the  fire 


MARIE  A>'TOINETTE.  J  93 

which  smote  the  guilty  cities  of  Israel,  flashed  athwart  their  paths,  and 
the  thunder  cracked  and  rattled  above  the  roof,  as  though  it  had  l)een 
riving  that  palace-dome  asunder.  The  Dauphiness  cried  out,  and  clung 
to  her  husband's  arm.  lie,  scarcely  less  appalled,  stood  motionless  on 
the  threshold. 

The  violence  of  the  wind  at  that  moment  had  burst  open  some  outer 
door.  The  lights  in  the  chandeliers  were  almost  extinguished,  and  one 
solitary  wax-light,  that  had  been  burning  in  the  recf'ss  of  a  window,  went 
entirely  out.  Regardless  of  etiquette,  and  of  the  presence  of  the  royal 
pair,  Monsieur  de  Campan  sprang  to  the  chandelier,  and  re-lighting  the 
candle,  quickly  replaced  it  in  the  window. 

The  Dauphin  beheld  the  act  with  astonishment,  for  no  one  at  that 
court  was  more  observant  of  decorum  than  Monsieur  de  Campan. 

"  What  means  that  light  in  the  window  ?"  inquired  the  Dauphin,  in 
his  clear,  touching  voice. 

*'  Pardon  me,  your  Highness,  it  is  merely  a  ceremony,"  replied  Moa- 
Bieur  de  Campan,  confused. 

*' What  ceremony?"  asked  the  Dauphin,  with  surprise. 

"Your  Highness  commands  me?" 

"  I  request  you — if  the  Dauphiness  permits,"  said  Louis,  turning  to 
his  wife,  who  almost  exhausted,  leant  for  support  against  him,  and  bow- 
ed her  head. 

"  Your  Majesty  has  given  orders  that  as  soon  as  the  event,  which  is 
about  to  take  place,  has  occurred,  the  whole  court  shall  leave  Versailles 
for  Choisy.  Now  it  would  not  be  possible  to  issue  verbal  orders  in 
such  a  moment  as  the  one  which  we  await ;  so  that  the  Master  of  the 
Horse  and  myself  had  agreed  upon  a  signal  by  which  the  matter  could 
be  arranged  without  speech.  The  Guardes  dit  corps,  pages,  equerries, 
coaches,  coachmen  and  out-riders,  are  all  assembled  in  the  court-yard, 
their  eyes  fixed  upon  this  light.  As  soon  as  it  is  extinguished,  it  will  be 
understood  that  the  moment  has  arrived  when  the  court  is  to  leave 
Versailles. 

*'The  disappearance  of  the  light  then,  will  communicate  the  tidings 
of  the  King's  death  ?" 

Monsieur  de  Campan  bowed.  Louis  drew  his  wife  hurriedly  forward, 
and  passed  into  another  room,  where,  with  his  hands  folded  behind  him, 
he  walked  to  and  fro. 

"  God  is  just,''  murmured  he  to  himself,  "  and  there  is  retribution  in 
Heaven." 

Marie  Antoinette,  whose  large  violet  eyes  had  followed  her  husband's 
motions,  raised  them  to  his  face  with  a  look  of  inquiry.  She  rose  from 
the  divan  on  which  she  was  sitting,  and  putting  her  small,  white  hand 
upon  the  Dauphin's  shoulder,  said, 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Louis  ?" 

"  I  mean  that  this  solitary  light,  for  whose  disappearance  these  people 
are  waiting,  shines  in  retribution  for  the  fearful  death-bed  of  my  fiither." 

"  I  do  not  understand."  •.' 

13 


i  94  JOSEPH  THE  SECOND. 

*'  No,  Antoinette,  how  should  you  ?  You  have  never  heard  the  tragic 
story  of. my  father's  death,  have  you?" 

"  No,  my  husband,"  said  she,  tenderly,  "  tell  it  to  me  now." 

"  I  will,  Antoinette.  He  was  one  of  the  best  and  truest. hearts  that 
ever  lived,  and  yet  these  selfish  courtiers  all  forsook  him  in  his  dying 
hour.  He  lay  alone  and  abandoned  in  his  room  by  all  save  my  angelio. 
jnother,  who  nursed  him  as  loving  woman  alone  can  nurse.  The  court 
was  at  Fontainebleau,  and  the  Dauphin's  father  announced  that  as  soon 
as  his  son  had  expired,  they  would  all  journey  to  Choisey.  My  father, 
who  in  an  arm-chair,  was  inhaling,  for  the  last  time,  the  balmy  breath  of 
Spring,  saw  these  hurried  preparations  for  departure  from  the  open  win- 
dow where  he  sat.  He  saw  carriages,  horses,  trunks,  lackeys  and 
equerries  ready  at  a  moment's  warning  to  move.  He  saw  that  the  sig- 
nal for  the  rushing  crowd  to  depart,  was  to  be  his  death.  Tumi ng  to 
his  physician,  he  said,  with  a  sad  smile,  "  I  must  not  be  too  long  in  dy- 
ing, for  these  people  are  becoming  impatient."* 

"  Shameful !"  cried  Marie  Antoinette,  wiping  away  her  tears. 

"  Aye,  more  than  shameful !"  exclaimed  Louis.  "  Now,  you  see, 
that  the  hour  of  retribution  has  come,  for  once  more  the  court  grows 
impatient  with  the  'length  of  a  dying  sovereign's  agony.  Oh,  would 
tKat  my  noble  father  were  alive !  How  much  more  worthy  was  he  to 
be  a  King  than  I." 

"From  my  heart  I  echo  your  wish,"  said  Antoinette,  fervently, 
*'  How  was  it  that  he  died  so  young?'* 

Louis  looked  searchingly  at  tbe  face  of  his  young  wife.  "  He  died  oC 
a  malady  whose  name  is  an  impeachment  of  the  honor  of  those  who 
survive  him,"  said  the  Dauphin,  sternly,  '•  and  my  mother  died  of  the 
fiame  disease.f  But  let  us  not  throw  any  darker  shadows  over  the 
gloom  of  this  heavy  hour.     I  am  stifled — I  have  a  presentment  of " 

A  loud  shout  interrupted  the  Dauphin.  It  came  nearer  and  nearer,  and 
now  it  reached  the  ante-room  where  the  crowding  courtiers  were  pour- 
ing in  to  greet  King  Louis  XVL 

The  Dauphin  and  his  wife  were  at  no  loss  to  understand  these  shouts. 
They  exchanged  glances  of  fear,  and  side  by  side,  they  fell  upon  their 
knees,  while,  with  tear-streaming  eyes,  they  faltered :  "  Oh,  God  have 
mercy  upon  us,  we  are  so  young  to  reign  !"J 

The  doors  were  thrown  open,  and  the  Mistress  of  Ceremonies  of  Marie 
Antoinetta  appeared.  Behind  her  came  a  multitude  of  lords  and  ladies, 
their  curious  eyes  peering  at  what  they  had  never  expected  to  see — a 
royal  couple  assuming  the  purple,  not  with  pomp  and  pride,  biit  with 
humility,  distrust  and  prayer. 

They,  rose  and  faced  their  subjects.  Madame  de  Noailles  curtsied  so 
low  that  she  was  upon  her  knees. 

•  SoulaTie :  Memoires,  etc.,  V9I.  1. 

t  It  was  generally  believed  that  the  Dnuphin  and  his  wife  were  poisoned  by  a  political  party, 
wlioseleadcrwastheDucdeChoisenl.  The  royal  couple  belonged  to  the  anti- Austrian  party.— 
MnruQir<?e  de  Oampao.    Vol.  1,  pacre  78. 

*  NffliTi^'ri'ii  lo  "nmrai)      Vol.  I.  rntr*  7<? 


MARIE  AKTOINEITE.  195 

"Your  Majesties  will  forgive  this  intrpsion,"  said  she,  vith  all  the 
aplomb  of  her  dignity.  "  I  come  to  request  that  your  Majesties  will  re- 
pair to  the  State  reception  room  to  receive  the  congratulations  of, your 
royal  relatives  ^nd  those  of  your  court,  who  are  all  awaiting  anxiously 
to  do  you  homage." 

Such  a  request  from  the  lips  of  Madame  de  Noailles.  was  the  exac- 
tion of  an  indispensable  form  of  court  etiquette,  which  the  young  couple 
dared  not  evade. 

Arm  in  arm  they  went,  Marie  Antoinette  hiding  her  tears  with  her 
handkerchief,  and  looking  inexpressibly  lovely  in  her  childish  emotions, 
while  the  loud  greetings  of  a  magnificent  court  hailed  her  as  their 
Queen. 

While  the  consorts  of  the  royal  Princes  folded  their  sister-in-law  in 
their  arms,  the  Princes,  with  courtly  decorum,  bowed  ceremoniously  be- 
fore the  King. 

"  Permit  us,  sire,"  began  the  Count  of  Provence,  "to  be  the  first  to 
lay  our  homage  at  your  Majesty's  feet,  and  to " 

'*  My  brothers,  my  brothers  !"  cried  Louis,  deeply  affected,  "is  my 
crown  to  rob  me  of  the  dear  ties  of  kindred  ?  Oh,  do  not  call  me  King, 
for  I  cannot  afford  to  lose  the  dear  companions  of  my  childhood." 

"  Sire,"  replied  the  Count  of  Provence,  "  you  shall  not  lose  them ; 
and  for  us,  our  gain  is  two-fold.  We  receive  from  God  a  gracious 
King,  and  retain  our  much-loved  brother."  And  the  Coifnt  embraced 
the  King,  who  had  opened  his  arms  to  receive  him. 

A  quarter  of  an  hour  later,  the  Chateau  of  Versailles  was  deserted.  • 
The  courtiers,  pages,  equerries  and  lackeys,  had  all  departed,  delighted 
to  leave  that  infected  atmosphere,  within  whose  poisonous  influence  the 
iron  rules  of  etiquette  had  detained  them  while  Louis  XV.  lived.  None 
of  them  felt  inclined  to  do  homage  to  departed  royalty.  Even  the 
Dukede  Villequier,  first  gentleman  of  the  bed-chamber,  in  his  terror, 
forgot  etiquette,  and  instead  of  watching  the  King's  corpse,  he  too,  made 
ready  to  go  with  the  rest. 

"  Monsieur,"  said  the  Duke  to  Andouille,  the  King's  physician,  "  I 
leave  you  that  you  may  be  able  to  open  and  embalm  the  body." 

Andouille  grew  pale,  for  he  knew  perfectly  well  that  the  performance 
of  such  a  ceremony  as  that,  was  his  death-warrant.  However,  after  a 
pause,  he  replied,  "  I  am  ready,  your  Grace,  but  you  must  remain  to 
hold  the  King's  head.  It  is,  as  you  know,  a  part  of  your  duty  as  gen- 
tleman of  the  bed-chamber."* 

The  Duo  de  Villequier  said  nothing.  He  merely  bowed  and  hurried 
from  the  room.  Andouille  followed  his  example,  but  more  considerate 
than  the  other  attendants  of  the  King,  he  made  some  provision  for  the 
deserted  corpse.  He  sent  for  one  of  the  subordinates  of  the  palace, 
and  ordered  him"  to  watch  by  the  body.  Then,  going  to  his  carriage,  he 
saw  several  hod-men  lounging  about,  who  were  carrying  mortar  for 
some  repairs  that  were  being  made  on  the  palace.    The  physician  called 

♦■  OBnj'pRti     Vol- 1.  p«»«  79 


196  JOSEPH  THE  SECOND. 

thera,  and  bade  them  go  tell  the  lord-steward  that  the  King's  coffin  must 
be  saturated  with  spirits  of  wine,  and  his  winding-sheet  also. 

Such  were  the  preparations  that  were  made  for  the  obsequies  of  the 
defmicu  King ;  and  his  body  was  watched  by  a  few  servants  and  these 
hod-meu  whom  Andouille  had  employed  as  messengers. 


CHAPTER  XLVIIL 

THE     MKIiOK.iNDA. 

It  was  early  in  the  morning.  The  court  had  accompanied  the  King 
and  Queen  to  Choisy,  and  thither  had  flocked  the' representatives  of  ev- 
ery class  in  Paris,  to  do  homage  to  the  King  and  wish  him  a  prosperous 
reign. 

The  people  seemed  wild  with  joy,  and  nobddy  vouchsafed  a  thought 
to  the  memory  of  the  "jBien-amt',"  whose  body  was  even  now  being 
taken  to  its  last  rest,  in  the  vaults  of  St.  Denis.  The  funeral  train  was 
anything  but  imposing.  The  coffin,  placed  upon  a  large  hunting  wagon, 
was  followed  by  two  carriages,  containing  the  Due  d'Ayen,  the  Due 
d'Auraont,  and  two  Priests.  Twenty  pages  and  as  many  grooms  closed 
the  procession,  which  went  along  without  attracting  the  notice  of  any- 
body. The  burial  service  was  read  in  the  crypt  and  the  coffin  hastily 
lowered  in  the  vault,  which  was  not  only  walled  up,  but  cemented  also, 
for  fear  the  infection  imprisoned  within,  might  escape  from  the  dungeon 
of  the  dead,  and  infest  the  abodes  of  the  Jiving. 

N()t  one  of  the  royal  family  had  followed  the  body.  The  King  waa 
at  Choisy,  and  all  hearts  were  turned  to  him.  Thousands  of  men  went 
in  and  out  of  the  palace,  each  one  with  his  burthen  of  fears,  hopes,  un- 
easiness or  expectations.  Who  now  was  to  find  favor  at  court?  Would 
it  be  the  Queen  or  the  aunts  of  the  King  1  What  fate^  aVraited  Dubarry  1 
Who  would  be  Prime  Minister?  v 

While  these  matters  were  being  discussed  without,  the  King,  who  had 
not  yet  made  his  appearance,  was  in  his  cabinet.  His  disordered  mien, 
tangled  hair,  and  red  eyes,  as  well  as  the  lights  that  still  flickered  in  the 
chandeliers,  showed  plainly  that  he  had  not  been  to  bed  that  night. 

He  could  not  sleep.  The  future  lowered  dark  and  threatening  before 
Mm,  and  day  had  not  brought  comfort  to  his  affxious  mind.  Great 
drops  of  sweat  stood  upon  his  brow,  and  his  face,  never  at  the  best  of 
times  handsome,  to-day  was  less  attractive  than  ever. 

"  1  am  so  young,"  thought  he,  despondently."  "  I  know  of  no  man 
at  this  court,  in  whose  honesty  I  can  confide.     Every  man  of  them  has 


MAlUp  A^NTOl^'ETTE  197 

curried  favor  with  that  shameless  woman,  whose  presence  has  defiled 
the  throne  of  my  ancestors,  Jind  disgraced  the  declining  years  of  my 
grand-f;ither.  To  whom  shall  1  turn  ?  Who  will  aivc  counsel  to  a  poor 
Juexperienced  youth  '?" 

A  slight  knock  was  heard  at  the  door.     The  King  rose  and  opened  it. 
"  Monsieur  de  Nicolai,''  said  Louis,  surprised,  as  the   old   man  stood 
before  him  with  head  inclined.     "  What  brings  you  to  roe  ?" 
"  The  will  of  your  deceased  father,  sire." 

The  King  stepped  back  and  motioned  him  to  enter.  "Now  speak,'* 
said  he.  '•  I  know  that  you  were  with  my  father  on  his  death-bed  ;  and 
I  have  often  sought  to  win  your  friendship,  but  until  now  have  sought 
in  vain." 

"Sire,  I  was  afraid  that  if  I  betrayed  an  interest  in  your  Majesty,  I 
might  not  be  allowed  to  live  long  enoijgh  to  fulfil  the  trust  confided  to 
me  by  your  father.  I  had  sworn,  that  on  the  day  you  ascended  the 
throne  of  France,  1  would  deliver  his  will  to  your  Majesty." 
"  And  you  have  preserved  it?  You  have  brought  it  to  me?" 
"Sire,  here  it  is,"  said  the  old  nobleman,  taking  from  his  breast  a 
sealed  package,  and  laying  it  in  the  King's  hands. 

Louis  gras))ed  it  eagerly,  and  deeply  moved,  read  the  address.  "Pa- 
pers to  1)0  delivered  to  which  ever  one  of  my  sons  ascends  the  throne  of 
France." 

"Your  Majesty  sees  that  I  have  kept  my  trust,"  said  de  Nicolai. 
"  Oh,  why  is  not   my  Hither  here  to  reign  in  my  stead  !"  exclaimed 
Louis. 

"He  died,  sire,  that  he  might  be  spared  the  sight  of  the  disgrace 
which  has  overtaken  France.  He  died  4.hat  the  world  might  bear  wit- 
ness to  the  basenesss  of  those  who,  since  his  death,  have  swayed  the 
destinies  of  France.  He  did  not  die  in  vain.  Your  Majesty's  self  will 
profit  by  his  martyrdom." 

"  Yes,  I  have  heard  of  it  all.  I  know  the  invisible  hand  that  dealt 
the  death-blow  to  my  father,  my  motlier,  and  my  grand-mother.    I  know 

it  and " 

"Sire,  yoar  Majesty's  father  forgave  his  enemies,  and  through  me  he 
prays  your  Majesty  to  do  likewise." 

"  I  will  obejUl^id  Louis,  inclining  his  head,  "  and  leave  the  guiltj 
to  the  vensea^EB  Heaven." 


bej^llai 

wWgt] 
entWPy 


"  And  now^^^p  that  my  mission  is  accomplished,  allow  me  to  retire, 
and  let  me  entwilyou  to  lay  your  father's  words  to  heart." 
"  I  will  do  so,  I  promise  you.     Can  I  do  aught  to  serve  you  ?" 
"  No,  your  Majesty,  I  have  nothing  to  ask  of  man." 
The  King  gave  him  his  hand,  and  followed  him  with  wistful  eyes  un- 
til the  door  had  closed  behind  him. 

"  Oh,  how  beggard  seems  a  King,  when  he  has  nothing  wherewith  to 
recognize  the  loyalty  and  love  of  his  friends,"  thought  Louis,  with  a 
weary  sigh. 

He  took  up  the  packet  and  read  :  "  Treaty  concluded  between  Louis 


!  98  JOSEPH  THE  SKCUNJ). 

XV.  find  Maria  Theresa,  on  the  1st  of  May,  1756.  Arguments  to  prove 
that  sooner  or  later,  the  Austrian  alliance  will  be  an  injury  to  France." 

The  King  turned  over  the  pages  and  read  the  following : 

"  Whichever  one  of  my  sons  is  called  to  the  throne  of  Louis  XV. 
let  him.  hearken  to  the  warning  of  his  father.  Beware,  my  son,  of  en- 
tanglements with  Austria.  Never  seek  the  hand  of  an  Austrian  prin- 
cess, for  marriages  with  Austria  have  brought  no  blessing  to  France." 

The  King  sighed  heavily,  and  his  head  sank  upon  his  breast.  "  Too 
late — too  late,  my  father !  My  fate  is  decided !""  And  Louis  took  up 
the  second  memorandum. 

"  List  of  persons  whom  I  recommend  to  my  son,  the  King  of  France.". 

•'  Ah! — this  is  the  guide  I  was  seeking.  Let  me  see.  First, — '  Mon- 
sieur de  Maurepas — a  statesman  who  has  steadily  opposed  the  policy 
advocated  by  La  Pompadour.'  That  is  well — I  shall  recall  him  from 
banishment.  'Messieurs  de  Machault,  de  Nivernois,  de  Muy  Perigord, 
de  Broglje,  d'Estaing,'  and  others — all  men  of  honor.  How  far-sighted 
was  my  father,  in  recommending  these  men  !  They  are  the  very  nobles 
^vho  have  kept  aloof  from  the  late  King's  mistresses.  With  one  excep- 
tion. I  adopt  the  list ;  but  there  is  one  among  them,  who  stooped  to  be 
a  flatterer  of  Dubarry.  The  Due  d'Aiguillon  is  certainly  a  statesman, 
bat  he  cannot  be  of  my  ministry." 

Here  the  King  paused,  perplexed  to  know  who  should  be  appointed 
in  d'Aiguillon's  place.  Suddenly  his  face  brightened,  and  he  rose  from 
his  chair. 

•'  Marie  Antoinette,"  thought  he.  I  will  advise  with  her.  Though 
we  may  not  love  one  another,  we  are  friendly,  and  she  has  a  right  to  my 
confidence.     Besides,  she  is  intelligent  and  principled." 

Here  the  King  took  up  his  memoranda,  and  prepared  to  seek  his  wife. 
He  had  gotten  as  far  as  the  door,  when  his  expression  changed  again, 
and  his  face  once  more  wore  a  look  of  blank  despondency.  With  a 
grieved  and  perplexed  mind,  he  returned  to  the  table. 

"  No,  no,"  sighed  he,  falling  back  into  his  chair,  "  that  will  never  do. 
She  is  an  Austrian,  and  her  policy  would  be  in  direct  opposition  to  that 
of  my  father." 

For  sometime  the  poor  young  King  sat  in  profound^discouragement. 
Finally,  with  a  long,  weary  sigh,  he  raised  his  head,^jfcbegan  to  reflect 
again.     At  last  he  solved  the  difficult  problem.         ^^^^ 

"  Ah ! — I  have  it  now,"  thought  he,  heartily  relie^^^  "  I  will  go  to 
Madame  Adelaide.  She  was  my  mother's  dearesf^iend,  and  my  fa- 
ther's favorite  sister.  She  shall  be  my  counsellor.  I  believe,  that  with 
her  assistance,  I  may  succeed  in  carrying  out  the  policy  dictated  by  my 
father." 

He  gathered  up  his  papers,  and  went  into  the  ante-room,  where  he 
ordered  a  page  to  go  to  Madame  Adelaide,  and  say  "  that  the  King  would 
■visit  her  if  she  could  conveniently  receive  him."* 

*  Madam  Adelaide,  an  anti- Austrian,  and,  therefor*,  one  of  the  Queen's  enemies,  was,  tbrongh- 
()ijt  his  whole  re\ffn,  tho  connsellor  of  her  nftphev. 


MA  Kit:  ANTOINLITK.  199 


CHAPTER  XLIX. 

FRANCE    XND    ArSTRIA. 

"While  the  King  was  dosctted  with  Madame  Adelaide,  the  Queen,  on 
her^side,  was  receiving  her  royal  household.  This  ceremony  over,  ^ho 
had  gladly  retired  to  the  privacy  of  her  own  room,  there  to  restore  or- 
der to  her  confused  mind.  But  her  rest  was  not  of  long  duratiou,  for 
presently  came  Monsieur  de  Campan  to  announce  the  visit  of  the  Aus- 
trian Ambassador. 

The  Queen  received  him  fnost  cordially ;  rising  from  her  seat  and  ad- 
vancing a  few  steps  to  meet  him.  Madame  de  Noailles,  who  conform 
ing  to  etiquette,  had  entered  with  Monsieur  de  Campan,  and  was  to  re- 
main in  the  room  during  the  interview,  was  shocked  at  the  Queen,  and 
frowned  visibly. 

]\Iarie  Antoinette  paid  no  attention  to  her.  She  reached  her  hand  to 
Count  Von  Mercy  and  allowed  him  to  press  it  to  his  lips.  Again  Ma- 
dame de  Noailles  was  horror-stricken.  The  kissing  of  the  Queen's  hand 
was  a  state  ceremonial,  and  was  inadmissible  in  private. 

The  Queen  had  forgotten  the  existence  of  her  Mistress  of  Ceremonies, 
"With  sparkling  eyes  and  beaming  smiles,  she  greeted  the  old  Count, 
who,  to  her,  was  the  representative  of  all  that  she  loved — her  mother, 
her  sisters,  and  her  native  country. 

"Have  you  news  for  me  from  Vienna,  Count?"  said  she,  in  a  voice 
whose  tones  were  strikingly  like  those  of  her  mother. 

"  I  bring  to  your  Majesty  letters  of  condolence  and  of  congratulation 
from  the  Empress  and  the  Emperor." 

"  Why  you  must  be  a  conjurer,  Count.  Our  reign  is  not  twenty -four 
hours  old  yet,  and  you  bring  us  congratulations  from  Vienna!" 

"  I  will  explain,  your  Majesty,"  said  the  old  Count,  with  a  smile. 
"You  remember  that  more  than  a  week  ago,  the  King  lay  in  a  stupor, 
which,  for  some  hours,  was  supposed  to  be  death.  Duriug  this  stupor 
my  courier  started  for  Vienna,  and  the  messenger  sent  after  him,  to  stop 
the  despatchdb,  arrived  too  late.  The  answers  had  becH  sent,  and  these 
are  the  congratulatory  letters. 

The  Count  handed  his  papers,  and  as  the  Queen  cast  down  her  beauti- 
ful eyes  to  read  the  address,  she  exclaimed,  joyfully,  "  My  mother's 
handwriting  and  my  brother's  !" 

She  broke  the  seal  of  the  Empress's  letter,  and  her  countenance  fell. 

"  Nothing  but  official  papers,"  said  she,  sighing,  and  putting  them  on 
the  table.  "  I  know  the  contents  of  Joseph's  letter,  without  reading  it. 
Have  you  no  news  for  me  from  Vienna?  Think  of  something  to  tell 
me  from  home,  dear  Count." 


2U0  JOSEPH  THE  SECOI^iD. 

Count  Von  Mercy  cast  a  stolen  glance  at  the  Mistress  of  Ceremonies, 
■who,  stiff  and  watchful,  stood  close  by  the  side  of  the  Queen's  chair. — 
Marie  Antoinette  understood  the  look. 

"  Madame  de  Noailles,"  said  she,  turning  with  a  snnile  to  address  her, 
"you  will  not,  I  hope,  tnink  rae  rude,  if  I  request  you  to  allow  me  a 
few  moments  interview  with  Count  Von  Mercy.  He  has  something  to 
say  to  me  that  is  of  a  strictly  confidential  nature," 
The  Mistress  of  Ceremonies  did  nnt  appear  to  have  heard  a  word  of  this 
address.  Marie  Antoinette  reddened  and  threw  back  her  head.  "  I  re- 
quest Madame  de  Noailles,"  repeated  she,  changing  her  tone,  "  to  retire 
into  the  reception-room.  I  wish  to  speak  with  Count  Von  Mercy  alone." 

"I  mjust  be  permitted  to  say  that  your  Majesty's  request  cannot  be 
granted,"  replied  Madame  de  Noailles.  "  No  Queen  of  France  is  per- 
mitted to  receive  a  foreign  ambassador  otherwise  than  in  the  presence 
of  the  court.  I  shall  have  to  ask  his  Majesty's  pardon  for  a  breach  of 
decorum  which  I  was  too  late  to  prevent— the  reception  of  the  arnbas- 
sador  here  with  myself  alone  to  witness  the  interview." 

The  Queen's  eyes  flashed  with  anger  as  she  listened  to  this  presump- 
tuous language. 

"You  will  have  to  ask  pardon  of  no  one  but  myself,  Madame,  for 
y6ur  unseemly  language  to  your  sovereign." 

"  Excuse  mc,  your  Majesty,  I  perform  my  duty,  and  this  requires  of 
me  to  see  that  no  one  here  commits  any  breach  of  court  etiquette.  The 
laws  of  etiquette  are  as  binding  upon  the  Queen  as  upon  her  subjects, 
and  she  cannot  infringe,  them." 

"  I  announce  to  you,  Madame,  that  no  laws  of  yours  shall  be  binding 
upon  me.  The  Queen  of  France  is  here  to  make  laws,  not  to  receive 
them  ;  and,  for  the  last  time,  I  command  you  to  quit  this;  room,  and  to 
leave  me  alone  with  the  representative  of  my  imperial  mother." 

Madame  de  Noailles  made  a  deep  curtsy  and  backed  out  of  the 
room.  Marie  Antoinette  looked  after  her  until  the  last  traces  of  her 
long  train  had  vanished,  and  the  silk  portiere  had  fallen  in  its  place. 

'"Ah  !"  said  she,  taking  a  long  breath,  "at  last  I  have  gained  a  vic- 
tory. It  is  now  my  turn  to  lecture,  and  Madame  has  received  her  first 
scolding.  Well,  Count,  now  that  she  is  fairly  off,  what  have  you  to  tell 
me  from  Vienna  ?" 

Count  Von  Mercy  looked  towards  the  door,  and  having  convinced 
himself  that  it  was  well  closed,  he  drew  from  his  pocket  a  package  and 
presented  it  to  the  Queen. 

Marie  Antoinette  hastily  tore  open  the  seals,  and  began  to  read. 
"  Oh,"  said  she,  with  a  disappointed  look,  "  this  is  no  private  letter.  It 
is  nothing  but  a  letter  of  instructions,  directing  me  how  to  win  the 
King's  confidence,  so  as  to  influence  his  policy  and  secure  a  new  ally  to 
Austria.  The  Empress  need  not  remind  me  that  I  must  look  to  the  in- 
terests of  the  House  of  Hapsburg.  The  Queen  of  France  will  never 
forget  that  she  is  the  daughter  of  Maria  Theresa,  and  she  will  do  all  in 
her  power  to  promote  an  alliance  betweeij   France  and   Austria.    Tell 


ilAJlIK  AXTrHNKTTE.  201 

my  mother  that  1  will  never  cease  to  be  her  subject,  and  that  her  inter- 
ests shall  always  be  mine.     And  now  f'^r  the  other  niission." 

"Good  heavens  !"  cried  she.  after  opening  the  letter,  "  more  politic?." 
She  looked  down  the  page  and  read  :  "Pcrsonafjes  whom  1  rccoinniend 
as  suitable  for  the  comii-ellors  and  household  of  the  King."  This  was 
quite  a  long  list  in  the  Empress's  handwriting,  and  at  its  head  stood  the 
name  of  the  Due  de  Choiseul.  "The  Queen  of  France  must  use  every 
cflbrt  to  secure  his  appointnaent  as  minister,  for  he  is  sincerely  attached 
to  us." 

Many  other  distinguished  names  were  there;  but  not  one  of  those 
which  had  been  mentioned  by  the  King's  father. 

"I  will  preserve  this  papev  with  care,"  said  Marie  Antoinette,  bury- 
ing her  letters  deep  in  her  pocket.  "  No  doubt  you  know  their  contents, 
Count.  A  postscript  says,  '  Consult  frequently  with  Mercy  ;'  so  let  us 
begin  at  once." ' 

'•  Will  your  Maje'Sty  not  read  the  letter  of  the  Emperor  V 

"  Why  should  1  read  it  now  ?  It  grieves  me  to  see  these  political 
documents  from  the  hands  of  dear  relatives  who  ought  to  write  to  me 
of  home  and  love.  I  will  put  it  with  the  official  letter  of  the  Empress 
lor  the  King  to  read." 

"  Pardon  me  your  Majesty,  but  I  do  not  think  it  official." 

"Read  it  for  me  then,''  said  the  Queen,  throwing  herself  back  in  the 
deep  recesses  of  her  arm  chair.  "I  have  confidence  enough  in  you  to  be 
willing  that  you  shall  see  my  brother's  letter  should  it  even  be  a  private 
one." 

Count  Von  Mercy  bowed  and  unfolded  the  letter,  which  was  as  fol- 
lows: 

"Madam.  I  congratulate  you  upon  your  husband's  accession  to  the 
throne  of  France.  He  will  repair  the  faults  of  his  predeccssoi*^  reign, 
and  win  the  love  of  his  people.  The  French  nation  has  groaned  under 
the  inflictions  of  a  king,  who  not  only  proscribed  parliament  but  entrus- 
ted every  office  of  state  to  his  favorites.  He  banished  deCholseul,  Ma- 
lesherbes  and  Chalotais ;  and  in  their  stead  elevated  the  Maupeous,  the 
d'Arguillons,  and  that  hateful  Abbot  Terra}',  who  for  rapacity  were  none 
of  them  better  than  Dubarry  ;  and  thus  he  ended  by  losing  the  love  of 
his  subjects.  I  have  often  pitied  Louis  XV.  for  degrading  himself  as  he 
did  before  the  eyes  of  his  family,  his  subjects,  and  the  world. 

"Unite  your  efforts  to  those  of  your  husband  that  you  may  win  the 
love  of  the  French  nation.  Leave  no  stone  unturned  to  secure  their  af- 
fections, for  by  so  doing  you  will  prove  a  blessing  to  your  people. 

"Strengthen  our  alliance  with  France,  and  apply  yourself  to  the  mis- 
sion for  which  you  vrere  educated — that  of  peace-maker  between  two  of 
the  most  important  powers  of  Europe. 

"I  kiss  your  hands,  and  remain,  with  the  highest  esteem  and  conside- 
ration, your  Majesty's  friend  and  brother,  Joseph."* 

"  You  are  right,  Count,"  said  the  Queen,  as  the  ambassador  concluded 
*  Lctteni  of  Joseph  2<J,  as  clmrRcterieiic  contributions,  4c.  P.  30. 


202  JOSEPli  THE  SEiJUND. 

his  reading.  "  This  is  no  official  document,  but  a  most  significant  letter 
of  instructions.  I  am  expected  to  preserve  peace  betv/een  France  and 
Austria.  Ah!  I  fear  that  i  am  not  calculated  to  walk  the  slippery  arena 
of  politics,  and  I  confess  to  you  that  I  feel  in  nowise  drawn  towards  it. 
it  does  seem  to  me  that  a  Queen  of  nineteen  may  be  pardoned  if  she 
feels  some  desire  to  enjoy  life.  I  intend  to  begin  by  breaking  the  fetters 
which  have  hitherto  made  such  wretchec^  puppets  of  the  Queens  of 
France;  and  before  long  you  will  see  the  workings  of  my  Court  Revo- 
lution. But  there  is  one  thing  near  to  my  heart  which  you  must  assist 
me  to  compass.  The  Due  deChoiseul  must  be  Minister  of  Foreign  Af- 
fairs. I  know  that  he  desires  it,  and  I  am  under  obligations  to  him 
which  deserve  some  return.  1  owe  it  to  him  that  I  am  Queen  of  France. 
NovF  if  I  succeed  in  elevating  Choiseul  to  the  ministry,"  continued  the 
Queen  with  an  appealing  smile,  "  1  hope  that  Austria  will  be  sati.sfied, 
and  Nvill  allow  me  to  letire  from  the  field.  I'he  Due  deChoiseul  will  be 
a  much  abier  auxiliarv  t,ii:ui  I,  near  the  King ;  we  must  therefore  have 
him  recailed." 

"  Phe  Duke  arrived  in  Paris  from  Chanteloiip  this  morning,  but  does 
net  (.hiak  it  advisable  to  present  him-^elf  until  he  receives  a  message 
f,.,m  ihe  Kitig." 

•  I  will  see  that  the  messnge  is  sent."  said  Marie  Antoinette,  confi- 
deniiy.  "  The  King  will  uot  refuse  me,  I  know.  You  shrug  your  shoul- 
ders, Count.     Do  you  tliink  it  doubtful." 

"  Your  Majesty  condescends  to  speak  confidentially  with  me,"  suid 
the  Count,  seriously.  "  I  am  an  old  servant  of  your  house  and  my  hair 
has  grown  gray  in  its  service,  In  consideration  then  of  th-^  deep  affec- 
tion which  1  have  ever  felt  for  your  Majesty,  will  you  allow  me  to  speak 
with  you  frankly  ?" 

"  1  implore  you,  Count,  to  do  so." 

"Then  your  Majesty,  let  me  warn  you  to  be  careful.  Things  do  not 
work  at  this  French  Court  as  they  ought  to  do.  Your  Majesty  has  bit- 
ter enemies,  who  await  an  opportunity  to  declare  themselves  openly. 
The  Count  of  Provence  and  the  aunts  of  the  King  are  at  their  head,  and 
believe  me,  they  are  watchful  spies." 

"  Oh  my  God,"  cried  the  poor  young  Queen,  "  what  have  I  done  to 
earn  their  enmity  ?" 

"You  are  an  Austrian  Princess,  and  that  suffices  for  them.  Your 
marriage  was  a  victory  over  the  anti-Austrian  party  for  which  the  Due 
deChoiseul  will  never  be  forgive^i ;  and  Pcj  for  yourself,  if  you  give  them 
the  opportunity,  they  will  not  scrup;*^'  to  take  revenge  upon  your  own 
royal  person.  '  The  Count  of  Provence  has  a  sharp  tongue,  and  his  aunts 
and  himself  will  spare  no  means  to  wound  or  to  injure  you.  Therefore 
pardon  me  if  again  I  bid  you  beware  of  your  enemies.  There  is  Madame 
deNoailles  for  instance,  she  belongs  to  the  most  powerful  families  in 
France,  and  the  French  nation  regard  her  as  the  palladium  of  the  Queen's 
honor.  Your  Majesty  cannot  afford  to  offend  her.  It  would  be  a  great 
misfortune  for  you,  if  she  should  resign  her  office,  for  her  resignation 


MAKIJC  ANTOl.NEriK.  '2U:i 

would  place  on  the  list 'of  your  enemies  all  the  most  influential  nobles 
iix  France." 

"Is  th;it  all  ?"  asked  the  Queen  with  a  painful  blush. 

"  Yes,  your  Majesty,  and  I  thank  you  for  your  condescension  in  listen- 
ing so  long." 

''Then  hear  me,"  said  Marie  Antoinette,  rising  and  standing  proudly 
before  him.  "You  tell  me  that  I  have  enemies.  Be  it  so,  and  may  God 
forgive  them!  IJut  it  were  unworthy  the  daughter  o'f  ]\Iaria  Theresa 
to  stoup  to  conciliate  them.  With  visor  raised,  and  front  exposed,  I 
stand  before  them.  My  blameless  lit*'  shall  be  my  defeno«.  for  I  will 
so  live  that  all  France  shall  be  ni  i.ampions.  As  for  Madame  de 
Noailles,  1  will  make  no  conoessionss  o.  u^r.  My  virtue  n6eds  no  more 
protection  from  etiquette  than  that  of  any  other  wonian.  Heretofore 
the  Queens  of  France  have  been  nothing  but  Marionettes  in  the  hands 
of  their  highborn  duennas.  I  intend  to  transform  the  puppets  inio  wo- 
men, whom  the  French  nation  j;in  love  and  esteem  ;  for  I  wish  m_v  peo 
pie  to  know  that  their  QueenV  virtue  is  not  a  thing  of  form,  but  the  ve- 
ritable overflowing  of  a  heart  aspiring  to  perfection." 

"Right  royally  spoken  !''  said  a  soft  voice  behind,  and  the  Queen 
starting,  beheld  ihttKing,  who  having  opened  the  door  quittly,  had  beard 
her  last  words. 


CHAPTER  L. 

THB    kino's   list. 

Marie  Antoinette,  with  a  happy  emile,  gave  her  hand  to  her  hus- 
band. He  raised  it  to  his  lips  and  kissed  it  so  fervently  that  his  young 
■wife  blushed  with  pleasure. 

"Do  you  know  what  brings  me  to  you,  Antoinette?"  said  he  gaily. 
"The  deadly  anxiety  of  good  Madam  Etiquette.  She  met  me  in  the 
ante-room  and  confessed  that  she  had  been  guilty  of  the  crimfe  of  leav- 
ing the  Queen  alone  with  a  foreign  ambassador.  To  relieve  her  mind  I 
promised  to  come  hither  myself  and  put  an  end  to  the  treason  that  was 
hatching  between  France  and  Austria." 

"Ah '."said  Marie  Antoinette,  with  a  bewitching  pout,  "  then  you 
came,  not  to  see  me,  but  to  save  Madam  Etiquette  a  fit  of  the  vapors." 

"  I  made  use  of  her  as  a  pretext  to  intrude  myself  upon  you,"  said 
the  King,  with  embarrassm^t. 

"  Oh,  your  Majesiy  wpU  knows  that  you  need  no  pretext  to  come  io 
my  presence !"  said  Marie  Antoinette,  eagerly. 


204  JOSEPH  I'HE  SECOND. 

"  Certainly  I  require  it  just  now,  for  1  have  brol^en  up  a  charming 
tele  a-tele,^''  said  the  Kins',  bowing  to  Von  Mercy. 

''  The  Count  has  brought  ine  letters  fiom  tiie  Empress,"  said  Marie 
Antoinette.  "And  what  do  you  suppose  they  were?  /Congratulations 
upon  our  accession  to  the  throne." 

The  King  smiled,  but  expressed  no  surprise. 

"  What,  you  are  not  surprised  V  said  the  Queen.  "  Do  you  take  the 
Count  for  a  sorcerer?" 

'■■  I  take  him  for  a  true  and  loyal  friend  of  his  sovereign,"  said  Louis, 
"  and  I  only  wish  that  I  possessed  one  as  faithful.  But  I  am  not  at  all 
astonished  to  hear  of  the  congratulations,  since  the  courier  started  ofF 
with  the  news  a  week  ago." 

"Your  Majesty  knew  it  then  V 

"  A  King  must  know  all  things,"  said  he,  gravely.  "  Are  you  not  of 
my  opinion,  Count?  Is  it  not  proper  that  a  sovereign  should  possess  a 
knowledge  of  every  important  letter  which  comes  into  his  kingdom  or 
leaves  it?" 

'■'•  1  believe  so,  your  Majesty,'^  replied  the  Count,  somewhat  con- 
fused. 

"I  am  convinced  of  it,  and  so  is  the  Empress  of  Austria,"  said  the 
King,  with  a  laugh.  "She  is  admirably  well  posted  in  all  that  concerns 
foreign  courts,  and  not  a  document  leaves  the  French  Ambassy  in  Vien- 
na, of  which  she  has  not  a  copy.     Is  it  not  so.  Count  Von  Mercy  ?" 

"I  do  not  believe,  sire,  that  there  is  any  person  in  the  French  Am- 
bassy capable  of  betraying  the  interests  of  his  country  or  of  revealing 
its  secrets." 

"Then  change  your  creed.  Count, for  in  every  country  there  are  men 
open  to  bribery.  But,"  continued  he,  turning  to  the  Queen,  "  we  have 
wandered  from  our  subject — your  Majesty's  letters  from  Vienna.  Have 
you  good  news  ?"  ' 

"  It  is  mere  official,  sire,"  replied  the  Queen,  handing  the  letter  to 
the  King. 

Louis  looked  it  over ;  then  replacing  it  upon  the  table,  said,  "  And 
the  other  letters  ?" 

"  Which  other  letters?"  asked  the  Queen. 

•'  Did  you  not  tell  me  there  were  several  ?" 

"  No,  sire,"  replied  the  Queen,  reddening. 

"  What  fabels  men  do  invent !"  exclaimed  the  King.  "  A  courier  has 
just  arrived  from  the  French  Embassy,  in  Vienna,  with  despatches  in- 
forming us  that  Count  Von  Mercy  had  received,  for  your  Majesty,  one 
official  letter  from  the  Empress,  and  two  private  letters  of  instruction, 
one  of  which  contained  a  list  of  persons  recommended  by  her  Majesty  ; 
and  finally,  a  fourth  missive,  private,  from  the  Emperor  Joseph.  And 
all  this  is  pure  invention,  Count  Von  Mercy  ?" 

"It  is,  your  Majesty,"  said  the  Count,fwith  much  embarrassment, 
while  Marie  Antoinette  cast  down  her  eyes  and  blushed. 

The  King  enjoyed  their  confusion  for  awhile;  he  seemed  to  take 


MARIE  ANTOINETTK  205 

pleasure  in  this  first  triumph  of  his  regal  power,  and  a  Bmile  flitted  over 
his  rather  clumsy  features. 

"  You  see  then,"  continued  he,  *'  that  I  have  received  false  intelligence 
and  it  is  evident  that  Austrians  are  less  corrupt  than  Frenchmen,  lor  I 
am  told  that  coiint  Von  Mercy  and  Prince  Kaunitz  are  au  fait  to  every- 
thing that  transpires  in  the  palace  here.  Be  that  as  it  may,  we  intend 
to  follow  the  example  of  the  Queen.  Our  policy  shall  be  8o  frank  and 
honorable  that  all  the  world  may  know  it  and  wolcume.  But — it  oc- 
curs to  me  that  the  Mistress  of  Ceremonies  is  in  great  angui?h  of  mind. 
She  will  not  recover  her  equanimity  until  she  sees  you  again,  Cotint." 

^^In  that  case,  your  Majesty,  I  will  beg  leave  to  retire,  replied  the 
Count. 

The  King  bowed,  and  the  Queen  gave  him  her  hand. 

As  the  Count  was  about  to  raise  the  j^or/iVrg,  the  King  called  him 
back.     "  Do  you  send  a  courier  to  Vienna  to-day  1"'  asked  his  Majesty. 

"  Yes,  sire,  in  one  hour." 

"  Then  let  me  impart  to  you  a  secret,  which  I  think  will  interest  her 
imperial  Majesty,  of  Austria — my  new  ministry." 

"How!  has  your  Majesty  already  chosen  them?"  asked  Marie  An- 
toinette, anxiously. 

The  King  nodded.  "  It  was  my  first  sacred  duty  to  seek  guides  for 
my  inexperience,  and  I  have  chosen  ministers  who  are  able  statesmen, 
and  have  already  served  before." 

The  Queen's  eyes  brightened,  and  even  Count  Von  Mercy  seemed 
surprised  and  pleased. 

"Do,  your  Majesty,  let  us  have  their  names,"  said  Marie  Antoinette. 

"First,  Monsieur  de  Maurepas." 

The  Queen  uttered  an  exclaniafion.  "The  Minister  of  the  Regency, 
who  has  been  banished  for  forty  years!" 

"The  same.  He  was  a  friend  of  my  father.  He  will  be  Prime  Min- 
ister, and  as  I  am  so  unfortunate  as  to  have  to  bear  the  weight  of  royalty 
at  twenty  years,  I  have  taken  care  to  select  old  and  experienced  men  as 
my  counsellors."  ' 

"  Aitd  who  is  to  succeed  the  Due  d'Aiguillon  1"  cried  Marie  Antoi- 
nette, "  for  I  presume  that  your  Majesty  intends  to  give  him  his  dismis- 
sal." 

"  I  would  be  glad  to  retain  him  as  my  minister,"  said  the  King,  poi^it- 
edly,  "  for  his  policy  is  identical  with  mine.  He  has  the  interests  of 
prance  at  heart,  and  has  never  suffered  himself  to  be  led  away  by  for- 
eign influence.  But  unluckely,  he  was  too  iotimate  with  Dubarry,  and 
on  this  ground,  I  shall  dismiss  him." 

"  And  his  successor  1"  asked  the  Queen,  scarcely  able  to  restrain  her 
bitter  disappointment. 

"  His  successor  is  the  Count  de  Vergennes." 

"  Do  Vergennes"?"  cried  the  Queen,  scornfully.  "  He,  who  married  a 
slave  in  Constantinople." 

"  Ah,  you  have  heard  that  ridiculous  story  which  was  invented  by 


206  JOSEPH  THE  SECOND. 

Monsieur  de  Choiseul ?  Nobody  here  ever  believed  it;  and  let:  me  tell 
■you  that,  the  Countess  de  Vergtnines,  enjoys  the  esteem  and  cunsiHera- 
tion  of  all  who  know  her.  Vergennes,  hiniself,  is  a  man  of  talent,  and 
will  do  me  good  service.  The  other  ministers  are:  for  the  War  De- 
partment, Count  de  Muy  ;  for  the  Minister  of  Finance,  instead  of  that 
hateful  Abbott,  of  Terray — (was  not  that  the  Emperor's  expression?) — 
1  have  chosen  Count  de  Clugny." 

''  Count  de  Clugny  !"  said  Marie  Antoinette,  again  beginning  to  hope. 
"  Does  your  Majesty  mean  the  friend  of  the  Due  de  Choisuel?" 

"  Himself,  madam,"  said  the  King,  coolly.  "  And  while  you  are 
speaking  of  Monsieur  de  Choiseul,  I  am  reminded  that  this  is  not  the 
first  time  his  name  has  been  mentioned  to-day.  You,  Count  Von  Mercy, 
are  a  friend  of  his — I  am  not.  You  can,  therefore,  tell  me  whether  it 
is  true  that  he  has  left  Chanteloap,  whither  the  deceased  King  had  ban- 
ished him." 

"  Yes,  sire,  the  Due  de  Choiseul  arrived  this  morning  in  Paris. 

"  What  can  he  want  in  Paris  ?"  asked  the  King,  with  an  imconscious 
look,  "  Why  did  he  leave  Chanteloap  1  It  seems  to  me  that  for  the 
man  who  is  so  lucky  as  to  have  a  lauded  estate,  this  is  the  very  time  of 
year  to  stay  there.  You  had  better  advise  your  friend  to  return  to  the 
country.  And  now.  Count,  you  know  all  that  I  have  to  tell,  and  I  will 
detain  you  no  longer.  Madame  de  Noailles  must  be  in  despair.  Com- 
fort her  by  informing  her  that  you  left  the  Queen  of  France  in  the  com- 
pany of  her  husband." 


CHAPTER   LI. 

THE   FIRST    PASQUINADE. 

The  Court  had  left  Choisy  for  the  Chateau  de  la  Maette,  near  Paris. 
Hfere  the  Queen  was  to  hold  her  first  public  levee,  and  her  subjects 
longed  to  appear  before  her,  for  the  Parisians  were  enthusiastic  admirers 
of  grace  and  beauty.  Marie  Antoinette  had  won  their  hearts  by  re- 
fusing to  accept  the  tax  called  "  La  ceinture  de  la  rein^  This  tax  was 
the  perquisite  of  the  Queen  of  France  on  her  accession  to  the  throne. — 
But  having  discovered  that  the  nobles  had  managed  to  evade  it  and 
cast  the  burden  of  taxation  upon  the  poor,  Marie  Antoinette  had  re- 
quested her  husband's  leave  to  relinquish  her  right  to  it.  Like  wildfire 
the  news  of  the  young  queen's  generosity  spread  throughout  Paris;  and 
in  all  the  streets,  co/es,  and  cabarets,  the  people  were  singing  this  coup- 


MARIE  ANTOINETTE.  207 

"  Vous  renoncos  oharmante  souveraine, 

Au  plus  beau  dc  vog  levenus; 
A  quoi  vous  servirait  la  ceiuture  de  reine, 

Vous  aves  celle  de  Venus.*' 

They  sanpf,  they  shouted,  and  made  merry,  happy  in  the  posgesslon 
of  a  young  King  and  a  beauliful  Queen,  c.:isting  ne\t-r  %  thought  to- 
wards him,  who,  years  before,  had  been  sijrn.\nied  '■•  Le  Bien-aimcy* 

One  speculating  jeweller,  alone,  honored  the  memory  of  the  deceased 
King,  and  made  his  f  )rt>nie  thercbv.  Fie  nianufacturi^d  a  mnurnin"' 
bnuif-box,  of  blacli  shagreen,  wlinr^e  lid  was  oni  imenled  with  a  poit(aii 
of  the  Qneen.  He  called  his  boxes  '■•La  consolation  dans  le  chagrin^'''\ 
and  his  portrait  and  his  pun  became  ao  popular  that  in  less  than  a  week 
he  had  sold  a  hundred  thousand  of  these  boxes,  Louis,  also,  had  his 
share  of  the  national  good  will. J 

Ife  renounced  the  box  called  '■'■  Le  joyeux  asenement ;  and  to  commem- 
orate the  act,  another  snufi'-box  made  iA  af>pe,irance  in  Paris  as  a. ])en- 
dant  to  the  '"  Consuiation  in  Grief."  The  King'.<  box  coift.ained  t'he  por- 
traits of  Louis  XII.  and  Htnry  IV.  Below  th<-.<5e,  was  his  own  liktn.-*, 
with  the  follovving  inscription  :  "■  Les  pcres  du  penple^  XII  et  IV  font 
Xr/."  These  boxes  were  ds  popular  hs  those  of  ilie  Quet-n,  and  Louis 
and  Marie  Antoinette  were  the  idoKs  of  the  Parisians. 

"  Long  live  the  King  !"  was  the  cry  from  morn  till  night.  Hope 
biightened  every  eye,  and  reigned  in  every  heart.  The  peof)le  dreamed 
of  peace,  happiness  and  plenty,  and  the  fashions  symbolised  their  state 
of  mind.  The  women  dresi.ed  their  heads  with  ears  of  wheat,  and  ate 
their  rfrayt^w  from  cornucopias.  The  men  poured  out  their  enthusiasm 
in  sonnets  and  addresses,  and  everything  in  (''lance  was  couleur  de  rose. 

Coulcur  de  rose — with  one  exception.  The  an.i-Austrian  party  frown- 
ed, and  plotted,  and  hated.  Exasperated  by  the  enthusiasm  which  the 
beautiful  young  Queen  inspired,  they  watched  her  every  motion,  eager 
to  magnify  the  most  trivial  imperfection  into  crime,  hoping,  sooner  or 
later,  to  render  her  obnoxious  to  the  French  people,  and  finally,  to  com- 
pass the  end  of  all  their  wicked  intrigues — a  separation  between  the 
King  and  Queen,  and  the  disgrace  and  banishment  of  Marie  Antoinette 
to  Austria. 

.  It  was  the  day  of  the  grand  reception  at  La  Muette,  where  every 
lady  having  a  right  to  appear  at  court,  might  come  uninvited  and  be 
presented  to  the  Queen.  The  great  Throne-room  was  prepared  for  the 
occasion,  and  although  its  decorations  were  black,  they  were  tastefully 
enlivened  with  white  and  silver.  The  throne,  itself,  was  covered  with 
black  velvet,  trimmed  with  silver  fringe.  Hundreds  of  ladies  throtiged 
the  room,  all  with  their  eyes  fixed  upon  the  door  through  which  the 
Queen  and  her  court  must  make  their  entrance. 


*  Momnires  de  W'eber.    Vol.  1,  p.  4S. 

t  Meraoires  do  Mme.  do  Campan.    Vol.  1,  page  91. 

X  Thii  word  "  chaff rin,"  sienifltos  not  only  grief,  bnj  also  that  preparaHoo  of  leather,  which, la 

KnltTi'h.  lit  calTM  "  Slinitrofn  "    Hmco  'hfi  PTin. 


•208  *  JOSEPH  THE  SECOND. 

The  folding  doors  were  thrown  wide  open;  and  announced  by  her 
mistress  of  ceremonies,  Marie  Antoinette  appeared. 

A  murmur  of  admiration  was  heard  among  the  crowd.  Never  had 
the  Queen  looked  so  trmiscendairtly  lovely  as  she  did  to-day  in  her  dress 
of  deep  mournint;.  She  seemed  to  feel  the  solemnity  of  her  position  as 
Queen-consort.pf  a  great  nation,  and  the  expression  of  her  face  was  tran- 
quil and  dignmed.  No  woman  ever  represftnted  royalty  with  better 
grace  than  Marie  Antoinette,  and  the  old  coquettes  of  the  Kegency  and 
of  the  corrupt  Court  of  Louis  XV,  were  awed  by  her  stateliness.  They 
could  not  but  confess  that  they  were  in  the  presence  of  a  noble  and  vir- 
tuous woman:  therefore  they  disliked  her,  whispering  one  to  the  other, 
"  What  an  actress  !" 

Marie  Antoinette  took  her  seat  upon  the  throne.     On  her  right  and' 
left  were  the  royal  family,  and  behind  them  the  ladies  of  the  Court- 
Opposite  stood  Madame  de  Noailles,  whose  duty  it  was  to  present  those 
who  were  unknown  to  the  QueeH), 

The  presentation  began.  Forth  in  their  high-heeled  shoes  came  the 
noble-born  widows,  who,  old  and  faded,  were  loath  to  forget  that  in  the 
days  of  the  Regency  they  had  been  blooming  like  the  Queen,  and 
who,  in  happy  ignorance  of  their  crows'  feet  and  wrinkles,  were  deck- 
ed in  the  selt-oame  costumes  which  once  had  set  off  their  roses  and  dim- 
ples. 

It  was  a  ludicrous  sight — these  ugly  old  women,  with  their  jewels  and 
patches — their  extraordinary  head-dres?es-^and  their  deep,  deep  curtsies, 
painful  by  reason  of  the  aching  bones, of  three-score  and  ten.  The  young 
Princesses  dared  not  raise  their  eyes  to  these  representatives  of  by-gone 
coquetry,  for  they  wero'iifraid  to  commit  a  crime — they  were  afraid  that 
they  might  laugh.  But  the  ladies  (if  honor,  safe  behind  the  hoops  of  the 
Queen  and  h^*  sisters  inlaw,  made  merry  over  the  magnificent  old  ruins. 
Madame  de  Noailles  was  so  busy  with  the  front  that  she  overlooked  the 
rear,  where  the  lively  young  Marquise  de  Charente  Tounerre,  tired  of 
standing,  had  glided  down  and  seated  herself  comfortably  on  the  floor. 
Neither  could  she  see  that  the  Marquise,  in  the  exuberance  of  her  youth- 
ful spirits,  was  pulling  the  other  ladies  by  their  skirts,  and  amusing 
them  with  mimicry  of  the  venerable  coquettes  before  mentioned  ;  so 
that  while  etiquette  and  ceremony  were  parading  their  ugliness  in  front 
of  the  throne,  behind  it  youth  and  beauty  were  tittering  and  enjoying 
the  absurd  pageant  in  utter  thoughtlessness  of  all  consequences. 

The  mistress  of  ceremonies  was  in  the  act  of  presenting  one  of  the 
oldest,  most  shrivelled,  and  most  elaborately  dressed  of  the  ancients, 
whew. the  Queen,  attracted  by  the  whispering  behind,  turned  her  head  in 
the  direction  of  her  ladies  of  honor.  There  on  the  floor,  sat  the  Mar- 
quise de  Charente  Tounerre,  imitating  every  gesture  of  the  old  Comiesse; 
while  around  her,  the  others,  includ4ng  the  Princesses  themselves,  were 
pursing  up  their  lips,  and  smothering  their  laughter  behind  handkerchiefs 
and  fans.  The  drolleries  of  the  Marquise  were  too  much  for  the  Qiieen. 
She  turned  away  in  terror  lest  they  should  infect  her  with  untimely  le- 


MARIE  AUTOIKETTE.  209 

vity,  and  jnst  at  that  moment  the  Cointesse  made  precisely  such  a  curt- 
sy as  the  Marquise  was  making  behind  her. 

Marie  Antoinette  felt  that  her  dignity  was  departing.  She  struggled 
to  recall  it,  but  in  vain ;  and  instead  of  the  stately  inclination  which  it 
was  her  duty  to  return,  she  suddenly  opened  her  fan  to  hide  the  mirth 
which  she  was  unable  to  control. 

The  gesture  was  seen  not  only  by  the  austere  mistress  of  ceremonies, 
but  by  the  Comtessc  her-^elf  who,  furious  at  the  insult  looked  daggers  at 
the  Queen,  and  omitting^ her  third  curtsy,  swept  indignantly  to  her  place. 
A  short  pause  ensued.  Madame  de  Noailles  was  so  shocked,  that  she 
forgot  to  give  the  signal  for  another  presentation.  The  Queen's  face 
was  still  buried  under  her  fan,  and  the  Princesses  had  Ibllowed  her  ex- 
ample. Discontent  was  manifest  upon  the  countenances  of  all  present, 
and  the  lady  whose  turn  it  was  to  advance,  did  so  with  visible  reluc-' 
f«nce. 

Marie  Antoinette  recovered  her  self-possession,  and  looked  with  per- 
fect serenity  towards  the  high  and  mighty  Duchess  whose  titles  were 
being  pompously  enumerated  by  the  punctilious  mistress  of  ceremonies. 
As  ill-luck  would  have  it,  this  one  was  older,  uglier,  and  more  strangely 
bedizened  than  all  the  others  together.  The  Queen  felt  a  spasniodic 
twitch  of  her  facfe  ;  she  colored  violently,  and  opening  her  fan  attain  it 
was  evident  to  all  that  assemblage  of  censorious  dames  that  for  the 
second  time,  youth  and  animal  spirits  had  prevailed  over  decorum. 

In  vain  Marie  Antoinette  sought  to  rfepair  the  cojitreiems.  In  vain  she 
went  among  them  with  her  sweetest  smiles  and  most  gracious  words. 
Their  outraged  grandeur  was  not  to  be  appeased— she  had  offended  be- 
yond forgiveness. 

The  Areopagus  sent  forth  its  fiat.  The  Queen  was  a  frivolus  woman 
— she  had  that  worst  of  failings — a  taste  for  satire.  She  despised  all 
conventions,  aud  trampled  all  etiquette  under  foot. 

On  that  day  the  number  of  her  enemies  was  increased  by  more  than  a 
hundred  persons,  who  attacked  her  with  tongues  sharper  than  two-ed^ed 
swords.  The  first  thrust  was  given  her  on  the  morning  that  followed 
the  reception  ;  and  the  same  people  who  a  few  days  before,  had  been 
singing  her  praises  on  the  Pont-neuf,  were  equally,  "if  not  better  pleased 
with  the  ballad  of  "  La  Beine  mocqmme^''  of  which  the  cruel  refrain 
was  as  follows : 

"  Petite  reine  de  vingt  ans 
Vous  qui  traitez  si  mal  lea  gens, 
Vous  repasseiez  la  barriere 
Laire,  laire,  laire,  lanlaire,  lanla."* 


♦  Momoires  de  Mme.  de  Cainpan,  Vol.  1,  P.  90-91. 

14 


210  JOSEPH  THE  SECOND. 


CHAPTER  Lll. 

THE    NEW   FASHIONS. 

The  Queen  had  submitted  to  a  state  of  things  which  she  felt  to  be 
irremediable.  She  had  renounced  all  idea  of  interceding  with  the  King 
•  for  de  Choiseul,  for  she  felt  that  interfereuce  on  her  part  would  be  re- 
sented, and  she  could  not  atford  to  lessen,  by  so  much  as  a  shade,  the 
kindly  feelings  which  her  husband  had  began  to  manifest  towards  her. 

Louis  appeared  to  have  no  greater  happiness  than  that  which  he  found 
in  his  wife's  society.  They  were  often  seen  wandering  in  the  sha'dy 
walks  of  the  palace-gardens,  talking,  jesting  and  laughing  together,  as 
might  have  done  any  other  young  couple,  unencumbered  by  the  burden 
of  royalty.  It  had  even  happened  to  Louis  to  steal  an  arm  around  the 
graceful  form  of  the  Queen,  and  once  or  twica  to  bestow  a  shy  kiss  up-' 
on  her  ivory  shoulders. 

The  heart  of  the  King  was  thawing,  and  Marie  Antoinette,  who  had 
so  longed  and  pined  for  his  regard,  sometimes  blushed,  while  with  beat- 
ing heart,  she  indulged  a  hope  that  the  King  was  falling  in  love. 

She  sought,  by  every  means  in  her  power,  to  please  him,  and  she, 
who  hitherto,  had  seemed  indifferent  to  dress,  now  bestowed  hours  of 
thought  upon  the  toilet  of  the  day. 

The  anti-Austrian  party,  the  royal  aunts,  the  brothers  of  the  King, 
and  tlie  Orleans  family,  all  her  enemies,  observed  this  new  taste  for 
dress  with  secret  satisfaction.  Not  one  of  them  suspected  that  it  was 
aimed  at  the  heart  of  the  King,  and  that  Marie  Antoinette,  whom  they 
were  deriding  as  a, coquette,  was  coquetting  with  her  husband,  and 
dressing-  for  him  alone.  So  they  flattered  and  encouraged  .  her,  hoping 
to  divert  her  mind  from  politics  and  urge  her  on  to  ruin. 

The  Duchess  of  Chartres  had  mentioned  to  the  Queen  a  Parisian 
modiste,  who  had  instituted  a  complete  revolution  in  dress.  This  wonder- 
ful modiste,  whose  taste  in  modes  was  exquisite,  was  Madomoiselle 
Bertin.  The  Duchess  had  described  her  dresses,  laces,  caps,  and  coif- 
fures, with  so  much  enthusiasm,  that  Marie  Antoinette  grew  impatient 
with  curiosity,  ordered  her  carriage  and  sent  a  message  to  Madame  de 
Noailles  to  prepare  to  accompany  her  at  once  to  Bertin's  establishment. 

Madame  received  this  message  with  indignation,  and  instead  of  mak- 
ing ready  to  obey,  went  in  hot  haste  to  the  Queen's  reception-room. 

"  I  wish  to  drive  to  Bertin's  to  make  some  purchases,"  said  Marie 
Antoinette,  as  her  tormentor  appeared  at  the  door. 

"That  is  impossible,  your  Majesty,"  said  the  guardian  of  the  Inferno 
of  etiquette.     "  No  Queen  of  France  has  ever  set  foot  within  the  pre- 


MARIE  ANTOOfKTTE.  '>|i 

ciiicts  of  a  shop,  or  has  ever  appeared  in  a  pul>;io  place  of  that  soi  i  It 
wouldbesuchanegreg.ous  breach  of  etiquette  that  I  am  convinced 
jour  Majesty  will  not  be  jjuilty  of  it."  ^unvincea 

"Well,  said  the  Queen,  with  a  scornful  laugh,  '^  will  not  di.tnrl, 
your  virtuous  convictions.  1  will  not  be  guilty  of  that  which  no  QuLn 
of  France  has  ever  stooped  to  do,  so  that  you  cao.  have  Berlin  sent  to 
the  palace,  and  I  will  examine  her  goods  here  '" 

"Here!  Your  Majesty  Would  receive  a  modiste  in  vour  reception 
room  !"  cried  de  Noailles,.  rolling  up  the  whites  of  he^  ees  Mb' 
seech  your  Majesty  to  remember  that  none  but  the   noble  ladle.  ^L 

,trntt'""'^f^''''''   ^aW..,  are  allowed  to  ente  ^ie  QueL  ^ 
laeeDtion-roora.  'qtuct.n  a 


reeeption-roora. 


The  Queen  bit  her  rosy  l.ps.     «  Well,  then,  Madame,"  said  she  "  I 
5  '•^^7\^^'-t"^ ''!,n^y  own  cabinet.     I  presume  there  carbe  no' ob 
jec  ions  to  that  and  ,f  there  were,  I  should  certainly  not  heed  them  '' 
T^  ^"'y  ^*  °^y  «^'^«'  nevertheless,  obliges  me  to  remark  to  your 

"There  is  no  office  at  this  court  which  instifip<!  nn,,  ,^r,^   •        j- 
disobedience  of  .ho  Queen's  order.     Go  tfir.tMadre.tnd  o-derS 
Bertm  be  sent  to  me  in  an  hour."  '  "'^* 

"Oh!"  murmured  Marie  Antoinette  as  fho  M,•e^rnoo  ^r  r- 

rj/mTr  ^' " ''''  ^^"-'^  -ir/eii^^t^j^iitr  t^^  s^rs 

An  hour  later  Mademoiselle  Bertin  made  her  appearan'^e  before  th^ 
Quee^.     lour  royal  lackeys  followed  her,  laden  with  band  boxes 
fashi^nfr"""' '    "''  ^'^  ^^^^"'  "^^^^«  ^^"  ^-"Sht  me  th"  latest 

''No,  your  Majesty,"  replied  Bertin,  reverentially,  "I  brine  the  m^ 
tenals  wherewith  to  ftll  your  Majesty's  orders."  ^  *' 

rST^r^  •!?"  "°.^^o^^  t^'  *^r'°g  your  samples  of  fashions  ?"  asked  M^ 
ne  Antoinette,  with  surprise.  ^^' 

"Your  Majesty,  there  are  no  new  fashions,"  s»id  Bertin      "  Yo„. 
SJ^SnTftloilowX--^""'-^'^'^^"'-    ^^---ioes'not  ^^^Z 
I' Ah!  you  intend  that  I  shall  invent  new  fashions?-" 

thatlM;rv,"'^'J'!f^V  ^^^  Q^\e»  of  France  cannot  stoop  to  wear 
tnat  which  has  already  been  worn  by  othprs." 

"You   are   right,"   said    the   Queen,  pleased   by  the   flatterv  nf  fho 
shrewd  mo^;.-.^..     "Make   haste,  and   show  me  vour  Toodf  S  ? 
begin  at  once  to  set  the  fashions'to  the  court    JtCl  bTouiVanVmr/ 
naent  to  invent  new  modes  of  dress."  ^    '^  *"  *°'"'^- 

eo^f''^l''"'^''lV'""'^.',^°^^P^°'"^  her  boxes,  exhibited  her 
goods  -There  were  the  beautiful  silken  fabrics  of  Lvons-  th.2^ 
n.g  white  satin  besprinkled  with  boquets,  hat  rivalled'  nature  there 
ve?  aTs^'from  a!  -^-^^^eighter^ed  by  embroidery  of'gra'nd'sT 
^s  thoS'  !  fiS^  '"^°''u''°f  Valenciennes,  whose  web  was  as  delicate 
as  though  elfish  fingers  had  spun  the  threads ;  muslins,  from  India,  so 


212  JOSEPH  THE  SECOND. 

fine  that  they  could  only  be  woven  in  water ;  crapes,  from  China,  with 
the  softness  of  fiatin  and  the  sheen  of  velvet ;  there  were  graceful  Os- 
trich plumes,  from  Africa,  and  flowers  from  Paris,  so  wondrous  in  their 
beauty,  that  nothing  was  wanting  to  their  perfection  save  perfume. 

Marie  Antoinette  flitted  from  one  treasure  to  another,  her  white  hands 
at  one  moment  deriving  new  beauty  from  the  dark  velvets  upon  which 
they  rested  ;  at  another,  looking  lovelier  than  ever,  as  they  toyed  with 
the  transparent  laces.  There  was  nothing  queenly  about  her  now.  She 
was  merely  a  charming  woman,  anxious  to  out-shine  all  other  women  in 
the  eyes  of  one  man. 

\Yheu  Mademoiselle  Bertin  took  her  leave,  the  Queen  gave  her  orders 
to  return  to  the  palace  daily.  "  One  thing  I  shall  exact  of  you,  Made- 
moiselle, you  shall  disclose  the  secret  of  my  toilet  for  the  day  to 
liobody  ;  and  the  fashions  shall  be  made  public  at  the  end  of  one  week." 

Mademoiselle  Bertin,  with  a  solemnity  befitting  the  importance  of  her 
office,  swore  that  henceforth  the  hands  which  had  been  honored  by  car- 
rying out  the  ideas  of  a  Queen,  should  never  work  for  lesser  mortals  ; 
that  her  dresses  would  be  made  with  closed  doors,  and  that  she  would 
'rather  be  led  to  execution  than  betray  to  a  living  soul  the  mysteries  of 
her  royal  patroness's  toilet.* 


CHAPTER  LIII. 

THE   TEMPLE   OF   ETIQUETTE. 

The  hour  for  the  Queen's  toilet  was  one  of  ravishment  to  Madame 
de  Noailles,  for  it  was  a  daily  glorification  of  that  etiquc^tte  which  she 
worshipped,  and  which  Marie  Antoinette  abhorred.  In  that  hour,  the 
chains  were  on  her  hands  and  feet.  She  could  neither  breathe,  speak,  nor 
move,  but  in  the  narrow  limits  of  its  weary  exactions. 

The  Queen's  toilet  then,  was  Madame  de  Noailles'  triumph,  and  she 
always  made  her  appearance  in  the  dressing-room  with  an  air  of  su- 
pretae  satisfaction. 

The  first  lady  of  honor  poured  the  water  into  the  golden  basin,  and 
Marie  Antoinette,  who  at  least  had  the  privilege  of  washing  her  own 
hands,  stood  patiently  waiting  until  the  towel  had  been  passed  by  a  lady 
of  the  bed-chamber  to  the  same  lady  of  honor  who  had  poured  out  the 
water.  The  latter|,  on  one  knee,  gave  the  towel,  and  the  Queen  wiped 
her  hands.  •  ;' 

*  Madem<nBelle  Berlin,  from  that  day,  became  au  important  personage,  and  received  Biany  a  rich 
pr«i<Dt  from  noble  Isdief  anxioui  to  Icnltata  the  Qa««n  lo  dreas. 


JJ  A  Ki  t    ANH  )I  N  KIT  K.  2  I ."  - 

The  second  act  of  the  royal  toilet  began  at  the  solemn  moment  when  the 
Queen  changed  her  richly  embroidered  night  chemise  for  the  simpler 
(.me  she  wore  durincr  the  day.  This  changing  of  garinents  was  a  sub- 
lime ceremonial,  not  only  in  the  Qucsn's  drc-ssing-ioom,  but  also  in  thtt 
of  the  King.  At  the  Kinc's  great  levee,  none  but  a  Prince  of  the  blood 
had  the  right  to  reach  him  his  shirt.  By  the  lesser  leve.^,  the  nobleman 
whom  the  King  wished  to  honor,  was  called  upon  to  fill  tliis  high  otfice; 
and  the  enviable  mortal,  thus  honored,  remained  near  the  King's  person 
for  the  whole  day  ;  was  entitled  fo  dine  at  the  royal  table,  and  had  a 
seat  in  the  King's  hunting  wagon. 

Now,  at  the  toilet  of  the  Queen,  the  ceremonial  was  difTerent,  and,  as 
in  all  such  matters,  more  onerous  for  the  woman  than  for  the  man. 
The  honor  of  presenting  the  chemise  devolved  upon  the  lady  present, 
whose  rank  was  the  highest. 

On  the  particular  day  to  which  we  allude,  it  was  the  privilego.  of 
Madame  de  Noailles.  ]\farie  Antoinette  had  allowed  her  uijjht-dress 
to  slip  from  her  shoulders,  and  stood,  bared  to  the  waist,  awaiting  the 
pleasure  of  her  Mistress  of  Ceremonies.  She  crosseci  hor  beautiful 
arms  and  bent  her  head  in  readiness  to  receive  the  chemise,  which 
the  lady  of  the  bed-chamber  was  in  the  act  of  passing  to  Madame  di^ 
Noailles. 

At  this  moment  there  was  a  knock  at  the  deor,  and  the  Duchess  of 
Orleans  entered  the  room.  A  triumphant  smile  lit  up  the  face  of  INIa- 
dame  Etiquettp,  for  now  the  ceremony  would  be  prolonged.  It  was  no 
longer  her  duty,  it  was  that  of  the  Duchess  to  wait  upon  the  Queen. — 
But  the  proud  Countess  de  Noailles  could  not  condescend  to  pass  the 
garment  to  the  Duchess.  That  was  the  duty  of  the  aforesaid  lady  of 
the  bed-chamber.  The  Mistress  of  Ceremonies  .motioned  her  to  ap- 
proach, and  the  Duchess  began  to  draw  off  her  gloves. 

Meanwhile,  Marie  Antoinette,  with  folded  arms,  stood  beautiful  as 
one  of  Dean's  nymphs,  but  very  uncomfortable  in  her  beauty  •  for  she 
was  beginning  to  grow  chilly  and  her  teeth  chattered.  At  last  the 
preparations  were  made,  and  the  Duchess  advanced  with  the  coveted 
garment. 

Suddenly  she  stopped,  and  stood  perfectly  still.  She  had  heard  the 
voice  of  "  Madame,"  the  Countess  of  Provence,  and  it  v.'ould  have  been 
an  unpardonable  sin  for  the  Duchess  of  Orleans  to  deprive  a  Prince-ss 
of  the  blood,  of  handing  the  chemise  to  the  Queen. 

The  door  opened,  and  the  sister-in-law  of  Marie  Antoinette  came  in. 
The  Duchess  retreated — Madame  de  Noailles  approached  slowly  and  re- 
lieved her  of  the  chemise,  and  with  unflinching  deliberation,  again  gave 
it  into  the  hands  of  the  lady  of  the  bed-chamber. 

And  there  stood  the  Queen,  shivering  and  waiting.  Scarlet  with 
shame  and  anger,  though  trembling  from  head  to  foot,  she  murmured 
resentful  words  against  her  tormentors.  The  Princess  saw  it  ajl,  and 
hastened  to  her  relief.  Without  stopping  to  remove  her  gloves,  shft 
took  the  chemise,  and  advancing,  in  great,   haste,  to   throw  it   over  th'^. 


"214  ■  JOSHPII  THE  SECUMI 

Queen's  head,  she  struck  against  h,er  high  tovpet   and  disarranged   the 
head-dress. 

*'  Oh,  my  dear  sister,"  said  the  Queen,  laughing,  "  my  hair  will  have 
to  be  dressed  anew.'' 

I\radame  de  Noailles  drew  down  her  eyebrows,  as  she  was  accustom-' 
ed  to  do  when  irritated  by  indecorum,  and  motioned  to  the  second  lady 
of  the  bed-chamber  to  put  on  the  Queen's  shoes.  The  royal  toilet  now 
went  on  more  smoothly,  and  was  completed  according  to  form.  This 
done,  it  became  the  duty  of  the  victim  to  pass  into  her  reception-room, 
attended  by  her  ladies.  Madame  de  Noailles  had  opened  the  door  and 
stood  before  it  like  a  she-Cerberus  waiting  for  her  prey  to  pass  within, 
when  the  Queen,  still  laughing  at  her  disordered  coiffure,  threw  herself 
into  a  chair  before  her  cheval-glass,  and  said, 

'•  I  hope,  Madame,  that  etiquette  does  not  require'of  the  Queen  of 
Prance  to  appear  before  her  court  with  dishevelled  hair.  If  I  may  be 
permitted  to  express  a  preference  in  the  matter,  I  would  like  to  have 
■my  hair  in  order." 

Madame  de  Noailles  closed  the  door,  and  turned  stiffly  to  the  first 
lady  of  the  bed-chamber. 

''Oh,  no,"  said  Marie  Antoinette,  "  I  will  not'  trouble  my  good  Ma- 
dame de  Cam  pan  to-day.  Did  my  Secretary  fetch  my  hairdresser  from 
Paris?" 

"  Yes,  your  Majesty,"  said  a  lady  in  waiting,  "the' hair-dresser  is  in 
the  outer  room," 

"  Go  and  call  him,  de  Cajnpan.  And  now  ladies,"  said  Marie  Antoi- 
nette, to  the  Princesses,  "  you  shall  sec  one  of  the  demi-gods.  Leonard 
Is  called  in  the  world  of  fashion  "  7e  dieto  des  coiffures.''''  4 

"  Leonard  !"  exclaimed' Madam  de  Noailles.     "  And  has  your  Majes- ' 
ty  then  forgotten  that  the  Queen  is  not  permitted  to  be  waited  upon  by 
any  but  womanly  hands  ?" 

"The  Queen  not  permitted P^  echoed  Marie  Antoinette,  proudly. 
*'  We  shall  see  whether  the  Queen  of  France  asks  permission  of  her 
subjects  to  employ  a  male  or  female  hair-dresser!" 

The  door  opened,  and  the  discussion  was  stopped  by  the  entrance  of 
Madame  de  Campan  with  Leonard. 

"  Now,  ladies,"  continued  the  Queen,  "  be  so  good  as  to  await  me  ia 
the  reception-room.''  As  she  saw  that  the  prim  ]ips^ of  de  Noailles 
were  about  to  be  opened,  she  added  :  "the  Mistress  of  Ceremonies  and 
Ladies  of  the  Bed  Chamber  will  remain." 

Leonard's  skilful  hands  were  soon  at  work,  loosening  the  Queen's 
hair  ;  and  it  glistened,  as  it  fell,  like  glimmering  gold.  He  surveyed  it 
with  such  looks  of  enthusiasm  as  a  statuary  might  bestow  upon  the 
spotless  block  of  marble,  from  whence  he  will  fashion  ere  long,  the 
statue  of  a  goddess. 

Marie  Antoinette,  from  the  mirror,  saw  his  complacent  face,  and 
smiled.     "  What  style  do  you  intend  to  adopt  for  me?"  asked  she. 

"  The  coifwn  a  ia  Marie  Antoinette"  said  Leonard. 


MAUIt  ANTOlNliTTt 

"I  have  never  seen  it." 

Here  Leonard  sank  the  subject  and  became  the  artist.  His  head 
went  proudly  back  with  a  look  of  conscious  power.  ,,  . 

"Your  Majesty  must  not  think  me  so  barren  of  invention  that  I 
should  deck  the  head  of  my  Queen  with  s  coiffure  that  has  been  seen 
before  by  mortal  eyes." 

"Then  you  are  about  to  invent  a  coiffure  ?" 

"If  it  please  your  Majesty — if  your  Majesty  will  condescend  to  leave 
its  fashion  to  the  inspiration  of  my  genius." 

"Follow  your  inspiration  by  all  means,"  said  the  Queen,  hii^hly 
amused,  and  Leonard  began  his  work.  A  Ion?,  solemn  pause;  ensued, 
and  all  eyes  were  strained  to  see  the  result.  He  combed  the  Queen's 
hair  over  a  trellis  of  fine  wire,  then  he  introduced  two  down  cu9hionp,which 
he  had  brought  in  his  band-box,  and  after  he  had  built  him  a  tower  of 
a  foot  high,  he  too"k  a  long  breath  and  surveyed  the  structure.  Then  lie 
glaticed  at  the  toilet-table  where  lay  a  mass  of  flowers,  feathers  and 
laces,  which  Bertin  had  left. 

"  May  1  be  allowed  to  select  from  these  ?"  asked  he. 
•   The  Queen  nodded,  and  Leonard  chose  a  bunch  of  white  ostrich  feath- 
ers, which  he  prepared  to  place  in  her  head. 

"  Feathers  !"  cried  Marie  Antoinette.  "  You  surely  are  not  going  lo 
put  feathers  in  my  hair!"    ■-. 

"  Pflrdon  me/ your  Majesty,"  said  Leonard,  with  an  air  of  supreme 
wisdom,  "if  I  beg  you  to  allow  me  to  complete  my  coiffure,  before  you 
decide  upon  its  merits."  And  he  went  to  work  to  fasten  the  feathers 
in  his  tower. 

"  This  is  really  becoming,"   said  the  Queen,  not  reflecting  that  her 
•beautiful  face  with  its  lofty  brow  and  exquisite  contour,  could  bear  anv 
abomination  with  which  Leonard  chose  to  invest  it. 

"  I  adopt  the  ♦feathers,"  said  she,  "  and  allow  you  to  call  the  coiffure 
after  me.  Poor  ostriches,  they  will  not  thank  me  !  You  are,  from  this 
day,  in  my  service  Monsieur  Leonard,  and  my  steward  will  assign  you 
your  apartments." 

Leonard  bowed  with  the  dignity  of  an  artist  who  feels  that  in  the  fa- 
vor of  his  sovereign  he  has  his  merited  reward. 

' "  Come  every  morning  at  this  hour,  and  every  evening  at  seven 
o'clock,"  said  Marie  Antoinette.  "  Meanwhile,  you  arc  at  liberty  to 
dress  the  hair  of  as  many  ladies  as  you  choose." 

"  Pardon  me,  your  Majesty,"  interposed  Madame  de  Noailles.  '•  An 
old  immutable  regulation  of  the  French  court  forbids  any  person  em- 
ployed by  the  royal  femily  to  serve  a  subject ;  and  the  coiffeur  of  the 
Queen  cannot  be  allowed  to  dress  the  hair  of  any  lady  in  France." 

"  Nevertheless,  J  give  him  permission  to  dress  as  many  heads  as  he 
pleases  when- he  is  not  in  attendance  upon  myself.  What  is  the  use  of 
.1  man's  taste  and  talent,  if  it  is  all  to  be  wasted  on  one  monotonous 
employment  ?  Let  Monsieur  Leonard  exercise  his  ingenuity  upon  dif- 
ferent styles  of  women,  that  he  may  have  scope  for  |iis  imagination." 


2  1  (1  JUSEI'll,  THE  SECOND 

The  Mistress  of  Ceremonies  sighed,  and  opened  the  door.  Marie 
Antoinette  approached  it  gaily,  for  she  was  all  anxiety  to  test  the  effect 
of  her  coiffure  upon  the  ladies  in  waiting. 


CHAPTER  LIV. 

THE    NEW    FASHIONS    AND    THEIR    UNHAPPr   RESULTS. 

A  universal  murmur  of  surprise  and  admiration  was  heard  among  the 
ladies,  when  the  Queen  appeared  in  the  reception-room.  The  Countess 
of  Provence  could  scarcely  retain  her  discontent  as  she  surveyed  the 
magnificent  costume  of  her  beautiful  sister-in-law. 

For  a  few  moments  the  Queen  enjoyed  the  pleasure  of  being  sincere- 
ly admired.  Then,  advancing  to  the  Princess,  she  took  her  hand  and 
said,  "  oblige  me,  dear  sister,  by  dining  with  the  King  and  myself  en 
famille..     Let  us  have  a  social  meal  together  today."       ., 

"Certainly,  your  Majesty,  I  will  do  so  with  pleasure,  but  what  you  are 
pleased  to  call  a  family-dinner  will  lose  all  its  charm  through  the  curios- 
ity of  your  Majesty's  admirers,  who  come  from  Paris,  from  Versailles, 
and  from  All  the  ends  of  the  earth,  to  look  at  the  royal  family  taking 
their  dinner." 

"  Not  at  all,"  said  the  Queen,  eagerly.  "I  look  upon  this  daily  exhi- 
bition as  a  tyrannical  custom,  which  must  be  abolished.  It  is  too  hard 
that  we  cannot  have  our  meals  in  private,  but  must  be  gazed  at  like  an- 
imals, and  denied  the  privilege  of  confidential  intercourse.  I  have  sub- 
mitted to  be  stared  at  for  four  years,  but  the  Queen  is  not  to  be  ruled  , 
as  the  Dauphiness  has  been.  We  shall  dine  to-day  en  famille,  and  from 
this  time  the  public  have  access  to  our  dining-room  no  more." 

"That  is  delightful  news,"  answered  the  Princess,  "  but  I  pity  the 
good  people  who  are  coming  in  expectation  of  seeing  your  Majesty  at 
table." 

"They  will  return  to  their  homes,"  said  the  Queen,  slightly  raising 
her  shoulders,  "  and  when  they  reflect  coolly  on  the  subject,  they  will 
certainly  not  think  less  of  me  because  I  prefer  to  dine  like  the  rest  of 
the  world.  I  believe  that  if  we  desire  popularity  with  the  people,  we 
must  show  them  that  we  have  feeling  hearts  like  themselvCvS,  and  it  is 
by  such  means  that  I  hope  to  gain  the  love  of  the  French  nation. 

The  Princess  was  secretly  vexed  at  the  honesty  and  purity  of  the 
Queen's  motives,  but  she  forced  a  smile,  and  replied  :  "  You  have  al- 
ready succeeded  in  doing  so  ;  for  the  French  people  adore  you,  and  if 
they  oould  only  see  you   to-day  in  that  piquant  head-dress,  they  would 


MARIE  ANTUlNErfE.  217 

verify  the  saying  of  the  Mayor  of  Paris,  '  Your  Majpsty  beholds  in  us 
II  hundred  thousand  lovers.'' 

Marie  Antoinette  laughed.     "Quite    a    respectable   army,"  said  she, 
slightly  blushing,  "  but  to  complete  its  worth  it  must  be  coninianded  by 
the  King.     How  surprised  he  will  be  to  see  us  dining  in  private." 
"His  Majesty  has  not  been  consulted '?" 

"  It  is  a  surprise  which  I  have  iq  store  for  him.     He  has  often  bewail- 
ed this  stupid  custom,  but   dared   not  complain  for  fear  of  remarks.     I 
am  less  timid  than  he,  and  1  am  about  to  give  you  a  proof  of  the  same." 
"Madame  de  Noai lies,"  added  she,  aloud,  "inform   the   ushers   that 
while  the  royal  family  are  at  dinner,  no   strangers  will  be   admitted  to 
the  dining-room.     The  privilege  of  entrance  shall  cease  from  to-day." 
The  Countess  had  been  awaiting  her  opportunity  to  speak. 
"  Your  Majesty,"  said  she,  with  an  expression  of  painful  anxiety,  "  I 
entreat  of  you  not  to  revoke  that  privilege!     Believe  me,  when  I  tell 
you,  that  it  is  dangerous  to  interfere  with  customs  which  are  so  old  that 
the  people  have  grown  to  look   upon    them    as    rights.     Ever  since  the 
days  of  Francis  I.,  the  royal  family  has   dined  in    public,  and    every  de. 
cently  clad  person  has    enjoyed    the    privilege  of  enterifig  the   banquet 
room.     Moreover,  allow  me  r.o  oWerv.:-  to  your  Majesty,  that  this  pub- 
lic meal  is  an  express  ceremony  of  the  French  court,  and  it  is  indispen-  , 
sable  to  its  dignity." 

"  Etiquette,  Madame,"  replied  M.irie  Antoinette,  "is  not  made  for 
sovereigns  but  regulated  by  ihem.  You  speak  of  the  people's  rights  ; 
allow  me  to  claim  something  for  mine,  it  has  ever  been  the  habit  of 
Kings  and  Queens  to  give  commands,  not  to  receive  them.  Let  me, 
therefore,  advise  you  to  strike  out  from  your  code  of  etiquette  the  rule 
which  obliges  us  to  dine  in  public,  and  to  insert  in  its  stead,  the  follow- 
ing:  'On  days  of  festivals  or  of  public  reji;icing,  the  people  will  be  ad- 
mitted to  the  King's  dining  room.'  And  now,  sister,  let  us  take  a  turn 
in  the  park." 

So  saying,  the  Queen  took  the  arm  of  the  Princess,  and  followed  by 
the  ladies  in  waiting,  they  went  out  upon  the  terrace,  Madame  de 
Noailles  remained  behind,  in  the  large,  empty  reception-room.  Her 
face  was  pale  and  troubled,  and  she  leaned  despondently  against  the  high 
back  of  an  armchair  near  that,  from  which  the  Queen  had  just  risen. 

"  Royalty  totters   on  its    throne!"  murmured  she,  in  a  low  voice. 

"This  woman's  bold  hand  is  shaking  the  pillars  of  her  own  temple,  and 
when  it  falls  it  will  bury  both  King  and  Queen  under  its  fragments. 
She  laughs  at  etiquette  as  ridiculous  despotism  ;  she  does  not  know  that 
it  is  the  halo  which  renders  her  sacred  in  the  eyes  of  the  people.  I  see 
the  tempest  lowering,"  continued  the  Mistress  of  Ceremonies,  after  a 
thoughtful  pause.  "The  Queen  is  surrounded  by  enemies  whom  she 
defies,  and  those  who  would  be  her  friends  she  alienates  by  her  haughti- 
ness. In  the  innocence  of  her  thouirhMess  heart,  what  unhappy  prece- 
dents has  she  established  this  day.  They  are  the  dragon's  teeth,  that  , 
will  grow  armed  men  to  destroy  their  sower.    She  despises  conventions, 


2  I  S  JOSEPH  THE  SKCONIU 

and  braves  old  customs.  She  does  not  know  how  dearly  she  will  pay 
for  her  milliner,  her  hair-dresser,  and  her  dinners  in  private !  1  have 
done  my  duty.  I  have  warned  and  remnnstrated,  and  will  continue  to 
do  so  as  long  as  my  patienee  and  honor  can  endure  the  humiliationsto 
which  I  am  exposed — but  no  longer!  By  the  heaven  that  hears  me — no 
longer!" 

The  Countess  was  right.  The  apparently  trifling  incidents  of  the  day 
were  fraught  with  mouriful  consequences  to  the  Queen,  Heretofore,  lshe 
had  been  remarked  for  her  simplicity  of  dress  :  from  the  introduction 
of  Bertin  and  Leonard  into  her  household  she  dressed  with  rare  mag- 
nificence. Not  only  the  ladies  of  the  court,  but  those  of  the  city,  fol- 
lowed her  extravagance  at  a  distance.  Tliey  must  wear  the  same  jewels, 
the  same  flowers,  the  same  costly  silks  and  laces.  Ostrich  feathers  be- 
came the  rage,  and  they  were  soon  so  s:carco  that  fabulous  prices  were 
pa'd  to  import  them  for'the  use  of  the  French  women. 

The  trousseau  of  a  young  beaut^y  became  as  important  as  her  dowry. 
Mothers  and  husbands  sighed,  and  at  last  ended  by  abusing  the  Queen. 
It  was  she  who  had  set  the  example  of  this  wasteful  luxury  in  dress,  she 
who  had  bewitched  all  the  women,  so  that  they  had  gone  mad  for  a 
feather  or  flower.  Strife  was  in  every  house.  Parents  were  at  vari- 
ance with  their  children,  marriages  were  broken  ofl*  through  the  exactions 
of  the  brides,  and  on  all  sides,  the  blame  of  everybody's  domestic 
troubles  fell  upon  the  shoulders  of  the  Queen.* 


CHAPTER  LV. 


SUN   RISE. 


The  court  had  now  moved  to  Marly.  Each  day  brought  its  varieties 
of  sports,  and  the  palace  became  the  very  shine  of  pleasure.  Even  the 
King,  fascinated  by  his  wife's  grace  and  gayety,  lost  his  awkward  bear- 
ing, and  became  a  devoted  lover.  He  was  ready  to  gratify  every  whim 
of  hers,  without  ever  inquiring  whether  it  was  consistent  with  the  digni- 
ty and  station  of  a  queen.  True,  all  her  whims  were  innocent  in  them- 
selves, but  some  of  them  were  childish,  and  therefore,  inappropriate  to 
her  position. 

The  King  grew  so  bold  that  he  paid  graceful  compliments  to  the  Queen 
on  the  subject  of  her  beauty  ;  and  in  the  exuberance  of  his  young,  gush- 
ing love,  he  went  beyond  his  courtiers  in  felicity  of  expression,  so  that 
*Mad«ineCampnn,  Merooires,  etc.    Vol,  1,piifte9«. 


MAlUk  ANTOkVEriK,  219 

finally  he  became  more  eloquent  than  d'Artois,  more  impassioned  than 
de  Charfcres,  and  more  piquant  than  de  Rovence. 

Marie  Antoinette  beheld  this  transformation  with  rapture,  and  her  lit- 
tle innocent  coquetteries  with  the  Princes  and  noblemen  ol' the  Court 
had  but  one  aim — that  of  heightening  the  effect  of  her  charms  upon  her 
royal  husband. 

"  One  of  these  days,"  thought  she,  "  he  will  learn  to  love  me.  I  await 
this  day  as  nature  throughout  her  dark  winter  nights  awaits  the  rising  of 
the  glorious  sun.  Oh  how  happy  will  1  be  when  the  morning  of  my 
wedded  love  has  dawned  !" 

"  But," — added  she,  interrupting   herself  and    smiling,  "  what  a  sim- 
pleton 1  am  with  my  smiles — like  a  blind  man  enraptured  with  a  color  ! 
1  talk  of  sunrise,  I — who  am  such  a  barbarian   that  1  never  saw  the  sun 
rise  in  my  life ! — And  to  think  that  the  French  are  so  fond  of  compar- 
ing me  to  the  rising  sun  !     I  think  I  had  better  make  acquaintance  with 
the  original  of  which  1  heard  so  often  tliat  I  am  the  copy  !" 
,  So  the  Queen,  full  of  a  new  idea,  sent  for  the  Countess  de  Noailles. 
"Madame,"  said  she,  "can  you  tell  me  at  what  hour  the  sun  rises?" 
"  When  the  sim  rises !"  exclaimed  Madame,  who  had  hardly  ever 
taken  the  trouble  to  remember  that  the  sun  rose  at  all. 

"  Yes  Madame,  1  wish  to  know  at  what  hour  the  sun  rises,  and  I  Iwpe 
there  is  nothing  in  your  code  of  etiquette  that  forbids  the  Queen  of 
France  to  aspire  to  a  knowledge  of  that  very  common-place  fact." 

"  I  regret,  your  Majesty  that  I  cannot  enlighten  you,  for  1  have  never 
felt  any  interest  in  the  matter.  But  if  you  will  allow  me,  I  will  make 
the  riecessary  inquiries."  ? 

"  Do  so,  if  you  please,  Madame." 

Madame  de  Noailles  was  absent  for  pome  time.  At  last  she  returned. 
"  Pardon  me  your  Majesty  that  I  have  been  away  so  long.  But  no 
one  in  the  palace  could  give  me  the  information  1  sought,  luckily  in 
passing  one  of  the  corridors,  I  met  a  gardener-coming  in  with  fresh  flow- 
ers for  your  Majesty's  cabinet,  and  he  was  able  to  tell  me.  The  sun 
rises  at  present,  at  three  o'clock." 

"Thaijk  you.  Be  so  good  as  to  make  your  arrangements  accordingly. 
I  shall  get  up  at  three  o'clock  to-morrow  morning  and  go  out  upon  the 
hillock  in  the  garden  to  see  the  dawn  of  day." 

"Your  Majesty  would  go  out  into  the  garden  at  three  o'clock  in  the 
morning?"  said  Madame,  almost  fainting  with  horror. 

"\es  Madame,"  said  Marie  Antoinette  with  decision.  "Is  there  any 
law  in  France  to  forbid  me  a  sight  of  the  sun  at  that  hour  ?" 

"No,  your  Majesty,"  for  such  an  extraordinary  demand  could  never 
have  been  pre-supposed.  Since  France  was  a  Kingdom,  no  Queen  of 
France  has  ever  been  known  to  indulge  a  wish  to  see  the  sun  rise." 

"  Unhappy  Queens  !  I  suppose  they  were  so  profundly  engaged  in 
the-^study  of  your  favorite  code  that  they  had  no  time  to  admire  the 
works  of  God.  jBut  you  see  that  I  am  an  eccentric  Queen,  and  I  would 
go  in  all  humility  to  adore  Him  through  one  of  his  glorious  works.  And 


*22i)  JOSEPH  TUE  .SfiOONU 

as  luckily  for  me,  Etiquette  has  never  legislated  uprvn  the  suTiject.  5'ou 
have  no  grounds  for  ohjeciion,  and  J  shall  commii.  the  astoamling  indis- 
cretion of  going  out  to  see  the  sun  rise/' 

"Still,  your  Majesty  must  allow  me  to  say  that  for  all  extraordinary 
cases  not  provided  for,  in  tho  code  of  Etiquette,  the  Queen  must  have 
the  consent  of  the  King." 

"  Do  not  concern  yourself  about  that ;  I  shall  express  my  desire  to  the 
King,  and  that  will  suffice.  My  ladies  in  waiting  who  keep  Diaries  can 
then  note  with  quiet  consciences  that  on  this  day  the  Queen  of  France, 
with  the  consent  of  her  husband,  went  into  the  garden  to  ?ee  t  he  sun  rise  *?" 

Marie  Antoinette  slightly  inclined  her  head,  and  passed  into  her  dress- 
ing-room, there  to  put  herself  into  the  hands  of  Monsieur  Leonard.  The 
skilful  hair-dresser  was  in  his  happiest  vein  ;  and  when  he  had  achieved 
the  great  labor  of  his  day,  the  Queen  was  inexpressibly  charming. 

Conformably  to  her  wishes,  many  irksome  Court-customs  had  been 
laid  aside  at  Marly.  The  strict  lines  of  demarcation  between  royalty 
and  nobility  no  longer  hampered  the  daily  intercourse  of  the  sovereigns 
and  their  subjects.  The  lords  and  ladies  in  waiting  |were  at  liberty  to 
join  the  Queen's  circle  in  the  drawing-rooms,  or  to  group  themselves  to- 
gether as  inclination  prompted — Some  talked  over  the  events  of  the  day, 
some  discussed  the  new  books  which  lay  in  heaps  upon  a  table  in  one  of 
the  salons — others  again  played  billiards  with  the  King. 

To-day  the  Court  was  assembled  in  an  apartment  opening  into  the 
garden,  and  the  Queen,  who  had  just  made  her  appearance,  in  all  the 
splendor  of  her  regal  beauty,  was  the  cynosuie  of  attraction  and  of  ad- 
miration. She  stood  in  the  centre  of  the  room,  her  eyes  fixed  wistfully 
upon  the  setting  sun,  whose  dying  rays  were  flooding  park, .tieKj-aee,  and 
even  the  spot  on  which  she  stood,  with  a  red  and  golden  light.  By  her 
side  stood  the  King,  his  mild  countenance  illumined  with  joy  and  admi- 
ration of  his  young  wife's  surpassing  loveliness.  On  the  other  side  of 
the  Queen  were  the  Princes  and  Princesses  of  the  blood  ;  and  around 
the  royal  group  an  assemblage  of  the  youngest,  prettiest  and  spright- 
liest  women  of  the  aristocracy,  escorted  by  their  cavaliers,  young  nobles 
whose  rank,  worth,  and  culture,  entitled  them  to  all  the  favor  which 
they  enjoyed  at  court.  At  the  head  of  the  wits  were  the  Count  de  Pro- 
vence, the  Count  d'Artois,  and  their  kinsman,  the  Duke  de  Chartres, 
known  years  afterwards  as  "  Philippe  Egalite."  De  Chartres  and  the 
wicty  Duke  de  Lauzun  were  among  .the  most  enthusiastic  admirers  of 
the  Queen. 

The  French  court  was  in  the  zenith  of  its  splendor.  Youth  and  beauty 
were  the  rule, — age  was  the  exception ;  and  in  the  saloris  of  Marie  An- 
toinette, its  solitary  representative  frowned  through  the  deep  and  angry 
furrows  that  dented  the  wrinkled  visage  of  Madame  de  Noailles. 

To-day  the  high-priestess  of  etiquette  had  taken  advantage  of  the 
liberty  allowed  to  all,  and  had  absented  herself.  Her  absence  was  a 
sensible  relief  to  a  court,  where  no  man  was  older  than  the  King,  and 
many  a  woman  was  as  young  as  the  Queen. 


MARIE  AJNTOINETTE.  221 

For  a  time.  Marie  Antoinette's  glance  lingered  caressingly  upon  the 
garden,  thioiigh  whose  perfumed  alleys  the  evening  wind  was  Vnstling 
with  a  sweet,  lo\V"6ong.  ■  The  court,  following  the  mood  of  the  Queen, 
kept  perfectly  silent.  Of  what  were  they  thinking,  that  crowd  of  youth- 
ful triflers,  so  many  of  whom  were  hurrying  to  the  bloody  destiny  which 
made  heroes  of  coxcombs  and  heroines  of  coquettes  ! 

Suddenly  the  expression  of  the  Queen's  ftice,  which  had  been  thought- 
ful and  solemn,  changed  to  its  usual  frankness  and  gayety.  "  Ladies, 
and  gentlemen,"  said  &he,  in  that  clear,  rich  voicC  of  her.s,  which  always 
reminded  one  of  little  silver  bells,  "  1  have  a  riddle  to  propose." 

"A  riddle!"  echoed  the  company,  crowding  around  to  hear. 

"Yes,  a  riddle,  and  woe  to  those  who  cannot  guess  it !  They  will  be 
sentenced  to  sit  up  this  whole  night  long." 

"A  severe  sentence,"  said  the  King,  with  a  sigh.  "May  I  not  be 
one  of  the  condemned.     Well,  then,  lovely  sphinx,  tell  us  your  riddle." 

"  Listen  all !"  said  Marie  Antoinette,  "  and  strain  your  every  faculty 
to  its  solution.  Princes  and  Princesses,  lords  and  ladies,  can  you  tell 
me  at  what  hour  the  sun  will  rise  to-morrow  ]" 

The  perplexed  company  looked  at  one  another.  Everybody  seemed 
puzzled  except  the  King.  He,  alone,  smiled  and  watched  the  counte- 
nances of  the  others. 

"  Come,  gentlemen,  you  who  are  fed  on  the  sciences — come  ladies, 
you  so  expert  to  .guess — will  none  of  you  solve  ray  riddle?"  cried  the 
lively  Queen.  "  You,  brother  Philip,  who  knows  all  things,  have  you, 
naver  asked  this  question  of  the  sun  ?" 

"  I  interest  myself,  dear  sister,  in  matters  which  concern  myself,  my 
family  and  France,"  replied  the  Count  de  Provence,  not  over-pleased  at 
'the  appeal.  "The sun,  which  belongs  to  another  world,  has  no  share  in 
my  studies  or  my  meditations."  » 

"  Condemned,"  said  the  Queen,  with  a  merry  laugh.  "  No  sleep  for 
youito-night.  And  you,  brother  d'Artois,  who  are  such  a  devotee  of 
beau  tes  have  you  never  worshipped  at  the  shrine  of  solar  magnificence  ?" 

"The  sun  roie  in  this  j*oom,  your  Majesty,  about  a  quarter  of  an 
hour  ago,"  said  Count  d'Artois,  bowing.  '•  I  can,  therefore,  safely  say 
that  in  the  Cha**au  of  Marly,  it  usually  rises  at  eight  o'clock." 

"Compliments  will  not  save  you,  d'Artois;  you  shall  not  go  to  sleep 
this  night.     And  what  say  you,  my  sisters-in-law  and  our  dear  Elizabeth  ?" 

"  Oh,  werdare  not  bo  wiser  than  our  husbands  !"  said  the  Countess  de 
Provence,  qiiinkly. 

"  Then,  you  shall  share  their  fate,"  returned  Marie  Antoinette.  "And 
now,"  continued  she,  cousin  de  Chartres,  it  is  said  that  your  merry-mak- 
ing sometimes  last  until  morning.  You  must,  then,  be  intimately  ac- 
quainted with  the  habits  of  the  rising  sun." 

"  Mi/oi,"  said  the  Duke,  with  a  careless  laugh,  "your  Majesty  is 
right.  My  vigils  nre  frequent,  but  if  returning  from  thence,  I  have  ever 
met  with  the  sun,  1  have  mistaken  it  for  a  street-lantern,  and  have  never 
given  »  second  thought  to  the  matter." 


\ 


222  JOSEPH  THE  SECOND. 

"  Nobody,  then,  in  this  aristocratic  assembiage,  knov?8'«ught  about 
the  rising  of  the  sun,"  said  the  Queen.  .;  .  ,  ■':.  .». 

A  profound  silence  greeted  the  remark.  The  Queen's  ;faco.  grew  pen*- 
sive,  and  gradually  deepened  into  sadness. 

"  Ah !"  exclaimed  she,  with  a  sigh,  "  what  egotists  we  are  in  high-life. 
We  expect  heav:en  to  shield  and  sustain  us  in  our  grandeur,  and  never 
a  thought  do  we  return  to  heaven." 

"  Am  1  not  to  be  allowed  the  privilege  of  guessing,  Madame?"  asked 
the  King. 

"  You,  sire ,!"  said  Marie  Antoinette.  *'  It  does  not  become  the  King's 
subjects  to  put  questions  to  him,  which  he  might  not  be  able  to  answer." 

"  Nevertheless,  I  request  your  Majesty  to  give  m^  a  trial." 

"  Very  well,  sire.  Can  you  read  my.riddld  andjteilm.e  at  what  hour 
the  sun  will  rise  to-morrow  ?" 

"  Yes,  your  Majesty.  The  sun  will  risfe  at  three  o'clock,"  said  Louis, 
with  a  triumphant  smile.  •  :  :  :\ 

Everybody  wondered.  Marie  Antoinette  laughed  her  silvery  laugh, 
and  clapped  her  little  white  hands  with  joy.  "  Bravo,  bravo,  my  royal 
Oedipus  I"  cried  she,  gaily.  "The  Sphinx  is  overcome;  but  she  will 
not  throw  herself  into  the  sea  just  yet.  She  is  too  happy  to  bend  the 
knee  before  her  husband's  erudition." 

With  bewitching  grace,  the  Queen  inclined  her  beautiful  head  and, knelt 
before  the  King.  But  Louis,  blushing  with  gratification,  clasped  her 
hands  in  his,  and  raised  her  tenderly  to  her  feet.    .  ,<> 

"  Madam,"  said  he,  ''  if  I  had  the  tact  and  wit  of  my  brother  Charles, 
I  would  say  that  the  sun,  which  so  lately  has  risen,  must  not  set  so  soon 
upon  its  worshippers.  But  answer  me  one  question — what-is  the  mean- 
ing of  the  riddle  with  which  your  Majesty  has  been  entertaining  us?": 

"  May  I  answer  with  another  question  ?  Tell  me,  sire,  have  you  ever 
seen  the  sun  rise  ?"  ■  t     ,    ,■ 

"I?     No,  your  Majesty.^    1  confess  that  I  never  have." 

"  And  you,  ladies  and  gentlemen ?"  ..n; 

"  I  can  answer  for  all  that  they  have  not,"  laughed  d'Artois. 

"  Now,  sire,"  said  the  Queen,  again  addressing  her  husband,  "  tell  me 
one  thing.     Is  it  unseemly  for  a  Queen  of  France  to  see;.the  sun  risel" 

"  Certainly  not,"  answered  the  King,  laughing  heartily. 

"  Then  will  your  Majesty  allow  me  to  enjoy  that  privilege?" 

"  It  seems  to  me,  Madame,  that  you  have  no  consent  to  ask  save  that 
of  your  own  bright  eyes.  If  they  promise  to  remain  «pen  all  night, 
you  have  no  one  to  consult  on  the  subject  but  yourself," 

"  I  thank  your  Majesty,"  said  the  Queen.  "  And  now,  as  none  of  the 
company  were  able  to  solve  my  riddle,  all  must  prepare  to  sit  up  with 
^me.  May  I  hope,  sire,  that  you  will  be  magnanimous  enough  to  re- 
linquish the  right  you  have  earned  to  retire,  and  to  afford  me  the  happi- 
ness of  your  presence  also  ?"  ■ 

Louis  looked  quite  discomfitted,  and  was  about  to  stammer  out  some 
awkward  reply,  when  the  Marshal  of  the  Household  thjre.w  open  the 


MARIK  AKTOINE'lTE.  223 

doors  of  the  banquet-hall,  and  approaching  the  King,  cried  out, "  Le  Roi 
est  Hcrviy 

"  Ah !"  said  he,  nluch  relieved,  "let  us  refresh  ourselves  for  the 
vigil." 

Dinner  over,  the  cc^tnpany  pronocnaded  in  the  gardens  for  an  hour 
and  then  returned  to  the  drawing-room  to  await  the  compulsory  privi- 
lege  of  seeing  the  sun  rise.  Alarie  Antoinette,  with  the  irDpatietice  of  a 
child,  was  continually  going  out  upon  the  terrace  to  see  how  the  niwht 
waned;  but  the  moon  was  up,  and  the  gardens  of  Marly  were  bathed 
iu  a  silver  light  that  was  anything  but  indicative  of  the  dawn  of  day. 

The  scene  was  so  calm  and  lovely,  that  the  young  Queen  returned  to 
the  drawing  room  in  search  of  the  King,  hoping  to  woe  him  to  the  en- 
joyment of  the  beautiful  Nature,  which  was  elevating  her  thoughts  far 
above  the  kingdoms  of  earth,  and  peacefully  leading  her  heart  to  heaveii. 
But  the  King  was  nowhere  to  be  seen,  and  as  she  was  seeking  him  fust 
in  one  room,  then  in  another,  she  met.  the  C"unt  de  Provence. 

"I  am  charged,  Madame,"  said  he,  "  with  an  apology  from  the  King. 
His  Majesty  begs  that  you  will  pardon  him  for  making  u.se  of  his  right 
to  retire.  He  hopes  that  your  Majesty  will  not  enjoy  your  night  the 
less  for  his  absence.''* 

The  Qiieen  colored  to  her  brows,  and  her  expressive  face  gave  token 
of  serious  annoyance.  She  was  about  to  dismiss  the  company,  saying 
that  she  had  changed  her  mind,  but  she  remembered  that  by  so  doin^, 
she  might  become  the  subject  of  the  ridicule  of  the  court.  Her  pride 
whispered  her  to  remain,  and  smothered  her  instinctive  sense  of  propri- 
ety. She  looked  anxiously  around  for  Madame  de  Noaielles,  but  on 
the  first  occasion,  when  her  advice  would  have  been  welcome,  she  was 
absent.  She  had  been  told  that  etiquette  had.  nothing  to  do  with  the 
Queen's  party  of  pleasure,  and  she,  like  the  King,  had  retired  to  rest. 

Marie  Antoinette  then  motioned  to  her  fi^st  Lady  of  Honor,  the 
Princess  de  Chimay,  and  requested" her  to  say  to  Madame  de  Noailles 
that  her  presence  would  be  required  in  the  dr.awing-room  at  two  o'clocky 
when  the  court  would  set  out  iov  the  hill,  from  whence  they  would  wit- 
ness the  dawn  of  the  morrow. 

"It  is  an  unconscionable  time  coming,"  yawned  the  Countess  of 
Provence.  "See,  my  dear  sister,  the  band  of  the  clock  points  to  mid- 
night.    What  are  we  to  do   in  the  interim  ?", asked  she,  peevishly. 

"  Propose  something  l;o  while  aWay  the  time,"  said  the  Queen,  smiling. 

*'  Let  us  depute  d'Artois  to  do  it.  He  is  readier  at  such  things  than 
the  rest  of  us,"  said  the  Prineess.    ■  .     •  . 

"Does  your  Majesty  second  the  proposal?"  asked  d'Artois. 

"  I  do,  with  all  my  heart. 

"Then,"  said  the  thoughtless  Prince,  " I  propose  that  we  play  the 
most  innocent  and  rollicking  of  games— blind  man's  buff,"*. 

A  shout  of  laughter,  in  which  the  young  Queen  joined,  was  the  re- 
sponse  to  this  proposiition,  '  •..•    ^  ^     ;  .     r. 


224  JOSEPH  THE  SECOND. 

"I  was  charged. with  the  duty  of  relieving  the  tedium  of  the  court," 
continued  the  Prince,  gravely,  "  I  once  more  propose  the  exciting  game 
of  blind-man's  buff." 

"  We  are  bound  to  accede,''  replied  the  Queen,  forgetting  her  embarr 
rassment  of  the  moment  before.  "  Let  us  try  to  recall  the  happy  days 
of  our  childhood.  Let  us  play  blind-man's  buff  until  the  sun  rises,  and 
transforms  the  children  of  the  night  once  more  into  earnest  and  reason- 
ing mortals." 


CHAPTER  LVI, 

THE    FOLLOWINO    DAY. 

The  Queen  was  alone  in  her  cabinet,  which  she  had  not  left  since  she 
had  seen  the  sun  rise.  She  had  taken  cold  in  the  garden,  and  as  a  sou- 
venir of  the  event,  had  carried  home  a  fever  and  a  cough.  But  it  was 
not  indisposition  alone  wUich  blanched  her  cheeks.  Something  migh- 
tier .than  fever  glowed  in  her  flashing  eyes,  something  more  painful  than 
malady  threw  that  deadly  paleness  over  her  sweet,  innocent  face.  From 
time  to  time,  she  glanced  at  a  paper  lying  on  the  table  before  her,  and 
every  time  her  eye  fell  upon  it,  her  brow  grew  darker. 

There  was  a  knock  at  the  door.  She  started — and  murmuring,  •'  The 
King!" — she  flung  her  handkerchief  over  the  papers,  and  throwing 
back  her  head,  compelled  herself  to  calmness,  while  her  husbanii,  lifting 
the  silken  portiere^  advanced  towards  the  table.  She  tried  to  rise,  but 
Louis  came  hastily  to  prevent  it,  saying :  "  I  come  to  make  inquiries 
concerning  vour  health,  but  if  my  presence  is  to  disturb  you,  I  will  re- 
tire." 

"Remain  then,' sire,  I  will  not  rise,"  said  the  Queen,  with  a  languid 
smile. 

"  Are  you  still  suffering  ?"  said  Louis. 

•'  Only  from  a  cold,  sire,  it  will  pass  away.". 

"  A  cold  for  which  you  are  indebted  to  the  chill  night-air.  It  would 
appear  that  the  Queens  of  France,  who  lived  and  died  without  seeing 
the  sun  rise,  were  not  so  stupid  after  all." 

The  Queen  gave  a  searching  look  at  the  King's  face,  and  saw  that  it 
was  disturbed. 

"  I  went  with  "your  Majesty's  consent." 

*'  I  believe  that  I  was  wrong  to  give  it,"  returned  he,  thoughtfully. — 

*  This  game  was  frequently  played  in  the  courtly  circles,  and  not  only  in  aristocratic  houses, 
but  in  all  social  gatherings.  It  became  the  fashion.  Madame  de  Genlis,  who  was  fond  of  ecourg- 
iDg  the  folllea  of  her  day,  made  this  fsRhion  the  snbjact  of  one  of  her  dramas. 


UAlilE  A:NTOIiSLTl'L".  'J'J,, 

*'  i  should  havedtemerabered  that  for  a  hundred  years  past,  the  court  of 
France  has  been  so  corrupt  that,  unhappily,  the  French  nation  have  lost 
all  faith  m  chastity  and  purity  of  heart.  You,  Madame,  must  teach 
them  to  distinguish  the  innocence  which  has  nothinj;  to  concetti,  from  the 
depravity  which  has  lost  all  shame.  But  we  must  be  cautious,  and  so 
conduct  ourselves,  that  our  actions  may  be  beyond  misconstruction." 

"  Your  Majesty  wishes  me  to  infer  that  my  harmless  desire  to  beholif 
one  of  the  glorious  works  of  my  Maker, has  been  misinterpreted'?"  naid 
the  Queen,  opening  her  large  eyes  full  upon  her  husband. 

The  King  avoided  her  glance.  '•  No,  no,"  said  he,  with  embarrass- 
ment, "  I  speak  not  of  what  has  been,  but  of  what  might  be." 

"And  this  most  innocent  of  wishes  has  inspired  your  Majesty  with 
these  apprehensions  ?" 

"  I  do  not  say  so,  but " 

"  But  your  IMajesty  knows  that  it  is  so,"  cried  the  Queen.  "  It  is 
very  generous  of  you  to  save  my  feelings  by  concealing  that  which  you 
know  must  subject  mo  to  mortification ;  but  others  here  are  less  mag- 
nanimous than  you,  sire.  I  have  already  seen  the  obscene  libel  to 
which   my  pleasure-party  has   given  birth.     I   have   read  '  Xc  ^«t;cr  cfe 

"  Who  has  dared  to  insult  you  by  the  sight  of  it?"  asked  Louis,  in- 
dignantly. 

"  Oh,  sire,"  said  Marie  Antoinette,  bitterly,  "  there  are  always  good 
friends,  who  are  ready  to  wound  us  with  the  weapons  of  others !  I 
found  the  lampoon  on  my  table  this  morning  among  my  letters." 

"  You  shall  not  be  exposed  to  a  repetition  of  this  :  Campan  shall  look 
over  your  papers  before  he  presents  them." 

"Do  you  think  I  am  likely  to  liud  them  often,  sire?  I  hope 
not ;  buk*be  that  as  it  may,  I  am  not  a  coward.  1  have  courage  to  face 
any  amount  of  calumny ;  for  my  heart  is  pure,  and  my  life  will  vindi- 
cate me." 

"  It  will,  indeed,"  said  the  King,  tenderly,  "  but  you  must  keep  aloof 
from  the  poisonous  atmosphere  of  Slander.  We  must  live  less  among 
the  multitude." 

"  Ah,  sire,  how  can  we  keep  aloof  from  those  who  have  the  right  to 
be  near  us?" 

The  King  started,  almost  imperceptibly,  and  his  anxious  glance  rested 
upon  his  wife's  honest,  truthful  eyes.  Removing  her  handkerchief,  she 
pointed  to  a  paper. 

"This  is  the  envelope  in  which  I  found  '  Le  lever  de  raurorc.''  The 
handwriting  is  disguised,  but  tell  me  frankly,  if  you  do  not  recognise  it. 

^"  I — really — I  may  be  mistaken," — began  the  King.  "  but " 

"  Nay — you  see  that  is  the  hand  olj.  the  Count  de  Provence,  your 
own  brother,  sire.  He  it  ia  who  enjoys  the  cruel  satisfaction  of  having 
forced  this  indecent  libel  upon  my  notice,  and  I  doubt  not,  for  one  rap 
ment,  that  he  also  is  the  one  who  sent  it  to  you." 


225  JUSKPH  THE  SECOND. 

"  Yes,  no  doubt  he  did  it  to  warn  us,  and  we  must  be  grateful,  and 
take  the  warning  to  our  hearts." 

The  Queen  laughed  scornfully.  "Does  your  Majesty  suppose  that 
these  drawings  were  made  with  the  same  benevolent  intention  ?"  said 
she,  handing  him  a  second  paper.  "  Look  at  these  indecent  caricatures, 
j,made  still  more  obnoxious  by  the  vulgar  observations  attached  to  them. 
There  is  no  disguise  of  his  handwriting  here,  for  this  was  not  intended 
for  my  eyes." 

"  Too  true,"  sighed  the  King,  "  the  drawings  and  the  writing  are  both 
iny  brother's.     But  who  can  have  sent  you  these  shameful  sketches?" 

"  I  told  you  just  now,  sire,  that  there  are  always  people  to  be  found, 
who  stab  their  friends  with  borrowed  weapons.  The  drawings  were  ac- 
companied by  a  letter,  informing  me  that  they  were  executed  in  the 
salons  of  Madame  Adelaide,  and  that  the  remarks  we're  the  joint  pro- 
ductions of  your  Majesty's  brother  and  your  aunts." 

The  King  passed  his  handkerchief  over  his  forehead  to  dry  the  heavy 
drops  of  sweat  that  were  gathering  there,  and  rose  up  with  the  paper  in 
his  hand. 

"Where  is  your  Majesty  going?"  asked  the  Queen. 

" To  my  brother,"  cried  he,  indignantly.  "I  will  show  him  this  dis- 
graceful paper,  and  ask  by  what  right  he  outrages  my  wife  and  his 
Queen !     I  will  tell  him  that  his  actions  are  those  of  a  traitor  and ^" 

"  And  v/hen  you  have  t-old  him  that,  will  you  punish  him  as  Kings 
panish  traitors  ?" 

The  King  was  silent,  and  the  Queen  continued,  with  a  sad  smile, 

"  You  could  not  punish  him  •,  for  the  traitor  who  outrages  the  Queen 
is  the  brother  of  the  King,  and,  therefore,  he  can  outrage  with  impu- 

"  He  shall  not  do  it  with  impunity !  I  will  force  him  to  honor  and 
love  you. 

'•  Ah,  sire,  love  will  not  yield  to  force,"  said  Marie  Antoinette,  in  a 
tone  of  anguish.  '*  Were  I  as  pure  as  an  angel,  the  Count  de  Provence 
would  hate  me  for  iny  Austrian  birth,  and  Madame  Adelaide  would  use 
the  great  influence  she  possesses  over  your  Majesty  to  rob  me  of  the 
iittle  favor  I  am  gaining  in  your  sight." 

"  Oh,  Antoinette,  do  you  not  feel  that  my  whole  heart  is  yours,"  said 
Louis,  affectionately.  "  Believe  me,  when  I  say,  that  it  is  in  the  power 
of  no  human  being  to  sully  your  sweet  image  in  my  eyes.  Do  not  fear 
the  royal  family.  I  am  here  to  protect  you,  and  soon  or  late,  your 
worth  will  overcome  their  prejudices." 

•'  No,  sire,  no.  Nothing  will  ever  win  me  their  regard.  But  I  am 
resolved  to  brave  their  enmity,  satisfied  that  in  the  eyes  of  the  world, 
my  conduct  and  my  conscience  both  will  sustain  me."  c- 

"Your  husband,  also,"  said^ the  King,  kissing  her  hand.        -         * 

"  Sire,  I  hope  so,"  said  Marie  Antoinette,  in  a  tremulous  voice.  "And 
now,"  continued  she,  dashing  away  the  tear-drops  that  were  gathering 
in  her  evpy,  "  now  give  me  those  caricatures.    They   have  ?erved  to 


MAUIK  AKTOiMirrL.  227 

convince  your  Majesty  that  I  know  my  enemies  and  defy  them.  Their 
mission  is  accomplished  ;  let  us  try  to  forget  their  existence." 

She  took  the  drawings  from  his  hand,  and  tearing  them  to  pieces, 
scattered  them  over  the  carpet.  The  King  picked  up  a  lew  of  the  frag- 
ments. ^ 

"  Will  you  allow  me  to  retain  these  as  a  souvenir  of  this  hour  ?"  said 
he,  gazing  fondly  upon  her  sweet  face. 

"  Certainly,  sire." 

"But  you  know  that  Princes  can  never  receive  a  gill  without  return- 
ing one.  Therefore,  do  me  the  favor  to  accept  this,  it  is  paper  for  pa- 
per." He  drew  from  his  bosom  a  little  package  to  which  the  royal 
seal  was  alllxed,  and  Marie  Antoinette  took  it  with  a  glance  oi  surprise. 

*'  What  can  it  be  ?"  said  she,  as  she  unfolded  it. 

He  watched  her  as  she  read,  and  thought  how  beautiful  she  was,  as 
blushing  and  smiling,  she  held  out  her  hand  to  thank  him. 

"  How,  sire,"  said  she,  joyfully,  "you  make  me  this  royal  gift?" 

"  If  you  will  accept  it.  The  Chateau  de  Trianon  is  a  small  estate  ; 
but  its  mistress  may  at  least  find  it  a  home  where  she  will  have  liberty 
to  enjoy  Nature,  without  exciting  the  malevolence  of  h^r  enemies. 
No  one  can  watch  you  there,  Antoinette,  for  your  castle  is  not  large 
enough  to  lodge  your  slanderers.  It  will  scarcely  accommodate  your 
friends." 

"  How  can  lever  thank  you,  sire?"  said  she,  iu  grateful  accents. 
"  You  have  understood  my  heart,  and  have  gratified  its  weary  longings 
for  occasional  solitude.     iTiis,  then,  is  my  own  private  domain." 

"  Certainly." 

"  And  I  liiAy  rule  there  without  interference  from  state  or  etiquette." 

"  Assuredly.  As  chatelaine  of  Trianon,  you  alone  will  regulate  its 
customs,  and  all  who  visit  you  must  submit  to  your  ryjes." 

"  And  no  man  can  enter  my  chateau  without  an  invitation  ?" 

"  Not  even  the  King,  himself." 

Marie  Antoinette  smiled,  until  the  pearls  encased  within  her  coral 
lips,  dazzled  the  royal  vision. 

"  How  delightful,"  said  she.  "  I  do  not  think  that  the  Count  of  Pro- 
vence will  ever  be  invited  to  Trianon." 

"  Nor  I,"  replied  Louis. 

"  But  the  King  will  be  so  often  asked  to  come,  that  he  will  certainly 
wish  he  were  the  Count  de  Provence.  Still  he  must  promise  not  to 
come  until  he  receives  his  invitation." 

"  I  promise,  beautiful  chatelaine.'''' 

"  And  then  to  come  whenever  I  invite  him." 

"That  I  can  promise  more  safely  than  the  other." 

"  Upon  your  royal  word  ?" 

"  Upon  my  royal  word.  And  thus  I  seal  it  with  a  kiss  upon  yonx 
fair  hand." 

"  Upon  my  hand  only,  sire  1"  asked  she,  while  she  turned  a  cheek 
whose  hyc  was  like  the  rosy  liniug  of  a  seu  shell. 


T2S      '  lOSEl'H  THE  Sh'COND. 

hoa'i^  accepted  the  challenge,  and  pressed  so  passionate  a  kiss  upon 
that  cheek,  that  it  flushed  to  a  deep,  burning  crimson,  and  the  Queen's 
i?\-cs  were  east  down,  till  nothing  of  them  was  visible  except  her  long, 
dark  lashes. 

The  royal  lover,  too,  grew  very  red,  and  starame^d  a  few  inaudible 
words.  Then  bowing,  awkwardly,  he  stumbled  over  an  arm-chair,  and 
/retreated  in  dire  contusion. 

Marie  Antoinette  looked  after  her  clumsy  King  with  a  beating  heart. 

'•  Am  1  indeed  to  be  blest  with  his  love  !"  thought  the  poor,  young 
thitrg.     "  If  1  am,  I  shall  be  the  happiest  and  most  enviable  of  women." 


CHAPTER  LVn. 

THE    LAST   APPEAL. 

The  carriage  of  the  Countess  Esterhazy  was  returning  from  a  ball 
which  the  Empress  had  given  in  honor  of  her  son's  departure  from  Vi- 
enna. Joseph  was  about  to  visit  France,  and  his  lovely  young  sister 
was  once  more  to  hear  the  sound  of  a  beloved  voice  from  home. 

It  was  long  past  midnight,  but  the  Hotel  Esterhazy  was  one  blaze  of 
light.  It  had  been  one  of  the  Countess's  first  orders  to  her  steward  that 
at  dusk  every  chandelier  in  her  palace  should  be  lighted.  She  hated 
night  and  darkfl«ss,  she  said,  and  must  have  hundreds  of  wax  lights 
burning  from  twilight  until  morning.  This  was  one  of  the  whims  of 
the  fair  Margaret,  which,  although  it  amused  all  Vienna,  was  anything 
but  comic  to  her  husband,  for  it  cost  him  one  thousand  florins  a  month. 

The  Hotel  then,  from  ground-flour  to  attic,  was  bright  as  noon-day. — 
Six  lackeys,  in  silvered  livery,  stood  on  either  side  of  the  entrance  with 
torches  in  their  hands,  to  light  their  lady  to  the  vestibule.  From  the 
inner  door  to  the  stair-case,  a  rich  Turkey  carpet  covered  the  floor,  and 
he'-e  again,  stood  twelve  more  lackeys,  performing  the  oflice  of  candela- 
bra to  the  light-loving  Countess.  At  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  stood  the 
steward  and  the  butler  of  the  household,  awaiting  such  orders  as  she 
mif^ht  choose  to  fling  at  them  on  her  way  ;  and  at  the  head  of  the  stairs, 
waiting  to  receive  her,  stood  a  bevy  of  dames  de  compagnie,  and  other 
female'attendants. 

The  Countess  passed  through  this  living  throng  without  vouchsafing 
one  wlance  in  acknowledgement  of  their  respectful  greetings.  In  pro- 
foutid  silence  she  swept  up  the  stair-way  ;  her  long,  glossy  train  of  white 
5!atin,'following  her  as  she  went,  like  the  foaming  track  that  a  ship  leaves 
>j',->on  the  broad  bosom  of  the  ocean,  and  the  diamonds,  that  decked  her 


ii A  III  1'.   A  M  U I  N  I'.'l'  1 1:      .  >  v> ; 

brow,  no.ck  nnd  arras,  flinging  showers  df  radiance  that,  dazzleti  tiie  cvt- 
]ike  lightning  when  the.  storm  is  at  its  height.  Her  head  was  thrown 
hftck,  her  largo  black  eyes  were  starry  as  ever,  and  her  face  was  so  palo 
that  its  pallor  was  unearthly. 

At  the  landinjc^placc  she  turned,  and  speaking  to  the  steward,  said  : 

"  Let  Count  Esterhazy  know  that  in    Leu  minutes  1  await  him  }n  the 
blue-rooni."     Having  said  thus  much,  she  continued  her  way,  and  disa^ 
peared  fiom  the  eyes  of  her  staring  household.  w 

TJer  di.^appoaranoe  was  the  signal  for  the  transformation  of  the  cande- 
labra into  men. 

"Did  you  hear  her?"  whispered  one.     "She  has  sent  for  the  Count." 

"Never  troubling  herself  whether  he  sleeps  or  wakes,"  said  another. 
"  Poor  man  !     He  has  been  in  bed  for  four  hours." 

♦'  No  wos..ler  he  goes  to  bed  early,"  remarked  a  third.  "  It  is  the 
only  place  on  earth  where  he  has  peace." 

"  Nevertheless,  he  will  be  obedient  and  come.     He  dare  not  refuse." 

"  Oh,  no !"  was  the  general  response.  "  In  ten  minutes  he  will  bo 
there,  or  his  amiable  Countess  will  ti'&at  us  to  a  scene  where  she  flings 
handsful  of  gold  out  of  the  windows,  and  gathers  all  the  people  in  Vi. 
enna  before  the  Hotel  to  see  the  show." 

The  servants  wero  right;  Count  Esterhazy  did  not  disobey  his  wife. 
He  trembled  when  he  received  her  message,  called  nervously  for  his 
valet  to  dress  him,  and  at  the  end  of  the  ten  minutes,  was  on  his  wav 
to  the  blue  room. 

The  Countess  was  there  before  him,  looking  like  an  angry  Queen  about 
to  condemn  a  recreant  vassal  to  death,  And  Esterhazy,  with  the  mien 
and  gait  of  a  culprit,  came  into  her  presence  with  a  bow  that  was  al- 
most a  genuflexion. 

"  You  see,  Countess,"  said  he,  "  with  what  haste  I  obey  your  com- 
mands.    I  feel  so  honored  at  the  call  that " 

He  paused — for  really  her  fiery  eyes  seemed  to  burn  him,  and  her 
contempt  dried  up  the  stream  of  his  common-place  flattery,  as  the  breath 
of  the  Sirocco  parches  up  the  dew-drop. 

"  Why  do  you  not  go  on  '?"  said  she. 
.  "lam  bewildered  by  my  own  joy,"   replied  he,  blandly.     "  Remem- 
ber— it  is'  the  first  time  since  our  marriage  that  you  have  allowed   mo 
the  privilege  of  an  interview  in  private;  and  I  may  well  lose  my  speech 
in  the  intoxication  of  such  a  moment." 

"  It  is  the  first  time.  You  have  a  good  memorY.  Can  you  also  re- 
collect how  long  it  is  since  we  had  that  interview  *?" 

"  Can  1  recollect !     Four  long  years  !'" 

"  Four  long  years,"  sighed  she,  "  to  the  dav,  and  almost  to  the 
hour." 

"  Indeed !"  exclaimed  the  Count.  "  And  can  you  forgive  mo  for  hav- 
ing forgotten  this  charming  anniversary  ?" 

"  You  are  happy  to  have  tasted  of  the  Lethe  of  indifference.  I— I  have 
counted  the  days  and  the  ho\\rs  of  my  slavery,  nnd   each  day  and  hour 


is  hramled  upon  my  heart.  Ilavn  you  forgotten,  loo,  Count  Eeterhazy, 
what  I  swore  to  you  on  that  wedding-night?" 

"Yes,  Margaret — I  have  forgotten  uli  the  cruel  words  you  spoke  to 
me  in  an  outburst  of  just  indignation." 

"I  wonder  that  ybu  should  have  Ihrgotten  them,  for  it  has  been  my 
daily  tare  to  remind  you  of  the  vow  I  then  made.  Have  I  not  kept 
my  word  ?  Rave  I  not  crossed  your  path  with  the  burning  ploughshares 
of  my  hatred?  Have  I  not  cursed  your  home;  wasted  your  wealth,  and 
made  you  the  laughing-stock  of  all  Vienna?" 

"You  judge  yourself  with  too  much  severity,  Margaret,"  said  the 
Count,  mildly.  "  True,— we  h:ive  not  been  very  happy,  since  this  is 
the  first  time,  since  our  marriage-uigbt,  that  we  are  face  to  face  without 
witnesses.  I  will  not.  deny  either  that  our  household  expenditures  have 
cost  several  njillions,  and  have  greatly  exceeded  our  income.  But  the 
lovely  Countess  Esterhazy  has  a  right  to  exceed  all  other  women  in  the 
vsplendor  of  her  concerts  and  balls,  and  the  richness  of  her  dress.  Come, 
make  me  amends  for  the  past — 1  forgive  you.  There  is  still  time  to " 

"  No  !"  exclaimed  she,  "  the  time  went  by  four  years  ago.  You  can 
never  make  amends  to  me  nor  I  to  yow.  Look  at  yourself  You  were 
then  a  young  man,  with  high  hopes  and  a  light  heart.  Many  a  woman 
would  have  been  proud  to  be  called  your  wife — and  yet  you  chose  me. 
Now,  that  four  years  of  accursed  wedded  life  have  gone  over  your  head, 
vou  have  passed  from  youth  to  old  age,  without  ever  having  known  an 
interval  of  manhood.  Audi — oh,  God!  What  have  I  become  through 
your  miserable  cowardice  !  I  might  have  grown  to  be  a  gentle  woman, 
had  fate  united  me  to  him  whom  I  love ;  but  the  link  that  has  bound  me 
to  you  has  unsexed  me.  Our  marriage  was  a  crime,  and  we  have  paid 
its  penalty  ;  yov.  are  as  weak  as  a  woman,  and  / — as  inflexible  as  a 
man." 

Two  large  tears  glittered  in  her  eyes,  and  fell  slowly  down  her  pale 
cheeks.  Count  Esterhazy  approached  and  caressed  her  with  his  hands. 
She  shuddered  at  his  touch,  recoiling  as  if  from  contact  with  a  reptile. 
Meanwhile,  he  was  imploring  her  to  begin  a  new  life  with  him — to  give 
him  her  hand,  to  make  him  the  happiest  of  men. 

"■  No,  no,  no  !"  cried  she.  "  In  mercy  cease,  or  you  will  drive  me 
mad.  But  1  will  forgive  you  even  your  past  treachery,  if  you  will 
grant  the  request  I  am  about  to  make." 

"You  will  condescend  to  ask  something  of  me!  Speak,  Margaret, 
speak.     What  can  I  do  to  make  you  happy  ?" 

"  You  can  give  me  my  freedom,"  replied  the  Countess,  in  a  soft,  im- 
ploring voice.  "  Go  with  me  to  the  Empress,  and  beg  her  to  undo 
what  she  has  done.  Tell  her  that  she  has  blasted  the  lives  of  two  hu- 
man beings — tell  her  that  we  are  two  galley-slaves,  pining  for  liberty." 

Count  Esterhazy  shook- his  head.  "The  Empress  will  never  allow 
us  to  be  divorced,"  said  he,  "  for  I  have  too  often  assured  her  that  I  was 
happy  beyond  expression,  and  she  would  not  believe  me  if  I  came  with 
Allot hrv  story." 


"  Thfn  let  us  go  to  the  foiintiiir.-hpftd,'"  said  iho  Coiinteps,  wrinjrin-' 
her  hands,  "  Let  us  go  to  the  Pope  aud  implore  him  to  loose  the  bands 
of  our  mutual  misery." 

"  Impossible.  That  would  be  a  slight  which  the  Empress  never 
would  forgive.     I  should  fall  under  her  displeasure." 

"  Oh,  these  servile  hearts  that  have  no  life  but  that  which  they  bor- 
row from  the  favor  of  Princes!"  cried  Margaret,  scornfully.  '•  What 
has  the  favor  of  the  Empress  been  worth  to  you  ?  Por  what  have  yon  to 
thank  her  1  For  these  four  years  of  martyrdom,  which  you  have  spent 
with  a  woman  who  despises  you  V 

"I  cannot  dispense  with  the  good  will  of  my  sovereign,''  said  the 
Count,  with  something  like  fervor.  "  For  hundreds  of  years,  the  Ester- 
hazys  have  been  the  favorites  of  the  Emperors  of  Austria,  and  we  can- 
not affjrd  to  lose  the  station  we  enjoy  therefrom.  No — 1  will  do  noth- 
ing to  irritate  the  Empress.  She  chose  you  for  my  wife,  and  therefore 
I  wear  my  chains  patiently.  Maria  Theresa  knows  how  T  have  obeved 
aud  honored  her  commands,  and  one  of  these  days,  1  shall  reap  the'  re- 
ward of  my  loyalty.  If  Count  Palfy  dies,  I  am  to  be  Marshal  of  the 
Imperial  household  ;  but  yet  higher  honors  await  us  both.  If  1  continue 
to  deserve  the  favor  of  the  Empress,  she  will  confer  upon  me  the  title 
of  '  Prince.'  You  refuse  to  be  my  wife,  Margaret,  but  you  will  one 
day  be  proud  to  let  me  deck  that  haughty  brow  with  the  coronet  of  a 
Princess." 

Margaret  looked  more  contemptuously  at  him  than  before. 

♦'  You  are  even'more  degraded  than  I  had  supposed,"  said  she.  "  Poor, 
crawling  reptile,  I  do  not  even  pity  you.  I  ask  you,  for  the  last  time' 
will  you  go  with  me  to  Rome  to  obtain  a  divorce  ?" 

"  Why  do  you  repeat  your  unreasonable   request,  Margaret  ?    It  is 

vain  for  you  to  hope  for  a  divorce.     Waste   my  fortune  if  you  will^ [ 

cannot  hinder  you — I  will  find  means  to  repair  my  losses  ;  and  the  Em- 
press,  herself,  will  come  to  my  assistance,  for " 

"  Enough,"  interrupted  the  Countess.  "  Since  you  will  not  aid  me  in 
procuring  our  divorce,  it  shall  be  forced  upon  you.  I  will  draw  across 
your  escutcheon  such  a  bar  sinister  as  your  princely  coronet  will  not  be 
large  enough  to  hide.  That  is  ray  last  warning  to  you.  Now  leave 
me. 

"  Margaret  I  implore  you  to  forgive  me  if  I  cannot  make  this  great 
sacrifice.     I  cannot  part  from  yo<i,  indeed,  I  cannot,"  began  the  Count. 

"And  the  Empress  will  reward  your  constancy  with  the  title  of 
Prince,"  replied  Margaret,  with  withering  scorn.  "  Go — you  are  not 
worthy  of  my  anger — but  I  shall  know  where  to  strike.  Away  with 
you." 

Count  Esterhazy,  with  a  deep  sigh,  turned  and  left  the  room. 

*'  The  last  hope  to  which  I  clun|f,  has  vanished !"  said  she,  "  and  I 
must  resort  to  disgrace.*' 

She^  bent  her  head,  and  a  shower  of  tears  came  to  her  relief.  Ihn 
they  did  not  Boften  her  heart.    She  rose  from  her  seat  nnitfering,  "  it.  i« 


too  hue  to  weep  !     I  havn   no   nlternative.     Tho.   hour  for  revenge  haa 
struck !" 


CHAPTER  LVIIl. 


Tim    FLIGHT. 
.1 


TiiF.  < 'o\-,ntess  passed  into  her  dressing-room.  She  closed  and  locked 
the  door,  then  going  across  the  room,  she  stopped  before  a  large  picture 
that  hung  opposite  to  her  rich  Venitian  toilet-mirror.  The  frame  of  this 
picture  was  ornamented  with  small  gilt  rosettes.  Margaret  laid  her  hand 
upon  one  of  these  rosettes  and  drew  it,  towards  her.  A  noise  of  ma- 
chinery was  heard  behind  the  wall.  She  drew  down  the  rosette  a  se- 
cond trme,  and  then  stepped  back.  The  whirr  was  heard  again,  the  pic- 
ture began  to  move,  and  behind  it  appeared  a  secret  door,  Margaret 
opened  it  and  as  she  did  so,  her  whole  frame  shook  as  if  with  a  deadly 
repugnance  to  that  which  was  within. 

-'  I  am  hp.re,  Count  Schulenberg,"  said  she  coldly. 
The  figure  of  a  young  raau  appeared  at  the  door- way. 

"  May  I  presume  to  enter  Paradise?"  said  he,  stepping  into  the  room 
•with  a  flippant  air. 

"You  may,"'  replied  she,  without  moving  ;  but  the  hue  of  shame  over- 
spread her  (ace,  neck  and  arms,  and  it  was  plain  to  Count  Schulenberg 
that  she  trembled  violently. 

These  were  to  him  the  signals  of  his  triumph,  and  he  smiled  with  sat- 
isfaction as  he  surveyed  this  lovely  woman,  so  long  acknowledged  to  be 
the  beauty  75a?"  excellence  of  the  imperial  court  at  Viehna.  Margaret  al- 
lowed him  to  take  her  hand,  and  stood  coldly  passive,  while  he  covered 
it  with  kisses ;  but  when  he  would  have  gone  further,  and  put  his  arm 
around  her  waist,  she  raised  her  hands,  and  receded. 

♦'•Not  here," — murmured  she  hoarsely.  "  Not  here,  in  the  house  of 
the  man  whose  name  I  bear.  Let  us  not  desecrate  love ;  enough  that 
we  defile  marriage." 

"  Come,  then,  beloveiil,  come,"  said  he  imploringly.  The  coach  is  at 
the  door,  and  I  have  passes  for  France,  Italy,  Spain  and  England. 
Qioof^e  yourself  the  spot  wherein  we  shall  bury  our  love  from  the  world's 
gaze/' 

ti  ■y^g  gQ  ^r,  Paris,"  replied  she,  tjjrning  away  her  head. 

"To  Paris,  dearest?  Why  you  have  forgotten  that  the  Emperor 
leaves  for  Paris  to-morrow,  and  that  we  incur  the  risk  of  recognition 
there" 


"  Not  at  all — F'arls  is  a  large  city,  and  if  we  aro  discovered  1  shall 
seek  protection  from  the  Emperor.  lie  knows  of  my  uijiappy  mar- 
riage and  sympathises  M'ith  my  sorrj^ws." 

"  Perhaps  you  are  right,  dearest.  Then  in  Paris,  we  spend  our  hon- 
ey-moon, and  there  enjoy  the  bliss  of  requited  love." 

"There,  and  not  until  we  reach  there,"  said  she  gravely.  "  I  require 
a  last  proof  of  your  devotion,  Count.  I  exact  that  until  we  arrive  in 
Paris  yon  shall  not  speak  to  me  of  love.  You  shall  consider  me  as  a 
sister,  and  allow  me  the  privilege  of  travelling  in  the  carriage  with  my 
maid — she  and  I  on  one  seat,  you  opposite." 

"Margaret  that  is  abominable  tyranny.  You  expect  me  to  be  near 
you  and  not  to  speak  of  love  !  1  must  be  watched  by  your  maid,  and 
:Ht  opposite  to  you  ! — You  surely  cannot  mean  what  you  say." 

"  1  do  indeed.  Count  Schulenberg." 

"  But  think  of  all  that  I  have  endured  for  a  year  that  I  have  adored 
you,  cold  Beauty  !  Not  one  single  proof  of  love  have  you  ever  given 
me  yet.     You  have  tolerated  mine,  but  have  never  returned  it." 

"bid  I  not  write  to  you  1" 

"  Wri<te  !  yes.  You  wrote  me  to  say  that  you  would  not  consent  to 
be  mine^ynless  I  carried  you  away  from  Vienna.  Then  you  went  on  to 
order  our  mode  of  travelling  as  you  would  have  done  had  I  been  your 
husband.  '  Be  here  at  such  nn  hour;  have  your  passes  for  various 
countries.  Describe  me  therein  as  your  sister.  Come  through  the 
garden  and  await  me  at  the  head  of  the  secret  stair-way.'  Is  this  a  love- 
letter'?  It  is  a  mere  note  of  instructions.  For  one  week  I  have  waited 
for  a  look,  a  sigh,  a  pressure  of  the  hand  ;  and  when  1  come  hither  to 
take  you  from  your  home  forever,  you  receive  me  as  if  I  were  a  courier. 
No,  Margaret,  no — I  will  not  wait  to  speak  ray  love  until  we  are  in 
Paris." 

"  Then,  Count  Schulenberg,  farewell.  "VVe  have  nothing  more  to  say 
to  one  another." 

She  turned  to  leave  the  room,  but  Schulenberg  darted  forward  and 
fell  at  her  feet.  "  Margarev,  beloved,"  cried  he,  "give  me  one  single 
word  of  comfort.     I  thirst  to  know  that  you  love  me." 

"  Can  a  woman  go  further  than  I  am  going  at  this  moment  ?"  asked 
Margaret,  with  a  strange,  hollow  laugh. 

"  No.  I  acknowledge  my  unspeakable  happiness  in  being  the  partner 
of  yonr  flight.  But  I  cannot  comprehend  your  love,  It  is  a  bitter 
draught  in  a  golden  beaker." 

"  Then 'do  not  drink  it,"  said  shp,  retreating. 

"  I  must — I  must  drink  it ;  for  my  soul  thirsts  for  the  cup,  and  I  will 
accept  its  contents." 

"  My  conditions?" 

"  Yes,  since  1  must,"  said  Schulenberg  heaving  a  sigh,  "  I  promise 
then  to  contain  my  ecstasy  until  we  roach  Paris,  and  to  allow  that  guar- 
dian of  virtue,  your  maid,  to  sit  by  your  side,  while  I  sufler  agony  op- 
posite.    But  oh  !  when  we  reach  Paris " 


234  jDsia'H  iBJ.  .->i^c(hM> 

"  In  Paris  we  will  talk  further,  and  my  speech  shall,  be  iinerent." 

'•Thank  you,  beloved,"  cried  the  Count  passionately. ,  "T^his  heaven- 
ly promise  will  sustain  me  throughfcini  oideal."  He  kisseS^the  tips  of 
her  tingers  and  she  retired  to  change  lur  ball-dress  for  a  travelling  habit. 

When  she  had  closed  the  door,  Uk  •xpiession  of  Count  Schulenberg's 
face  was  not  quite  the  same. 

'•The  fierce  Countess  is  about  to  he  tamed,"  thought  h'e.  "I  shall 
win  my  bet,  and  will'humble  this  insolent  beauty,  Let  her  rule  if  she 
must,  until  we  reach  Paris,  hut  there  1  will  repay  her,  and  her  chains 
shall  not  be  light.  Really  this  is  a  piquant  adventure.  I  am  making  a 
delightful  wedding-tour  without  the  bore  of  the  marriage-ceremony,  at 
the  expense  of  the  most  beautiful  woman  in  Europe;  and  to  heighten 
the  piquancy  of  the  affair.  I  am  to  receive  two  thousand  louls  d'ors  oil 
my  return  to  Vienna.     Here  bhe  comes." 

"  I  am  ready,"  said  Margaret,  coming  in,  followed  by  her  maid   who 
held  her  mistress's  travelling-bag. 
\Count  rfchulenberg  darted  forward   to  offer  his  arm,  but  she  waved 
him  away. 

"  Follow  me,"  said  she,  passing  at  once  through  the  secret -Opening. 
Schulenberg  followed,  "  sighing  like  a  furnace,"  and  looking  daggers  at 
the  confidante,  who  in  her  turn  looked  sneeringly  at  him.  A  few  mo- 
ments after,  they  entered  the  carriage.  *rhe  windows  of  the  hotel  Ester- 
hnzy  were  as  brilliantly  illuminated  as  ever,  while  the  master  of  the  house 
slumbered  peacefully.  And  yet  a  shadow  had  fallen  upon  the  proud 
escutcheon  which  surmounted  the  silken  curtains  of  his  luxurious  bed. 
The  shadow  of  that  disgrace  with  which  his  outraged  wife  had  threaten- 
ed him  ! 


CHAPTER   LIX. 

JOSEPH  IN  FRANCE. 

A  LONG  train  of  travelling  carriages  was  about  to  cross  the  bridge 
which  spans  the  Rhine  at  Strasburg,  and  separates  Germany  from  France. 
It  was  the  suite  of  the  Count  of  Falkenstein  who  ■A'as  on  his  way  to  visit 
his  royal  sister. 

Thirty  persons,  exclusive  of  Count  Rosenberg  and  two  other  confiden- 
tial friends,  accompanied  the  Emperor.  Of  course  the  incognito- of  a 
Count  of  Falkenstein,  who  travelled  with  such  a  suite,  was  not  of  much 
value  to  him  j  so  that  he  had  endured  all  the  tedium  of  an  official  jour- 


MARIE  AKTOlWhTl'i:.  235 

ney.  This  was  all  very  proper  in  the  eyes  of  Maria  Theresa  who 
thougln  it  impossible  for  Jove  to  travel  without  his  thunder;  but  Jove 
himself,  as  everybody  knows,  was  much  addicted  to  incognitos,  and  so 
was  his  terrine  representative,  tiie  Emperor  of  Austria. 

The  imperial  cortege,  then,  was  just  about  to  pass  from  Germany  to 
France.  It  was  evening,  and  the  fiery  gold  of  the  setting  sun  was  mir- 
rored fn  the  waves  of  the  Rhino  which  with  gentle  murmur  were  toying 
with  the  greensward  that  sloped  gracefully  down  to  the  water's  edge.  The 
Emperor  gave  the  word  to  halt,  and  rising  from  his  seat,  looked  back 
upon  the  long  line  of  carriages  that  followed  in  his  wake. 

"  Rosenberg,"  said  he,  laying  his  hand  upon  the  Count's  shoulder, 
"tell  me  frankly,  how  do  you  enjay  this  way  of  travelling  ?" 

"  Ah,  sire,  1  have  been  thinking  all  day  of  the  delights  of  our  other 
journeys.  Do  you  remember  our  hunt  for  dinner  in  the  dirty  little 
hamlet,  and  the  nights  we  spent  on  horseback  in  Galicia  1  There  was 
no  monotony  in  travelling  then  !" 

"Thank  you,  thank  you,"  said  the  Emperor  with  a  bright  smile.  *'  I 
see  that  we  are  of  one  mind." 

He  motioned  to  the  occupants  of  the  carriage  immediately  behind 
him,  and  they  hastened  to  obey  the  signal. 

The  Emperor  after  thanking  them  for  the  manner  in  which  they  had 
acquitted  themselves  of  their  respective  duties,  proposes  a  change  in 
their  plans  of  travel. 

"  Then,"  replied  Herr  Von  Bourgeois,  with  a  sigh,  "  your  Majesty  has 
no  further  use  for  us,  and  we  return  to  Vienna." 

*'  Not  at  all,  not  at  all,"  said  the  Emperor,  who  had  heard  and  under- 
stood the  sigh  wafled  towards  Paris  and  its  thousand  attractions.  "  We 
will  only  part  company  that  we  may  travel  more  at  our  ease,  and  once 
in  Paris,  we  again  join  forces.  Be  so  good  as  to  make  yoilr  arrange- 
ments accordingly,  and  to  make  my  adieux  to  the  other  gentlemen  of 
our  suite." 

Not  long  after,  the  imperial  cortege  separated  into  three  columns, 
each  one  of  which  was  to  go  independent  of  the  other,  and  all  to  unite 
when  they  had  reached  Paris.  As  the  last  of  the  carriages  with  which 
he  had  parted,  disappeared  on  the  other  side  of  the  bridge,  the  Emperor 
drew  a  long  breath  and  looked  radiant  with  satisfliction. 

"  Let  us  wait,"  said  he,  "  until  the  dust  of  my  imperial  magnificence 
is  laid,  before  we  cross  the  bridge  to  seek  lodgings  for  the  night.  Mean- 
while, Rosenberg,  give  me  your  arm  aud  let  us  walk  along  the  banks  of 
the  Rhine." 

They  crossed  the  high-road  and  took  a  foot-path  that  led  to  the  banks 
of  the  river.  At  that  evening  hour  every  thing  was  peaceful  and  quiet. 
Now  and  then  a  peasant  came  slowly  following  his  hay-laden  wagon, 
and  occasionally  some  village-girl  caroled  a  love-lay,  or  softly  murmur- 
ed a  vesper  hymn. 

The  Emperor  who  had  been  walking  fast,  suddenly  stopped,  and  gazed 
with  rapture  upon  the  scene.  ,  ' 


*' See,  liosenberg,''  said  lie,  "see  how  beautiful  (Jermany  i^  today  ! 
As  beautil'ul  as  a  laughing  youth  upon  whose  brow  is  stamped  the  fu- 
ture hero  !" 

^' Your  Majesty  will  transform  the  boy  into  a  hero,"  said  liosenberg. 

The  Enaperor  frowned.  "  Let  us  forget  fur  a  moment  the  mummery 
of  royalty,"  said  he.  "You  know  moreover  that  royalty  has  brought 
jue  nothing,  but  misery.  Instead  of  reigning  over  otheis,  1  am  contin- 
ually passing  under  the  Caudine  forks  of  another's  despotic  will." 

'•  But.  the;  day  will  come  when  the  Emperor  shall  reign  alone,  and  then 
the  sun  of  greatness  will  rise  for  Germany." 

"  Heaven  grant  it !  I  have  the  will  to  make  of  Germany  one  power- 
ful empire.  Oh,  that  1  had  the  power,  too  !  My  friend,  we  are  alone, 
and  no  one  hears  except  God.  Here  on  the  confines  of  Germany  the 
poor  unhappy  Emperor  may  be  permitted  to  shed  a  tear  over  the  sev- 
ered garment  of  German  royalty  —  that  garment  >jvhich  has  been  rent  bv 
so  many  little  princes  !  Have  you  observed,  Rosenberg,  how  they  have 
soiled  its  majesty  '?  Have  you  noticed  the  pretensions  of  these  mani- 
Jkins  whose  domains  we  can  span  with  our  hands  ?  Is  it  not  pitiable 
that  each  one  in  his  principality  is  equal  in 'power  to  the  Emperor  of 
Austria !" 

"Yes,  indeed,"  said  Rosenberg  with  a  sigh,  "Germany  swarms  with 
little  princes !" 

"  Too  u)any  little  princes,"  echoed  Joseph,  "  and  therefore  their  lord 
and  emperor  is  curtailed  by  so  much  of  his  o>vn  lawful  rights,  and  Ger- 
many is  an  empty  name  among  nations!  If  the  Germans  were  capable 
of  an  enlightened  patriotism,  if  they  would  throw  away  their  Angloma- 
nia, Gallomania,  Prussomania,  and  Austromania,  they  would  be  some- 
thing more  than  the  feeble  echoes  of  intriguers  and  pedants.*  Each  one 
thrusts  his  own  little  province  forward,  while  all  forget  the  one  great 
fatherland !" 

"  But  the  Emperor  Joseph  will  be  lord  of  all  Germany,"  cried  Rosen- 
berg exultingly,  "and  he  will  remind  them  that  they  are  vassals  and  he 
is  their  Suzerain !" 

"They  must  have  a  bloody  lesson  to  remind  them  of  that,"  said  the 
Emperor,  moodily.  "  Look  behind  you,  Rosenberg,  on  the  other  side 
of  the  Rhine.  There  lies  a  kingdom  neither  larger  nor  more  populous 
than  Germany' — a  kingdom  which  rules  us  by  its  industry  and  its  ca- 
prices, and  is  great  by  reason  of  its  unity,  because  its  millions  of  men 
are  under  the  sway  of  one  monarch." 

"And  yet  it  was  once  with  France  as  it  is  today  with  Germany," 
said  Count  Rosenberg.  "There  were  Normandy,  Brittany,  Provence, 
Languedoe,  Bourgoyne  and  Franche-Comte,  all  petty  dukedoms  striv- 
ing against  their  allegiance  to  the  king.  Where  are  their  rulers  now  ? 
Buried  and  forgotten",  while  their  provinces  own  the  sway  of  the  one 
monarch  who  rules  all  France.  What  France  has  accomplished,  Ger- 
many, too,  can  compass." 

"The  Emppmr'a  own  word',     Bee  Joseph  II  rorrPBpf.nd«Hioe,  p.  1T6, 


MARIE  ANTOINETI'E.  'J37 

■  The  Emperor  placed  his  hand  affectionately  upon  Rosenberg's  shoul- 
der. "  You  have  read  my  heart,  friond,"  «Hid  hi"  smiling.  "  Do  vou 
know  what  wild  wishes  are  purging  within  me  now?  VVishes  which 
Fredericlv  of  Prussia  would  condemn  as  uiihiwfiil,  although  it  was  quite 
righteous  for  him  to  roh  Austria  ol' Silesia.  I  too  have  my  Silesia,  and 
by  the  Lord  above  me!  my  title-deeds  are  not  as  mouldy  as  his  !" 

"  Only  that  your  Silesia  is  called  Bavaria,"  said  Rosenberg  with  a 
significant  pmile. 

"For  God's  sake,"  cried  Joseph,  "do  not  let  the  rushes  hoar  yon, 
lost  they  betray  ino  to  the  babbling  wind,  and  the  wind  t)L-Hr  it  "to  the 
i\ing  ot  Prussia.  Rut  you  have  guessed.  I'avaria  is  a  portion  of  my 
Silesia,  but  only  a  portion.  Bavaria  is  mine  by  right  i>t'  inheritance, 
and  I  shall  take  it  when  the  time  comes.  It  will  be  a  con-vely  patch  to 
stftp  some  of  the' rents  in  my  imperial  mantle,  P>ut  my  Silesia  lies  af; 
every  point  of  the  compass.  To  the  east  lie  Bosnia  and  Servia — to  the 
south  see  superannuated  Venice.  The  lion  of  St.  Marks  Isold  and  blind 
and  will  fall  an  easy  prey  to  the  eagle  of  Hapsburg,  This  will  extend 
dur  dominions  to  the  Adriatic  sea.  When  the  Duke  of  Modena  is  ga- 
thered to  his  fathers,  my  brother,  in  right  of  his  wife,  succeeds  to  the 
title,  and  as  Ferrara  once  belonged  to  the  House  of  Modena,  he  and  I 
together,  can  easily  wrest  it  from  the  Pope.  Close  by  are  the  Torton- 
ese  and  Alessandria,  two  fair  provinces  which  the  King  of  Sardinia  sup- 
poses to  be  his.  The^  once  formed  a  portion  of  the  Duchy  of  Milan, 
and  Milan  is  ours,  with  every  acre  of  land  that  ever  belonged  to  it.  By 
heaven,  I  will  have  all  that  is  mine,  if  it  cost  me  a  seven  year's  war  to 
win  it  back  !  This  is  not  all.  Look  towards  the  vvest,  beyond  the  spires 
of  Strasburg,  where  the  green  and  fertile  plains  of  Alsatia  woo  our  com- 
ing. They  now  belong  to  France,  but  they  shall  be  the  property  (.f 
Austria.  Farther  on  lies  Lorraine.  That  too  is  mine,  for  my  faihor's 
title  was  'Duke  of  Lorraine.'  What  is  ft  to  me  that  Francis  the  First 
sold  his  birthright  to  France!  AH  that  I  covet  I  shall  annex  to  Austria, 
as  surely  as  Frederic  wrested  Siiesiafrom  me.  ' 

"And  do  you  intend  to  let  him  keep  possession  of  Silesia  1"  asked 
Rosenberg. 

"  Not  if  T  can  prevent  it,  but  that  may  not  be  optional  with  me.  I 
will — but  hush  !  Let  us  speak  no  more  of  tho  future,  my  soul  faints 
with  thirst  when  I  think  of  it.  Sometimes  I  think  I  see  Germany  point- 
ing to  her  many  wounds,  and  calling  me  to  come  and  heal  her  lacerated 
body.  And  yet  I  can  dq  nothing  !  I  must  stand  with  folded  arms,  nor 
•wish  that  I  were  lord  of  Austria,  foi»  God  knows  that  Ido  not  long  for 
Maria  Theresa's  death.  May  she  reign  for  many  years,  but  oh  !  may  I 
live,  to  see  the  day  wherein  I  shall  be  sole  monarch  not  only  of  Austria, 
but  of  all  Germany.  If  it  ever  dawns  for  me,  the  provinces  shall  no 
longer  speak  each  <.>ne  its  own  lanounge.  Italians,  Hungarians  and  A us- 
trians,  all  shall  be  German,  and  we  shall-  have  one  people  and  one 
tongue.  To  ensure  the  prosperity  of  my  empire,  I  will  strengthen  my 
pllianoft  with  Franc-e.     I  dislike  the  t  rc-nch,  but  I  mUet  secure  thciv  nen- 


238  JOSEPH  THE  SECOND. 

trality  before  I  step  into  possession  of  Bavaria,  and  assert  my  claims  to 
my  many-sided  Silesia.  Well — these  are  dreams  ;  day  has  not  yet 
dawned  for  me  !  The  future  Emperor  of  Germany  is  yet  a  vassal,  and 
he  who  goes  to  France  to  day  is  nothing  but  a  Count  of  Falkenstein. — 
Come  let  us  cro.ss  the  bridge  that  at  once  unites  France  with  Germany, 
and  divides  them  one  from  another.'"'' 


CHAPTER  LX, 

THE    GODFATHER. 

There  was  great  commotion  at  the  post-hou.se  of  the  little  town  of 
Vitry.  Two  maids  in  their  Sunday  best  were  transforming  the  public 
parlor  of  the  inn  into  a  festive  dining-room,  wreathing  the  walls  with 
garlands,  decking  the  long  dining-table  with  flowers,  and  converting  the 
huge  dresser  into  a  buffet  whereon  they  deposited  the  pretty  gilt  china, 
the  large  cakes,  the  pastries,  jelJies,  and  confections  that  were  destined 
for  the  entertainment  of  thirty  invited  guests.  The  landlord  and  post- 
master, a  slender  little  man  with  an  excellent,  good-humored  face,  was 
hurrying  from  buffet  to  table,  from  table  to  kitchen,  superintending  the 
servants.  The  cook  was  deep  in  the  preparation  of  her  roasts  and  warm 
dishes,  and  at  the  kitchen  door  sat  a  little  maiden,  who  with  important 
mien,  was  selecting  the  whitest  and  crispest  leaves  from  a  mountain  of 
lettuce  which  she  laid  into  a  large  gilt  salad-bowl  beside  her,  throwing 
the  others  to  a  delighted  pig,  who,  like  Lazarus,  stood  by  to  pick  up  the 
leavings  of  his  betters.  In  the  yard,  at  the  fountain,  stood  the  man-of- 
all-work,  who,  as  butler  ^jro  tem.^  was  washing  plates  and  glasses,  while 
closely  on  the  flags,  sat  the  clerk  of  the  post-office  polishing  and  uncork-, 
ing  the  bottles  which  the  host  had  just  brought  from  the  cellar  in  honor 
of  his  friends. 

Monsieur  Etienne  surveyed  his  notes  of  preparation  and  gave  an  ap- 
proving nod.  His  face  was  radiant  as  he  returned  to  the  house,  gave 
another  glance  of  satisfaction  around  the  dining-room,  and  passed  into 
an  adjoining  apartment.  This  was  Uie  best  furnished  room-in  the  post- 
house;  and  on  a  soft  lounge,  near  the  window,  reclined  a  pale  young 
woman,  beautifully  dressed,  whose  vicinity  to  a  cradle,  where  lay  a  very 
young  infant,  betokened  her  recent  recovery  from  confinement. 

"  Athanasia,  my  goddess,"  said  Monsieur  Etienne^  coming  in  on  tip- 
toe, "  how  do  you  feel  to-day  1" 

She  reached  out  her  pale  hand  and  answered  in  a  languid  voice  :  *'  The 
♦  Those  ar»  Joteph'i  own  words,   6ee  Lctt«re  of  Joeeph  H,    Pog»  175. 


MAlllE  ANTOINETI'K  ►.  239 

doctor  says  that,  so  far,  I  am  doing  pretty  well,   and  by  great  precau- 
tions, I  may  be  able,  in  a  few  wevks,  Lo  resume  my  household  diilifs*." 

Monsieur  Etienne  raised  his  eyebrows,  and  looked  thoughtful.  'The 
doctor  is  over-anxious  my  dear,"  said  he,  "  he  exaggerates  your  weak- 
ness. Our  little  angel  there,  fs  already  three  weeks  old,  and  will  be 
standing  on  his  legs  before  long." 

"  The  doctor  is  more  sympathising  than  you,  Monsieur  Etienne,"  be- 
gan the  wife. 

"  My  treasure,"  interrupted  her  husband,  "  no  one  can  wish  to  spare 
you  premature  exertion  more  than  I.  But  I  do  entreat  of  you,  my  an- 
gel, to  do  your  best  to  remain  with  the  company  to-day  as  lung  as  you 
can." 

"I  will  do  all  in  ray  power  to  oblige  you,"  said  Madame  Etienne, 
condescendingly,  "and  if  you  require  it,  I  will  set  up  from  first  to  last." 

"It  will  be  a  great  festival  for  us,  provided  no  passengers  arrive  to- 
day. Good  heavens  !  if  they  should  come,  what  could  I  do  with  them  1 
Even  the  best  of  those  we  receive  here  are  scarcely  fit  to  introduce 
among  our  respectable  guests  ;  and  then  as  for  post-horses,  I  want  every 
one  of  them  for  the  company.  -  Heaven  defend  us  then  from  passengers, 
for — oh!  oh!  is  it  possible  !  Can  it  be!" — said  Etienue,  interrupting 
himself.     "  Yes,  it  is  the  sound  of  a  post-horn  " 

"  Perhaps  it  is  some  of  our  guests,"  suggested  Madame  Etienne. 

"  No,  no,  for  our  postillions  to-day  play  but  one  air,  '  Je  siiis  pere,  tin 
pcrc  heureux,''  "  said  Monsieur  Etienne,  listening  with  all  his  might  to 
the  approaching  horn. 

"Jt  is  a  passenger,"  said  he,  despondingly.  "  Athanasia,  my  angel, 
we  are  lost !" 

So  saying,  Monsieur  Etienne  darted  out  of  the  room,  as  if  he  were 
rushing  off  to  lose  himself  without  delay  ;  but  he  stopped  as  soon  as  ' 
he  had  reached  his  frontdoor,  for  there  was  no  necessity  to  go  further. 
A  dark  caleche,  with  three  horses,  dashed  up  to  the  door,  while  not  far 
behind,  came  another  chaise,  whose  post-horn  was  sounding  "  Je  suis  un 
jpere^  un  pere  kevrcux.'''' 

"  Is  it  possible?"  thought  the  discomfitted  post-master.  "  Yes, — here 
they  come  at  the  very  moment  when  the  guests  are  arriving." 

Just  then  another  horn  was  heard,  and  "  Je  suis  un  pere^  tin  pere 
AcMrcMA',"  made  the  welkin  ring. 

On  every  side  they  came,  but  the  unlucky  passenger  ca\cche  blocked 
up  the  passage.  Monsieur  Etienne,  following  the  impulses  of  his  heart, 
rushed  past  the  strangers,  and  ran  to  greet  the  most  important  of  his 
guests,  the  village-curate  and  the  pastor  of  the  next  market-place.  But 
just  then,  the  bewildered  little  man  remembered  his  duty,  and  darted 
back  to  the  passengers. 

There  were  two  gentleinen  in  the  carriage,  and  on  the  box,  near  the 
postillion,  a  third,  who  had  the  air  of  a  valet. 

"  The  gentlemen  wish  to  go  on  to  the  next  Stage  ?"  said  Etienne, 
without  opening  the  door. 


240  JOSEPU  THE  SECOND. 

*'  No,  sir,"  said  one  of  the  passengers,  raising  his  dark  blue  eyes  to 
the  post  house.  ''Your  house  looks  inviting,  and  we  would  like  a  room 
and  a  cosy  dinner/' 

Monsieur  Etienne  scarcely  knew  what  reply  to  make  to  this  untimely- 
request.     '•  You  wish  to  dine  here — here — you  would " 

jJown  came  another  post  chaise,  thundering  on  the  stones,  and  louder 
than  ever  was  the  sound  of  "  Je  suis  un  pere,  un  pere  heurettx.^^ 

Certainly  at  that  moment  the  song  was  a  mockery,  for  Monsieur 
Etienne  was  a  moat  unhappy  and  distracted  father. 

'  Gentlemen,"  said  he,  pathetically,  "  oblige  me  by  going  on  to  the 
next  town.     Indeed  I " 

'•  Why,  will  you  not  give  ns  dinner  ?"  asked  the  gentleman  who  had 
spoken  before.  "  I  see  a  number  of  people  passing  us  and  entering  the 
house.     How  is  that?" 

"  Sir,  they  are — that  is — I  am," — stammered  the  landlord  ;  then  sud- 
denly  plunging  into  a  desperate  resolve,  he  said  :  "  Are  you  a  father  '^" 

A  shade  passed  over  the  stranger's  face  as  he  replied,  "  I  have  been  a 
father.     But  why  such  a  question  ?" 

"  Oh,  if  you  have  been  a  father,"  answered  Etienne,  "you  will  sym- 
pathise with  me  when  f  tell  you  that  to-day  we  christen  our  first-born 
child." 

"  Ah,  indeed  !"  exclaimed  the  passenger,  with  a  kind  smile.  "  Then 
these  persons  are " 

"  My  guests,"  interrupted  the  landlord  and  post-master,  "  and  you 
will  know  how  to  excuse  me  if— — " 

"  If  you  wish  us  to  the  devil,"  returned  the  blue-eyed  stranger,  laugh- 
in;'  merrily,  '■  But"  indeed,  1  cannot  oblige  you,  my  excellent  friend, 
for  I  don't  know  where  his  Infernal  Majesty  is  to  be  fot:^d,  and  if  I 
may  be  allowed  a  preference,  I  would  rather  remain  in  the  society  of 
the  two  priests  whom  I  see  going  into  your  house." 

"  You  will  not  go  further  then " 

"Oh,  no,  we  ask  to  be  allowed  to  join  your  guests  and  attend  the 
christening.  The  baptism  of  a  first-born  child  is  a  ceremony  which 
touches  my  heart.  And  yours,  also,  does  it  not  1"  said  the  stranger  to 
his  oompaniou. 

"  Certainly,"  replied  the  other,  laughing,  "  above  all,  when  it  is  joined 
to  another  interesting  ceremony — that  of  a  good  dinner." 

"  Oh,  you  shall  have  a  good  dinner  !"  cried  Etienne,  won  over  by  the 
sympathy  of  the  first  speaker.  "  Come  in,  gentlemen,  come  in.  As 
the  guests  of  our  little  son,  you  are  welcome." 


END  OF  VOL.  II. 


r 


r— * 


r 


fL 


1  ■ 


:.:A 


a 
r 


'if'- 


'15^ 


n 


I  • 


J^s 


.:■:.:,   SP 


L 


r 


^ 


.•.4 


.  V   » 

',0' 


:f.- 


GOETZEL'S  LIST 

MEW  PIBLIC&TIOI 


G35 


HARDEE'S  INFANTRY  TACTICS.     9th  Edition. 

WHEELER'S  CAVALRY  TACTICS. 

LADY  AUDLEY S  SECRET. 

SILAS   MARNER. 

RAIDS  AND  ROMANCES  OF  MORGAN  AND  HIS 
^  MEN.     2nd  Edition. 

TANNHAUSER.  .♦ 

THE  CONFEDERATE 
CHAUDRON'S  SPErJJNG  BOOK. 


do. 


do 


FIRST  READER. 


SECOND  READER. 


^^^^y'^^^'cop^rishi    secured.  ^>%f*#,^ 


J6V 


JOSEPH  II. 


w 


AMD  HIS  COURT. 


,/] 


BY  L.  MUllLBACll. 

IFrom  t|)c  ©crman, 
BY  ADELAIDE  DeV.  CMAUDKON. 


;<t^ 


:'!     fe 


VOLUME  in. 


:?iv 


]M  0  B I  r.  E  : 

s.  II.  GO ETZ K L.  r u u  1 . 1  s  1 1 1-: i; . 


1  RG4 


^  "'*'»'     "W^i^^      Fnrrow  &  Dennett,  Printers,  > 


^^^i^^!:-c3MSmi 


« 


.■^. 


«_!c 


c 


.^  /    c'c  ^\ 


..•• 


% 


0     ^ 


V 


JOSEPH  II. 


AND  HIS  COURT. 


%n  lltstorkal  llobcl 


BY  L.  MUHLBACII. 

Jfvom  tfjc  CKcrmnju, 
BY  ADELAIDE  Dc  V.  CHAUDKOiN. 


VOLUME  III. 


MOBILE: 

S.  H.  GOETZEL,  PUBLISHEIi. 

18G4 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1864,  by 

S.  H.  GOETZEL, 

la  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  Alabama, 

for  the  Confederate  States  of  America. 


Farrow  &  Dennett,  printers. 


JOSEPH  11.  AND  HIS  COURT. 


CHAPTER  r. 

THE   GODFATHER. 

"  We  accept  with  pleasure,"  said  the  strangers,  and  they  followed  the 
host  into,  the  house.  Tha  door  of  the  room  where  the  guests  were  as- 
sembled was  open,  and  the  strangers,  with  a  selfpossession,  which 
proved  them  to  be  of  the  aristocracy,  walked  in  and  mingled  at  once  in 
the  conversation. 

"  Allow  me,  gentlemen,"  said  the  host,  when  he  had  greeted  the  re- 
mainder of  his  guests,  "  allow  me  to  present  you  to  Mac^ame  Etienne. 
She  will  be  proud  to  receive  two  such  distinguished  strangers  in  her 
house  to-day." 

Madame  Etienne,  with  a  woman's  practiced  eye,  saw  at  once  that  these 
strange  guests,  who  were  so  perfectly  unembarrassed  and  yet  so  cour- 
teous, must  belong  to  the  very  fi,-st  ranks  of  society ;  and  she  was  hap- 
py to  be  able  to  show  off  her  savoir  vivre  before  the  rest  of  the  company  .- 

She  received  the  two  strangers  with  much  grace  and  affability,  and 
whereas  the  two  curates  were  to  have  "been  placed  beside  her  at  table, 
she  assigned  then^  to  her  husband,  and  invited  the  strangers  to  the  seats 
instead.  She  informed  them  of  the  names  and  station  of  every  person 
present,  and  then  related  to  them  how  the  winter  previous  at  the  ball  of 
the  sous-pr.efect,  she  had  danced  the  whole  evening,  while  some  of  the 
prettiest  girls  in  the  room,  had  wanted  partners. 

The  strangers  listened  with  oblij:;ing  courtesy  and  appcarcd*deepiy  in- 
terested. The  blue-eyed  stranger;  however,  mingled  somewhat  in  the  gen- 
eral conversation.  He  spoke  with  the  Burgomaster  from  Solanges  of 
the  condition  of  his  town,  with  the  curates  of  their  congregations,  and 
seemed  much  interested  in  the  prosperity  of  French  manufactures,  about 
which  much  was  said  at  table. 

All  were  enchanted  with  the  tact  and  affability  of  the  strangers.  Mon- 
sieur Etienne  was  highly  elated,  and  as  for  Madame,  her  paleness  had 
been  superseded  by  a  becoming  flush,  alid  she  never  onco  complained  of 
•>ver  exertion. 


4  .lOSErn  tiif>  second. 

The  brcakfost  over,  the  company  assembled  for  the  baptism.  It  was 
to  take  place  in  the  parlor,  where  a  table  covered  ■^iih  a  fine  white  cloth, 
a  wax  candle,  some  flowers,  a  crucifix^  and  an  improvised  font,  had  been 
arranged  for  the  occasion. 

The  noble  stranger  gave  his  arm  to  Madame  Etienne.  "Madame," 
said  he,  "  may  I  ask  of  you  the  favor  of  standing  godfather  to  your  son?" 

Madame  Etienne  blushed  with  pWasiwe,  and  replied  that  she  would 
be  most  grateful  for  the  honor. 

"  In  this  way,"  thought  she,  "  we  shall  find  out  his  name  and  rank." 

The  ceremony  began.  Tlie  curate  spoke  a  few  impressive  words  as 
to  the  nature  of  the  sacrament,  and  then  proceeded  to  baptise  the  infant. 
The  water  was  poured  over  its  head,  and  at  lash  came  the  significanu 
question.  "  What  is  the  name  of  the  godfather  ?"  All  eyes  were  turn- 
ed upon  him,  and  Madame  Etienne's  heart  beat  hard,  for  she  expected  to 
hear  the  word  "  Count"  at  the  very  least. 

"  My  name  V  said  he.     "  Joseph."  •     , 

"  Joseph,"  repeated  the  priest.     "Joseph — and  the   surname?" 

"  I  thought  Joseph  would  be  enough,"  said  the  stranger,  with  some 
impatience. 

"  No,  sir,"  replied  the  priest.  "  The  surname,  too,  must  be  register- 
ed in  the  baptismal  records." 

"  Very  well,  then,  Joseph  the  Second." 

".The  Second  ?"  echoed  the  curate  with  a  look  of  mistrust. 

"  The  Second!     Is  that  your  surname  ?" 

"  Yes,  ray  name  is  '  The  Second.'  " 

I  Well,  be  it  so,"  returned  the  cui-ate  with  a  shrug.  "  Joscph-The- 
SeCond.  Now  what  is  your  profession— ^excuse  me,  sir,  but  1  ask  the' 
customary  questions." 

The  stranger  looked  down  and  seemed  almost  c6nfused. 

The  curate  i?iildly  repeated  his  question.  "  What  is  your  profession 
or  your  station,  sir?" 

"Emperor  of  Austria,"  replied  Joseph  smiling. 

A  cry  of  astonishment  followed  this  announcement.  The  pencil  with 
which  the  priest  was  about  to  record  the  "  profession  "  ot  the  godfather, 
fell  from  his  hands.  Madame  Etienne  in  her  eustacy  fell  almost  faint- 
ing into  an  arm-chair,  and  Monsieur  Etienne,  taking  the  child  from  the, 
arms  of  the  nurse,  cameand  knelt  with  it  at  the  Emperor's  feet. 

This  was  the  signal  for  a  renewal  of  lite  and  movement  iuthe  room. 
All  followed  the  example  of  the  host,  and  in  one  moment,  old  ifnd  young, 
men  and  women,  were  on  their  knees. 

"  Your  Majesty,"  said  Etienne  in  a  voice  choked  with  tears,  "  you 
have  made  my  child  famous.  For  a  hundred  years,  the  honor  you  have 
conferred  upon  him  will  be  the  wonder  of  our  neighborhood,  and  never 
will  the  people  of  Vi try  forget  the  condescension  of  your  Majesty,  in 
sitting  among  us  as  an  equal  and  a  guest.  My  sou  is  a  Frenchman,  but 
at  heart  he  shall  also  be  a  German,  like  our  own  beautiful  Queen,  who 
ib  both  Austrian  and  Frejich.     God  bless  and  preserve  you  both  !    Long 


MAJilh    AiNTOJNE'lTK. 


live  onr  Qiicon,  Mnrie  Autoinettc,  and  long  live  her  noble  brother,  llic 
Emperor  of  Anslri^, !" 

The  company  echoed  the  cry,  and  their  shouts  aroused  Madame 
Ktienne,  who  rose  and  advanced  towards  her  imperial  visitirr.  He  has- 
tened tu  replace  her  gently  in  her  arm-chair.  ! 

"  Where  people  are  buund  together  by  the  ties  of  parent  and  godfa- 
ther," said. he,  "  there  must  be  no  unnecessary  ceremony.  Will  you  do 
me  ono  favor,  Madame?" 

"Sire,  my  life  is  at  your  Majesty's  disposal." 

"  Preserve  and  treasure  it,  then,  lor  the  sake  of  my  god-son.  And 
since  you  arc  willing  to  do  me  the  favor,"  continued  .he,  drawing  from 
\\\h  bosom  a  snulF-box  richly  set  with  diamonds,  "accept  ihis  as  a  re- 
membrance of  my  pleasant  visit  to  you  to-day.  My  portrait  is  upon 
ihe  lid,  and  as  I  am  told  that  all  the  lovely  won)en  in  France  take  snulf, 
perhaps  you  will  take  your  snuff  from  a  box  which!  hope  will  remind 
you  of  the  giver." 

"  And  now,"  continued  the  Emperor  to  the  happy  Monsieur  Etienne, 
"as  1  have  been  admitted  to  the  christening,  pBrhaps  you  will  accom- 
uodalc  me  wilh  a  pair  of  horses  with  which  1  may  proceed  to  the  next 

,4  ', 5  7 


1 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE    ARRIVAL    AT    VERSAILLES. 

The  French  Court  was  at  Versailles;  it  having  been  decided  by  the 
King  and  Queen  that  there  they  would  receive  the  Emperor's  visit.  A 
magnificent  suite  of  apartments  had  been  fitted  up  for  his  occupation, 
and  distinguished  courtiers  appointed  as  his  attendants.  He  was  anx- 
iously expected  ;  for  already,  inany  an  anecdote  of  his  affability  and 
generosity  had  reached  Paris. 

A  courier  had  arrived  to  sa}'  that  the  Emperor  had  reached  the  last 
station,  and  would  shortly  be  in  Versailles.  The  Queen  received  this 
intelligence  with  tears  of  joy,  and  gathered  all  her  ladies  around  her  in 
the  room  where  she  expected  to  meet  her  biother.  The  King  merely 
nudded,  and  a  shade  of  dissatisfaction  passed  over  his  face.  He  turned 
to  his  conhdeutial  adviser,  Count  Maurepas,  who  was  alone  with  him  in 
his  Cabinet. 

"  Tell  me  frankly,  what  do  you  think  of  this  visit  1" 

The  old  Count  raised  his  shoulders  a  hi  Francaisc,  "Sire,  the  Queen 
has  so  often  invited  the  Emperor,  that  I  presume  he  has  coiuc  to  grali/y 
her  lonj'inrs." 


0  JOSEPH    THL  6t;UUxNl>. 

•  "Ah,  bah!''  said  Louis,  impationtly.  "lie  is  iiMt,  so  soft-hearted  as 
to  shape  his  actions  to  suit  the  longings  of  his  lauiily.  Speak  more 
candidly." 

"Your  Majesty  commands  mfe  to  be  perfectly  sincere]"  « 

\'I  entreat  you,  be  truthful,  and  tell  me  what  you  think." 

''Then  1  confess  that  the  Emperor's  visit  has  been  a  subject  of  rhuch 
mystery  to  your  Majesty's  ministers.  You  are  right  in  saying  that  he 
is  not  the  man  to  trouble  himself  about  the  state  of  his  relatives'  affec- 
tions, lie  comes  to  Paris  for  something  nearer  to  his  heart  th^n  any 
royal  sistei'.  Perhaps  his  hope  is  that  he  may  succeed  in  removing  me, 
and  procuring  the  appointment  of  de  Choiseul  in  my  stead." 

"Never! — Austria  cannot  indulge  such  vain  hopes,  lor  her  watchful 
spies  must  ere  this  have  convinced  the  Hapsburgs  that  my  dislike  to- 
wards this  Duke,  so  precious  in  the  eyes  of  Maria  Theresa,  is  uncon- 
querable. My  father's  shade  banished  him  to  Chanteloup,  and  I  will 
follow  this  shade  whithersoever  it  leads.  If  my  father  had  lived  (and 
perchance  Choiseul  had  a  hand  in  his  death)  there  would  have  been  no  al- 
liance of  France  with  Austria.  I  am  forced  to  maintain  it,  since  my 
wife  is  the  daughter  of  Maria  Theresa,  so  that  neither  the  Austrian,  nor 
the  anti-Austrian  party  in  France,  can  ever  hope  to  rule  in  France.  Ma- 
rie Antoinette  is  the  wife  of  ray  heart,, and  no  human  being  shall  ever 
dislodge  her  from  thence.  Bwt  my  love  for  her  can  never  influence  my 
policy,  which  is  steadfast  to  the  principles,  of  my  father.  If  Joseph  has 
come  hither  for  political  purposes,  he  might  have  spared  his  pains. 

"He  may  have  other  views  besides  those  we  have  alluded  to.  He 
may  come  to  gain  your  Majesty's  sanction  to  his  ambitious  plans  of  ter- 
ritorial aggrandizement.  The  Emperor  is  inordinately  ambitious,  and 
is  true  to  the  policy  of  his  house." 

"  Which  nevertheless  was  obliged  to  yield  Silesia,"  said  Louis  de- 
risively. 

"That  is  the  open  wound  for  which  Austria  seeks  balsarft  from  Tur- 
key. If  your  Majesty  does  not  stop  him,  the  Emperor  will  light  the 
torch  of  war  and  kindle  a  conilagration  that  may  embrace  all  Europe." 

"  If  I  can  prevent  war,  it  is  my  duty  to  do  so;  for  peace  is  the  sacred 
right  of  my  people,  and  nothing  but  imperative  necessity  would  drive 
me  to  invade  that  right." 

"  But  the  Emperor  is  not  of  your  Majesty's  mind.  He  hopes  for  war, 
in  expectation  of  winning  glory." 

"  And  I  for  peace,  with  the  same  expectation.     I,  too,  would  win  glo- 
ry — the  glory  of  reigning  over  a  happy  and  prosperous  people.     The? 
fame  of  the  conqueror  i^  the  scourge  of  mankind ;  that  of  the  legislator, 
its  blessing.     The  last  shall  be  my  porti'bn — I  have  no  object  in  view 
but  the  welfare  of  the  French  nation." 

"  The  Emperor  may  endeavor  to  cajole  your  Majesty  through  your  very 
love  for  France.  He  may  propose  to  you  an  extension  of  French  terri- 
tory to  reconcile  you  to  his  acquisitions  in  Turkey.  He  may  suggest 
the  Netherlands  as  an  equivalent  for  Bosnia  and  Servia." 


MA  mi':  ANTOINETTE.  *  7 

"I  will  not  accept  the  bribe,"^cri^d  Louis  hastily.  "  Fraoce  needs  no 
aggrandizement.-  If  her  boundaries  were  extended,  she  would  lose  in 
strength  what  she  gained  in  size ;  so  that  Joseph  will  waste  his  time  if 
he  seeks  to  awaken  in  me  a  lust  of  dominion.  I  thirst  for  conquest,  it 
is  true — the  conquest  of  my  people's  hearts.  May  my  father's  blessing 
and  my  own  sincere  efforts  enable  me  to  accomplish  the  one  purpose  of 
my  life !" 

"You  have  accomplished  it,  sire,^' replied  do  Maurepas  with  enthu- 
siasm. "  You  are  the  absolute  master  of  your  subjects'  hearts  and  af- 
fections." 

"If  so,  I  desire  to  divide  my  domains  with  the  Queen,"  said  Louis 
with  a  searching  look  at  de  Maurepas.  The  Minister  cast  down  his 
eyes.  The  King  went  on  :  "  You  have  something  against  her  Majesty, 
what  is  it  1" 

"  The  Queen  has  something  against  me,  sire.  I  am  an  eye-sore  to  her 
Majesty.  She  thinks  1  am  in  the  way  of  de  Choiseul,  and  will  try  eve- 
ry means  to  have  me  removed." 

"You  know  that  she  would  try  in  vain.  I  have  already  told  you  so. 
As  a  husband,  1  forget  that  Marie  Antoinette  is  an  Archduchess  of  Aus- 
tria, but  as  my  father's  son — never  !  It  is  the  same  with  her  brother. 
I  may  find  himi  agreeable  as  a  relative,  but  as  Emperor  of  Austria,  he 
will  know  me  as  King  of  France  alone.  Be  his  virtues  what  they  ftiay, 
he  never  can  wiring  the  smallest  concession  from  me.  But  hark ! — 1 
hear  the  sound  of  wheels.  You  know  my  sentiments — communicate 
them  to  the  other  Ministers.     1  go  to  welcome  my  kinsman." 

When  the  King  entered  the  Queen's  reception  room,  she  was  stand- 
ing in  the  midst  of  her  ladies.  Her  cheeks  were  pale,  but  her  large,  ex- 
pressive eyes  were  fixed  with  a  loving  gaze  upon  the  door  through  whicli 
her  brother  was  to  enter.  When  she  saw  the  King,  she  started  forward 
and  laying  both  her  hands  in  his,  smiled  affectionately. 

",  Oh,  sire,"  said  she,  "  the  Emperor  has  arrived,  and  my  heart  flutters^ 
so,  that  1  can  scarcely  wait  for  him  here.  It  seems  to  me  so  cold  that 
we  do  not  go  to  meet  him.  Oh,  come,  dear  husband,  let  us  hasten  to 
embrace  our  brother.  Good  heavens!  It  is  not  forbidden  a  Queen  to 
have  a  heart,  is  it?" 

"  On  the  contrary,  it  is  a  grace  that  well  becomes  her  royalty,"  said 
Louis  with  a  smile.  "  But  your  brother  does  not  wish  us  to  go  forward 
to  meet  him.  That  would  be  an  acknowledgment  of  his  imperial  sta- 
tion, and  you  know  that  he  visits  us  as  Count  of  Falkenstein." 

"  Oh  etiquette,  forever  etiquette !"  whispered  the  Qi^en,  while  she 
opened  her  huge  fan  and  began  to  fan  herself.  "  There  is  no  escape  from 
its  fangs.  We  are  rid  of  Madame  de  Noailles,  but  Madame  Etiquette 
has  staid  behind  to  watch  our  every  look,  to  forbid  us  every  joy " 

Just  then  the  door  opened  and  a  tall,  manly  form  was  seen  upon  the 
threshold.  His  large  blue  eyes  sought  the  Queen,  and  recognising  her, 
his  face  brightened  with  a  bewitching  smile.  Marie  Antoinette  heedless 
of  etiquette,  uttered  a  cry  of  joy  and  flew  into  his  arms.     "  Brother , 


bfelovod  brother!"  murmured  she,  in  accents  of  hcartf(,'U  tenderness. 

"  My  sister,  my  own  dear  Antoinette,"  was  the  loving  reply,  and  Jo- 
seph drew  her  head  upon  his  breast  and  kissed  her  again   and  again. 
^  The  Queen,  overcome  by  joy,  burst  into  tears,  and  in  broken  accents 
welcomed  the  Emperor  to  France. 

The  bystanders  were  deeply  alFected,  all  except  the  King — he  alone 
was  unmoved  by  the  touching  scene.  He  alone  had  remarked  with  dis- 
pleasure that  Marie  Antoinette  had  greeted  her  brother  in  their  native 
Longue,  and  that  Joseph  had  responded.  It  was  a  German  Emperor  and 
a  German  Archduchess  who  were  locked  in  each  other's  arms — and  i\ear 
them  stood  the  King  of  France,  for  the  moment,  forgotten.  The  posi- 
tion was  embarrassing,  and  Louis  had  not  tact  enoijgh  to  extricate  him- 
self gracefully.  With  ruffled  brow  and  downcast  eyes  he  stood,  until 
no  longer  able  to  restrain  his  chagrin,  he  turned  on  his  heel  to  leave  the 
jooni. 

At  this  moment  a  light  hand  was  laid  upon  his  arm,  and  the  clear,  so- 
norous voice  of  the  Queen  was  heard. 

"  My  dear  husband,  where  are  you  going?" 

"I  am  here  too  soon,"  replied  he  sharply,  "  I  had  been  told  that  the 
Count  of  Faikenstein  had  arrived,  and  I  came  to  greet  him.  It  appears 
that  it  was  a  mistake,  and  I  retire  until  he  presents  himself." 

"  The  Count  of  Faikenstein  is'hei'e,  sire,  and  asks  a  thousand  pardons 
for  having  allowed  his  foolish  heart  to  get  the  better  of,  his  courtesy," 
said  Joseph  with  the  superiority  of  better  breeding.  "  Forgive  me  for 
taking  such  selfish  possession  of  my  sister's  heart.  It  was  a  momenta- 
ry concession  from  the  Queen  of  France  to  the  memories  of  her  child- 
hood ;  but  I  lay  it  at  your  Majesty's  feet,  and  entreat  you  to  accept  it 
as  your  well-won  trophy."  . 

lie  looked  at  the  King  with  such  nn  expression  of  cordiality,  that 
Louis  could  not  withstand  hini.  A  smile  which  he  could  not  control, 
rippled  the  gloomy  surface  of  the  King's  face,  and  he  came  forward,  of- 
fering both  hands. 

"  i  welcome  you  with  my  whole  heart,  my  brother,"  said  he  in  reply. 
*'  Your  presence  in  Versailles  is  a  source  of  happiness  both  to  the  Queen 
and  to  myself.  Let  me  accompany  you  to  your  apartments  that  you 
may  take  possession  at  once,  and  refresh  yourself  from  the  fatigues  of 
traveling." 

^  ■'  Sire,"  replied  Joseph,  "  I  will  follow  your  Majesty  wherever  you 
please ;  but  1  cannot  aifovv  vou  to  be  inconvenienced  by  my  visit.  I 
am  a  soldier,  unaccustomed  to  magnificence,  and  not  worthy  of  such 
royal  accommodation  as  you  offer." 

"  How  !"  cried  the  Queen.     "  You  will  not  be  our  guest  1" 

"  I  will  gladly  be  your  guest  at  table  if  you  allow  it,"  replie(3  the 
Emperor,  "  but  I  can  dine  with  you  without  lodging  at  Versailles. 
When  I  travel,  I  do  not  gio  to  castles  but  to  inns." 

The  King  looked  astounded.     "To  inns'?"  repeated  he  v/tth  emphasis. 

"  Count  Faikenstein  means  hotels,  your  Mnjesty,"  cried  the  Queen, 


l:uufliin<f,  "  My  brotlicr  is  not  quite  .iccustoined  to  our  French  torm?, 
ami  we  will  have  to  teach  him  the  difference  between  a  hotel  and  an 
inn.  But  to  d^  this,  dear  brother,  you  must  remain  wit'n  us.  Your 
apartments  are  ,ir  retired  as  you  could  possibly  desire  them." 

"  I  know  that  Versailles  is  as  vjist  as  it  is  magnificent,"  said  Joseph, 
"■  but  1  have  already  sent  my  valet  to  take  rooms  for  me  in  Parii!.  Let 
us  then  say  no  more  on  the  subject.*  I  am  very  grateful  to  you  for 
your  hospitality,  but  1  have  come  to  France  to  hear,  to  see,  and  to  learn. 
I  must  be  out  early  and  late,  and  that  would  not  suit  the  royal  etiquette 
uf  Versailles." 

"  1  thought  you  had  come  to  Paris  to  visit  the  King  and  myself,"  said 
Marie  Antoinette  looking  disappointed. 

"  You  were  right,  dear  sister,  but  I  am  not  so  agreeable  that  you 
should  wish  to  have  me  constantly  at  your  side.  I  w.ish  to  become  ac- 
quainted with  your  beautiful  Paris.  Jt  is  so  full  of  treasures  of  art  and 
wonders  of  ijidustry,  that  a  man  has  only  to  use  his  eyes,  and  he  grows 
accomplished.  1  am  much  in  need  of  such  advantages,  sire,  for  you  will 
lind  me  a  barbarian  for  whose  lapses  you  will  have  to  be  indulgent." 

"  1  must  crave  then  a  reciprocity  of  indulgence,"  replied  Louis.  "But 
come.  Count — give  your  arm  to  the  Queen  and  let  her  show  you  the 
way  to  dinner.  Wc  dine  to-day  enfamille^  and  my  brothers  find  sisters 
are  impatient  to  welcome  Count  Falkenstein  lo  Versailles." 


CIIAPTEPv  HI. 

COUNT    FALKENSTEIN    IK    PAUK, 

A  modest  haekney-eoach  stood  before  the  door  of  the  little  hotel  de 
Turenne,  in  the  Rue  Vivicnne.  The  occupant,  who  had  just  alighted  was 
about  to  enter  the  hotel  when  the  host,  who  was  standinrr  before  the 
<loor,  with  his  hands  plunged  to  the  very  bottom  of  his  breeches  pockets, 
stopped  the  way,  and  not  very  politely  inquired  what  he  wanted. 

''  1  want  what  every  body  else  wants  hero,  and  what  your  sign  oflers 
to  everybody — lodgings,"  replied  the  stranger. 

"That  is  precisely  what  you  cannot  have,"  said  mine  host  pompously. 
"  I  am  not  at  liberty  to  receive  any  one,  not  even  a  gentleman  of  your 
distinguished  appearance."  ^ 

"  Then  take  in  your  sign,  my  friend,  .  When  a  man  inveigles  travel- 
lers with  a  sign,  he  ought  to  be  ready  to  satisfy  their  claims  upon  his^ 
hospitality.     I,  therefore,  demand  a  room." 

*  M«ninirH  lU-  M'me  <le  Caiupaii.     Vol  1,  P.  \Tl. 


10  JOSiiPli    IHt,  M:.0UM* 

"  I  tell  you,  sir,  tluit  you  cannot  have  it.  The  hotel  de  Tiirenne  has 
been  too  highly  hono)ed  to  entertain  ordinary  guests.  The  Emperor 
of  Austria,  brothei-  of  the  beautiful  Queen,  has  taken  lodgings  here." 

The  stranger  laughed.  "  If  the  Emperor  were  to  hear  you,  he  would 
take  lodgings  with  some  one  more  discreet  than  yourself.  He  travels 
incognito  in  France." 

"  But  everybody  is  in  the  secret,  sir,  and  all  Paris  is  longing  for  a 
sight  of  Count  Falkenstein,  of  whom  all  sorts  of  delightful  anecdotes 
are  circulated.  He  is  affability  itself,  and  speaks  with  men  generally 
as  if  they  were  his  equals." 

"And  pray,"  said  the  stranger  laughing^  "  is  he  made  differently  from 
other  men '?" 

The  host  eyed  his  interrogator  with  anger  and  contempt.  "  This  is 
very  presuming  language,"  said  he,  "  and  a§  his  Majesty  is  my  guest,  I 
cannot  suffer  it.  The  French  think  the  world  of  him,  and  no  wonder, 
for  he  is  the  most  condescending  sovereign  in  Europe.  He  refused  to 
remain  at  the  palace,  and  comes  to  take  up  his  abode  here.  Is  not  that 
magnanimous  ?" 

"  I  find  it  merely  a  matter  of  convenience.  He  wishes  to  be  in  a  cen- 
tral situation.     Has  he  arrived  ?" 

"No,  not  yet.  His  Valet  is  here,  and  has  set  up  his  camp-bed.  I  am 
waiting  to  receive  the  Emperor  and  his  suite  now." 

"  Is  the  valet  Gunther  here  ?" 

"  Ah,  you  know  this  gentleman's  name  !  Then  perhaps  you  belong 
to  the  Emperor's  suite." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  stranger  laughing,  "  I  shave  him  occasionally.  Now 
call  Gunther." 

There  was  something  rather  imperious  in  the  tone  of  the  gentleman 
who  occasionally  shaved  the  Emperor,  and  the  landlord  felt  ynpelled 
to  obey. 

"  Of  course,"  said  he  respectfully,  "  if  you  shave  the  Emperor,  you 
are  entitled  to  a  room  here," 

The  stranger  followed  him  up  the  broad  staircase  that  led  to  the  finst 
story  of  the  hotel.  As  they  reached  the  landing,  a  door  opened,  and  the 
Emperor's  valet  stepped  out  into  the  hall. 

"His  Majesty  !"  exclaimed  he,  quickly  moving  aside  and  standing 
stiff  as  a  sentry  by  the  door. 

His  Majesty!"  echoed  the  landlord.      "This  gentleman — this — 


Your  Majesty — have  I- 

"  1  am  Count  Falkenstein,"  replied  the  Emperor  amused.  "  You  see 
now  that  you  were  wrong  to  refuse  me,  for  the  man  whom  you  took  for 
an  ordinary  nnortal,  was  neither  more  nor  less  than  the  Emperor  himself." 

The  landlord  bent  the  knee  and  began  to  apologize,  but  Joseph  stop- 
ped him  short.  "  Never  mind,"  said  he,  "  follow  me,  I  wish  to  speak 
with  you." 

The  valet  opened  the  door  and  the  Emperor  entered  the  room,  the 
frightened  landlord  following. 


f  MAltll!.    AMOlxNlil  IK.  1  1 

"  Tliesc  arc  niy  apartments?" -continued  Josopli,  looking  arouriu., 

"  Yes,  your  Majesty." 

•'{  retain  four  of  them.  An  ante-room,  a  sitting-room,  abed-room, 
and  a  room  for  my  valet,  i  will  keep  thorn  for  six  weeks  on  one  con- 
dition." 

"  Your  Majesty  lias  only  to  command  here." 

*' Well,  then,  1  command  you  to  forget  what  I  am  in  Austria.  In 
France,  1  am  Count  Falkenstein,  and  if  ever  1  hear  myself  spoken  of  by 
any  other  name,  1  leave  your  house  on  the  spot." 

"  I  will  obey  your  instructions.  Count." 

"You  understand  then  that  I  desire  to  be  received  and  regarded  as  an 
ordinary  traveller.  From  whence  it  follows  that  you  will  take  in  what- 
ever other  guests  apply  to  you  for  lodging.  You  have  proved  to  me 
to-day  how  unpleasant  it  is  to  be  turned  away,  and  1  desire  to  spare  oth- 
er applicants  the  same  inconvenience." 

"  But  suppose  the  Parisians  should  wish  to  see  Count  Falkenstein  ?" 

"They  will  have  to  submit  to  a  disappointment." 

"Should  any  one  seek  an  audience  of — the  Count?" 

"The  Count  receives  visitors,  but  gives  audience  to  no  one.  His 
visitors  will  be  announced  by  his  valet,  therefore  you  need  give  your- 
self no  trouble  on  that  head.  Should  any  unfortunate  or  needy  persons 
present  themselves,  you'are  at  liberty  to  admit  them." 

"Oh,"  cried  the  host,  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  "how  the  Parisians  will 
appreciate  such  generosity !" 

"They  will  not  have.the  opportunity  of  doing  so,  for  they  shall  not 
hear  a  word  of  it.  Now  go  and  send  me  a  barber,  and  take  all  the  cus- 
tom that  presents  itself  to  you  whether  it  comes  in  a  chariot  or  a  hack- 
ney coach." 

The  host  retired,  and  as  the  door  was  closing,  Count  Rosenberg  ap- 
peared.    The  Emperor  took  his  hand  and  bade  him  welcome. 

"I  have  just  been  to  the  embassy,"  said  Rosenberg,  "and  Count  Von 
Mercy  says "  ' 

"That  I  told  him  I  would  take  rooms  at  the  hotel  of  the  Ambassa- 
dors ;  but  {  also  reserve  to  myself  this  nice  little  bachelor-establishment 
to  which  I  may  retreat  when  1  feel  inclined  to  do  so.  The  advantage  of 
these  double  quarters  is,  that  nobody  will  know  exactly' where  to  find 
me,  and  I  shall  enjoy  some  freedom  from  parade.  At  the  hotel  of  the 
Ambassadors  1  shall  be  continually  bored  with  imperial  honors.  Here 
on  the  contrary  I  am  free  as  air,  and  can  study  Paris  at  my  leisure." 

"  And  you  intend  to  pursue  these  studies  alone.  Count  1  Is  no  one  to 
accompany  you  to  spare  you  inconvenience,  perchance  to  assist  you  in 
possible  peril  ?" 

"  Oh,  my  friend,  as  to  peri],  you  know  that  I  am  not  easily  frighten- 
ed, and  the  Paris  police  is  too  well  organised  to  lose  sight  of  me.  Mon- 
sieur de  Sartlnes  doubtless  thinks  that  1  need  as  much  watching  as  a 
house-breaker ;  for  it  is  presumed  at  Court  that  I  have  come  to  steal 
the  whole  country  and  carry  it  to  Austria  in  my  pocket." 


12  JuSEt'il    iUL  SKUU-SlJ. 

"  Thoj  Know  thnt,  to  Count  Falkenstftin  notlilng  is  impossible,"  re- 
plied Uosenbcrg.  "To  carry  nway  France  would  not  be  a  very  hard 
matter  to  a  man  who  has  robbed  the-  French  people  of  their  hearts." 

'•  Ah  bah  ! — The  French  people  have  no  hearts  ;  they  have  nothing 
but  iinngination.  There  is  but  one  man  in  France  who  has  genuijie  sen- 
sibility, and  that  one  is  their  poor  timid  young  King.  Louis  has  a  heart, 
but  that  heart  1  shall  never  win.  Heaven  grant  that  the  Queen  have 
power  to  make  if,  hers!" 

"  The  Queen  ! — If  Louis  has  a  heart,  it  surely  cannot  be  insensible  to 
the  charms  of  that  lovely  young  Queen  !" 

"-It  ought  not  to  be,  for  she  deserves  the  love  of  the  best  of  men,  but 
things  are  not  as  they  should  be  here.  I  have  learned  i/iat  in  the  few- 
hours  of  my  visit  to  Versailles.  The  Queen  has  bitter  enemies,  and 
you  and  f,  Rosenberg,  must  try  to  disarm  them." 

"What  can  i  do,  Count,  in  this  matter?" 

"You  can  watch  an'd  report  to  me.     Swear  to  me,  as  an  honest  man, 
that  you  willconcealnothingyouhear  to  the  Queen^sdetrimentor  to  mine." 
■  "  I  swear  it.  Count." 

"Tiiauk  you,  my  friend.  Let  us  suppose  that  our  mission  is  to  free 
my  sister  from  the  power  of  a  dragon,  and  restore  her  to  her  lover. 
You  are  my  truj-rty  squire,  and  together  we  shall  prevail  over  the  mon- 
ster, and  deliver  the  Princess. 

At  that  moment  a  knocking  was  heard  at  the  door,  it  was  opened, 
and  an  elegant  cavalier,  with  hat  and  sword,  entered  the  room  with  a 
sweeping  bow.  The  Emperor  stepped  politely  forward,  and  inq^uired 
his  business. 

The  magnificent  cavalier  waved  his  hat,  and  with  an  air  of  proud  c^n- 
s'ciousness,  replied,  "  I  was  requested  to  give  my  advice  regarding  the 
arrangement  of  a  gentleman's  hair." 

"Ah,  the  barber,"  said  the  Emperor.  "Then  be  so  good,  sir,  as  to 
give  your  advice  and  dress  my  hair." 

"  P/irdon  me,  sir,  that  is  not  ray  profession,"  replied  the  cavalier 
haughtily.  '•  i  an^  a  physiognomist.  Allow  me  to  call  in  my  subordi- 
nate," 

"  Certainly,"  said  the"  Emperor,  ready  to  burst  with  Laughter  as  he 
surveyed  the  solemn  demeanor  of  the  artist.  The  latter  walked  majes- 
tically to  the  door  and  opened  it, 

"Jean,"  cried  he,  with  tiie  voice  of  a  field-marshal  ;  and  a  youth  flut- 
tered in,  laden  with  powder-purse/,  combs,  curling-tongs,  ribbons,  poma- 
tum and  the  other  appurtenances  of  a  first-rate  hair-dresser. 

"  Now,  sir,  said  the  physiognomist  gravely,  "  be  so  good  as  to  take 
a  seat." 

Joseph  obeyed  the  polite  command,  upon  which  the  physiognomist 
retired  several  paces,  folded  his  arms,  and  contemplated  the  Emperor  In 
solemn  silence. 

-     "  Be  so  kind  as- to  turn  your  head  to  the  left — a  little  more — so — that 
is  If. — I  wiiih  to  see  your  profile,"  said  he  after  a  while. 


MAliili  A.VKJINEITE.  [> 

"My  defir  sir,  prny  inform  me  whcthcr'in  France  it  is  customary  to 
take  a  man's  portrait  before  you  rlress  his  hair."  asked  the  Emperor, 
scarcely  able  to  restrain  his  inorea>,in;r  Tnirth  ;  while  Rosenberg,  choking 
with  laughter,  retired  to  the  window,  where  Joseph  could  see  him  sha- 
king wilh  his- handkerchief  bciore  his  tnouth. 

"It  is  not  customary,  sir,"  replied  the  physiognomist  with  grave  ear- 
nestness, "  1  study  your  face  that  1  may  decide  which  style  becomes 
you  best." 

Behind  the  chair  stood  the  hair-dresser  in  a  fashionable  suit  of  nan- 
keen with  lace  cuffs  and  ruHies,  hovering  lilce  a  large  yellow  butterfly 
over  the  Emperor,  and  ready  at  the  signal  to  alight  upon  the  imperial 
head  with  brush  and  comb. 

The  physiognomist  continued  his  study.  lie  contemplated  the  head 
of  the  Emperor  from  every  point  of  view,  walkmg  slowly  around  him, 
and  returning  to  take  a  last  survc}'  of  the  front. 

Finally  his  eye  rested  majestically  upon  the  butterfly  which  fluttered 
with  expectation. 

"  Physiognomy  of  a  free-negro,"  said  he  with  pathos.  ''•  Give  the 
gentleman  the  Moorish  co/Z/H/r,""'-  and  with  a  courtly  salute,  he  left  the 
room. 

The  Emperor  now  burst  into  shouts  of  laughter,  in  which  he  waa  hear- 
tily joined  by  Rosenberg. 

Meanwhile  the  butterfly  had  set  to  work,  and  was  frizzing  with  all 
his  might. 

"  How  will  you  manage  to  give  rac  the  Moorish  coiffure  ?"  asked  the 
Emperor,  when  he  had  recovered  his  speech. 

"1  shall  divide  your  hair  into  a  multitude  of  single  locks',  curl,  frizx 
them,  and  they  will  stand  out  from  yonr  head  ill  exact  imitation  of  the 
negro's  wool,"  answered  the  butterfly  triumphantly. 

"  1  have  no  doulit  that  it  would' accord  charmingly  with  mynphysiog- 
nomy,"  said  the  Emperor,  once  more  indulging  in  a  peal  of  laughter, 
*'  but  to-day  1  must  content  myself  with  the  usual  European  stylo. 
Dross  my  hair  as  you  see  it,  and  be  diligent,  for  1  am  pressed  for  time," 

The  hair-dresser  reluctantly  obeyed,  and  iu  a  few  minutes  the  work 
was  completed  and  the  artists  gone. 

"Now,"  said  Joseph  to  Count  Iloscnberg,  •' I  am  about  to  pay  some 
visits.  My  first  one  shall  be  to  Monsieur  de  Maurepas.  He  is  one  of 
our  most  active  opponents,  and  I  long  to  become  acquainted  with  my 
enemies.  Come,  then — let  us  go  to  the  Hotel  of  the  Keeper  of  the 
great  seal." 

*'  Your  Majesty's  carriages  are  not  here,"  replied  Rosenberg. 

"Dear  friend,  my  equipages  are  always  in  readiness.  Look  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  street  at  tliose  hackney-coaches.  They  are  my  car- 
riages, for  the  present.  Now  let  us  cross  over  and  select  one  of  the 
neatest."  \ 

Perfect  silence  reigned  in  the  ante-room  of  Monnieur  do  Maurepas. 
'  *  MoDV'ircs  il'un  voynfjciu  qui  so  repose.    V  "■    P  42, 


14.  '  JOSEPH  THE  SRCON I ».    v 

V.K  Jiveried  servnnt  with  important  mien  walked  forth  and  back  before 
the  closed  door  of  the  receptiou-roon),  like  a  bull-dog  guarding  his  mas- 
ter's sacred  premises.  The  door  of  the  first  ante-room  was  heard  to 
opec,  and  the  servant  turned  an  angry  look  towards  two  gentlemen  wlio 
inade  their  appearance. 

"  Ah,"  said  he,  "  the  two  gentlemen  who  just  now  alighted  from  the 
hackney-coach  ?" 

"  The  same,"  said  the  Emperor.     "Is  Monsieur  le  Comte  at  home"?" 

"He  is,"  ^aid  the  servant  pompously. 

"  Then  be  so  good  as  to  announce  to  him  Count  Falkenstein." 

The  man  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  1  am  sorry  that  I  cannot  oblige 
you  sir.  Monsieur  de  Taboureau  is  with  the  Count,  and  until  their  con- 
ference  is  at  an  end,  I  can  announce  nobody." 

"  Very  well  then,  I  shall  wait,"  replied  Joseph  taking  a  seat  and  point- 
ing cut  another  to  Count  Rosenberg. 

The  servant  resumed  his  walk,  and  the  two  visitors  in  silence  awaited 
the  end  of  the  conference. 

"  Do  you  know,  Rosenberg,"  said  Joseph  after  a  pause,  "  that  I  am 
grateful  to  Count  de  Maurepas  for  this  detention  in  his  ante-room  %  It 
is  said  that  experience  is  the  mother  of  Wisdom. 

Now  my  experience  of  to-day  teaches  me  that  it  is  excessively  tire- 
some to  wait  in  an  ante-room.  I  think  1  shall  be  careful  for  the  future, 
when  I  have  promised  to  receive  a  man,  not  to  make  him  wait.  Ah  ! 
here  comes  another  visitor.  We  are  about  to  have  companions  in  en- 
nui." 

The  person  who  entered  the  room  was  received  with  more  courtesy 
than  "the  gentleman  who  had  come  in  the  hackney-coach."  The  ser- 
vant came  forward  with  eagerness,  and  humbly  craved  his  pardon  while 
informing  him  that  his  Excellency  was  not  yet  visible. 

"  I  shall  wait,"  replied  the  Prince  de  Harrai,  advancing  to  a  seat. 
Suddenly  he  stopped,  and  looked  in  astonishment  at  Count  Falkenstein, 
■who  was  sitting  perfectly  unconcerned  in  a  corner  of  the  room. 

"  Great  Heavens,  his  Majesty,  the  Jlmperor  !"  cried  he,  shocked,  but 
recovering  himself  sufficiently  to  make  a  deep  inclination. 
'"Can  your  Majesiy,  pardon  this  unheard  of  oversight"?" 

"  Still,  Prince,"  replied  the  Emperor,  smiling,  "you  will  disturb  the 
Ministers  at  their  conference." 

"  Why,  man,  how  is  it  that  his  Excellency  is  not  apprised  of  his  Ma- 
jesty's presence  here?"  said  the  Prince  de  Harrai  to  the  lackey. 

"His  Excellency  never  spoke  to  me  of  an  Emperor,"  stammered  the' 
terrified  lackey.  "  He  desired  me  to  admit  no  one  except  a  foreigrij 
Count  whose  name,  your  Highness,  I  have  been  so 'unlucky  as  to  forget." 

"  Except  Count  Falkenstein." 

"  Yes,  your  Highness,  I  believe — that  is,  I  think  it " 

"  And  you  leave  the  Count  to  wait  here  in  the  ante-room !" 

"  I  beg  Monsieur  !e  Comte  a  thousand  pardons.  I  will  at  once  repair 
my  error." 


MAlilE  A^TOJNETTK.  J  o 

*'  Stay,"  said  the  Emperor  imperatirely.     Then  turning  to  the  Prince 
do  Ilarrai  he  contiuued  good  huniorcdly,  '•  If  yonr  Highness  is  made  to"' 
wait  in  the  ante-room,  there  is  no  reason  why  the  Count  of  Falkenstein 
should  not  bear  you  company.     Let  us  then  wait  together." 

The  ministerial  conference  lasted  full  half  an  liour  longer,  but  at  last 
the  door  opened,  and  Monsieur  de  Maurepas  appeared.  IJe  was  coming 
forward  with  inefTablc  courtesy  to  receive  his  guest.';,  when  perceiviuLr 
the  Emperor,  his  self-possession  forsook  him  at  once.  Pale,  hurriecf, 
and  confused,  he  stammered  a  few  inaudible  words  of  apology,  when  Jo- 
seph interrupted  and  relieved  him. 

He  offered  his  hand  with  a  smile,  saying,  "  Do  not  apologize  ;  it  is 
unnecessary.  It  is  nothing  but  right  that  business  of  state  should  have 
precedence  over  private  visitors."* 

"  But  your  Majesty  is  no  private  individual !''  cried  tha  Minister  with 
astonishment. 

"  Pardon  me,"  said  the  Emperor  gravely.  "  As  long  as  I  remain 
here,  I  am  nothing  more.  1  left  the  Emperor  of  Austria  at  Vienna ;  he 
has  no  concern  with  the  Count  of  Falkenstein  who  is  on  a  visit  to  Paris, 
and  who  has  come  hither,  not  to  parade  his  rank,  but  to  see  and  to  learn 
where  there  is  so  much  to  be  learned.  May  I  hope  that  you  will  aid 
Count  Falkenstein  in  liis  search  ^fter  knowlediie." 


CHAPTER.  IV. 

THE  QUKEN  AND  TUE  "  DAMES  DE  LA   HALLE." 

A  brilliant  crowd  thronged  the  apartments  of  the  Princess  d'Artois. 
The  royal  family,  the  Court,  and  the  lords*  and  ladies  of  high  rank  were 
assembled  in  her  reception-rooms,  for  close  by,  an  event  of  highest  im- 
portance to  France  was  about  to  transpire.  The  Princess  was  giving 
birth  to  a  scion  of  royalty.  The  longiugs  of  France  were  about  to  hf 
fulfilled — the  House  of  Bourbon  was  to  have  an  heir  to  its  greatness. 

The  accouchement  of  a  royal  Princess  was  in  those  days  an  event  that 
concerned  all  Paris,  and  all  the  authorities  and  corporations  of  the 
great  capital  had  representatives  in  those  reception-i-ooms.  It  being 
only  a  Princess  who  was  in  labor,  and  not  a  Queen,  none  but  the  royal 
family  and  the  Ministers  were  admitted  intQ  her  bed- chamber.  The 
aristocracy  waited  in  the  reception-rooms,  the  people  in  the  corridors 
and  galleries.  Had  it  been  Marie  Antoinette,  all  the  doors  would  have 
been  thrown  openjoher  subjects.     The  fishwives  of  Paris,  the  laborers, 

♦  The  Ewperor's  nwu  words     Dubner'n  Life  of  Joseph'  II,  pnge  141,     , 


16  Josp:rH  the  second. 

the  f/mnins,  even  the  bccrf^ars  had  as  much  right  to  see  the  Queen  of 
France  delivered,  as  the  hii^'hest  di<»nitary  of  the  land.  The  people  then 
who  thronged  both  palace  and  gardens,  wore  awaiting  the  moment  when 
the  physician  should  appear  upon  the  balcony  and  announce,  to  the  en- 
raptured populace  that  a  Prince  or  Princess  had  been  vouchsafed  to 
France. 

From  time  to  time  one  of  the  royal  physicians  came  out  to  report 
the  progress  of  affairs,  until  linally  the  voice  of  the  accoucheur  proclaim- 
ed that  the  Princess  d'Artois  had  given  birth  to  a  Prince  ! 

A  cry  of  joy  followed  this  announcement.  It  was  that  of  the  young 
mother.  Raising  her  head  from  her  pillow,  she  cried  out  in  ecstaoy, 
"  Oh,  how  happy,  how  happy  J  am."* 

The  Queen  bent  over  her  and  kissed  her  forehead,  whispering  words 
of  affectionate  sympathy  in  her  ear;  but  no  one  saw  the  tears  that  fell 
from  Marie  Antoinette's  eyes  upon  the  laee-covered  pillow  of  her  fortu- 
nate kinswoman. 

She  kissed  the  Princess  again,  as  though  to  atone  for  those  tears,  and 
with  tender  congratulations  took  her  leave.  She  passed  through  the  re- 
ception-rooms, greeting  the  company  with  smiling  composure,  and  then 
went  out  into  the  corridors  which  led  to  her  ovvn  apartments.  Here 
the  scene  changed.  Instead  of  the  respectful  silence  which  had  saluted 
her  passage  through  the  rooms,  she  encountered  a  hum  of  voices  and 
an  eager  multitude,  all  pressing  forward  to  do  her  homage  after  their 
own  rough  fashionl 

Every  one  felt  bound  to  speak  a  word  of  love  or  of  admiration,  and 
it  was  only  by  dint  of  great  exertion  that  the  two  ibotmen  who  prece- 
ded the  Queen,  were  able  to  open  a  small  space  through  which  she  could 
pass.  She  felt  annoyed — even  alarmed — and  for  the  first  time  in  her 
life  regretted  the  etiquette  which  once  had  required  that  the  Queen  of 
France  should  not  traverse  the  galleries  of  Versailles  without  the  escort 
of  her  ladies  of  honor. 

Marie  Antoinette  had  chosen  to  dispense  with  their  attendance,  and 
now  she  was  obliged  to  endure  the  contact  of  those  terrible  "  dames  de 
la  Halle,"  who  for' hundreds  of  years  had  claimed  the  privilege  of  speak- 
ing face  to  face  v.ith  royalty,  and  who  now  pressed  around  her,  with 
jokes  that  crimsoned  her  cheeks  while  they  were  rapturously  received 
*by  the  canaille. 

Marie  Antoinette  felt  the  burning,  while  with  downcast  eyes  and 
trembling  steps,  she  tried  to  hurry  past  the  odious  crowd  o( poissardcs. 

"  Look,  look,"  cried  one,  peering  in  her  face,  "  look  at  the  Queen  and 
sec  her  blushing  like  a  rose-bud." 

But  indeed,  pretty  Queen,  you  should  remember  that  you  are  not  a 
rose-bud,  but  a  full  blown  rose,  and  it  is  time  you  were  putting  forth 
rose-buds  yourself." 

*  Madame  (1«  Oainran,  vpl.  1 ,  pufjo  2'  6  The  Prince  whoso  advent  was  a  source  of  such  trinmpli 
to  his  mother  was  tho  Duke  dc  Berry,  fnUier  of  Uie  present  Countd.n  Ohambord.  )■  o  it  was  who  in 
tS2T  was  stabbed  ns  he  was  about  to  enter  the  fheairc,  and  died  in  \Xv:  arnisorLoiiijXYIII.fyrmcr 
'Jo'iiit  '1"  rrcvcncc,  "^     ■ 


MARIE  ANTOlNEn'E.  17 

\ 

'•  So  it  is,  so  it  is,"  shouted  the  multitude.  "  The  Queen  owes  us  a 
rose-bud,  and  we  raust  have  it." 

"  See  here,  pretty  Queen,"  cried  another  fishwife,  "  it  is  your  fault  if 
■we  stand  here  on  the  staircases  and  out  in  the  hot  sun  to-day.  If  you 
had  done  your  duty  to  France  instead  of  leaving  it  to  the  Princess  in 
yonder,  the  lackeys  would  have  been  obliged  to  open  the  /oors  to  us  as 
.  -well  as  to  the  great  folks,  and  we  would  have  jostled  the  dukes  and  prin- 
ces, and  taken*)ur  ease  on  your  velvet  sofas.  The  ne.xt  time  we  come 
here,  we  must  have  a  tramp  into  tlie  Qaeen's  room,  and  she  must  let  us 
see  herself  and  a  brave  Dauphin,  loo." 

"Yes,  yes,"  cried  the  fishwives  in  chorus,  '•  when  we  come  back  we 
must  see  the  young  Dauphin." 

The  Queen  tried  to  look  as  though  she  heard  none  of  this.  Not  once 
had  she  raised  her  eyes  or  turned  her  head.  Now  she  was  coming  to 
the  end  of  her  painful  walk  through  the  corridors,  for  heaven  be  prais- 
ed !  just  before  her  was  the  door  of  her  own  antc-roora.  Once  across 
that  threshold  she  was  safe  from  the  coarse  ribaldry  that  was  making  her 
heart  throb  and  her  cheeks  tingle ;  for  there  the  rights  of  the  people  en- 
ded, and  those  of  the  Sovereign  began. 

But  the  "  dames  de  la  Halle  "  were  perfectly  aware  of  this,  and  they 
w^er-;  determined  that  she  should  not  escape  so  easily. 

"  Promise  us,"  cried  a  loud,  shrill  yoioe,  "  promise  us  that  we  shall 
have  a  young  Dauphin  as  handsome  jls  his  mother  and  as  good  as  his 
father." 

"Yes,  promise,  promise,"  clamored  the  odious  throng,  and  nten  and 
women  pressed  close  upon  the  Queen  to  see  her  face  afid  hear  her  an- 
swer. 

Marie  Antoinette  had  almost  reached  her  door.  She  gave  a  sigh  of 
relief,  and  for  the  first  time  raised  her  eyes  wfth  a  sad,  reproachful  look 
towards  her  tormentors. 

Just  then  a  strapping  wide-shouldered  huckster  pushed  her  heavy  body- 
between  the  Queen  and  the  door,  and  barring  the  entrance  with  her 
great  brown  arms,  cried  out  vociferously  "  You  do  not  pass  until  you  pro- 
mise.    We  love  you  and  love  the  King :  we  will  none  of  the  Count  of. 
Provence  for  our  King  ;  we  must  have  a  Dauphin." 

The  Queen  still  pretended  not  to  hear.  She  tried  to  evade  the  pois- 
so.rde  and  to  slip  into  her  room,  but  the  w^oman  perceived  the  motion, 
and  confronted  her  again. 

"Be  so  kind,  Madam," *«aid  Marie  Antoinette  mildly,  "as  to  allow 
me  to  pass." 

"  Give  us  the  promise,  then,"  said  the  fishwife  putting  her  arms  a 
kimbo. 

The  other  women  echoed  the  words,  "Give  us  the  promise,  give  us 
the  promise !"  >■ 

Poor  Marie  Antoinette  !  .She  felt  her  courage  leaving  her — she  must 
be  rid  of  this  fearful  band  of  viragos  at  whatever  price.  She  would 
fiiint  if  she  stood  there  much  longer. 


1  8  JOSEPH  THE  SECOND. 

Again  the'loud  cry.     "  Promise  us  a  Dauphin,  a  Danphin,  a  Dauphin." 

"  1  promise,"  at  last  replied  the  Queen.  "  Now,  madam,  in  mercy, 
let  me  have  entrance  to  my  own  rooms." 

The  woman  stepped  back,  the  Queen  passed  away,  and  behind  her  the 
people  sho'itedout  in  every  conceivable  tone  of  voice,  "She  has  prom- 
isc^.     The  Queen  has  promised  a  Dauphin." 

Marie  Antoinette  walked  hurriedly  forward  through  the  first  ante-room 
where  her  footmen  waited,  to  the  second  wherein  her  ladies  of  honor 
were  assembled. 

Without  a  word  to  any  of  them  she  darted  across  the  room  and  open- 
ing the  door  of  her  cabinet,  threw  herself  into  an  arm-chair  and  sobbed 
aloud.     No  one  was  there  excepting  Madame  de  Campan. 

"  Campan,"  said  she,  while  tears  were  streaming  down  her  cheeks, 
"  shut  the  door,  close  the  portiere.  Let  no  one  witness  the  sorrow  of 
the  Queen  of  Franco  !" 

With  a  passionate  gesture,  she  buried  her  face  in  her  hands  and  wept 
aloud. 

After  a  while  she  raised  her  tearful  eyes  and  they  rested  upon  Madame 
de  Campan,  who  was  kneeling  before  her  with  an  expression  of  sincerest 
sympathy. 

"  Oh  Campan,  what  humiliation  I  have  endured  to-day  ! 

The  poorest  woman  on  the  s^i^eet  is  more  fortunate  than  I ;  and  »f 
she  bears  a  child,  upon  her  arm,  sue  can  look  down  with  compassion  up- 
on the  lonely  Queen  of  France, — that  Queen  upon  whose  marriage  the 
blessing  of  God  does  not  rest,  for  she  has  neither  husband  nor  child." 

''Say  not  so,  your  Majesty,  foi"  God  has  smitten  your  enemies,  and 
with  His  own  tender  haud.  He  is  kindling  the  fire  of  love  in  the  heart 
of  the  King,  your  husband." 

Marie  Antoinette  shoolc  her  head  sadly.  "  No — the  King  does  not 
love  me.  His  heart  does  not  respond  to  mine — He  loves  me,  perhaps, 
as  a  sister,  but  no  more — no  more !" 

"  He  loyes  your  Majesty  with  the  passion  and  enthusiasm  of  a  lover, 
but  he  is  very  timid,  and  waits  for  some  token  of  reciprocity  before  he 
dares  to  avow  his  love." 

"  No,  he  does  not  love  me,"  repeated  Marie  Antoinette  with  a  sigh. 
"  I  have  tried  every  means  to  win  his  heart.  He  is  indulgent  towards 
ray  failings,  and  kindly  anticipates  my  wishes  ;  sometimes  he  seems  to 
enjoy  my  society,  but  it  is  with  the  calm,  collateral  afTection  of  a  brother 
for  his  sister.  And  I ! — Oh,  my  God  !  my  whole  heart  is  his,  and  craves 
.  for  that  ardent,  joy-bestowing  love  of  which  poets  sing,  and  which  noble 
\von]en  prize  above  every  earthly  blessing.  Such  love  as  my  father  ga^vfe 
to  my  happy  mother,  I  would  that  the  King  felt  for  me." 

"  The  King  does  not  know  the  extent  of  his  love  for  your  Majesty," 
said  de  Campan  soothingly.  "  Some  fortunate  accident  or  dream  of 
jealousy  will  reveal  it  to  him  before  long." 

"  God  speed  the  accident  or  the  dream  !"  sighed  the  Queen ;  and  forth- 
with her  tears  b^gan  to  (low  anew,  while  her  hands  lay  idly  upon  her  lap. 


MARIE  AN,l•01^"E'lTK  Q  y 

Those  burnlug  tears  at  last  awakened  her  from  the  apathy  of  grief. 
Suddenly  she  gave  a  start  and  threw  back  her  head.  Then  she  rose 
from  her  seat,  and  like  Maria  Theresa  began  to  pace  the  apartment. 
Gradually  her  face  resumed  its  usual  expression,  and  her  demeanor  be- 
came as  it  was  wont  to  be,  dignified  and  graceful. 

Comina:  directly  up  to  Madame  de  Campan,  she  smiled  and  gave  her 
hand.  "Good  Campan,"  said  she,  "you  have  seen  me  in  a  moment  of 
weakness  of  which  1  am  truly  ashamed.  Try  to  forget  it.  dear  friend, 
and  I  promise  that  it  shall  never  be  repeated.  And  now,  call  my  tire- 
women and  order  my  carriage.  Leonard  is  coming  with  a  new  coiffure 
and  i3ertin  has  left  mc  several  beautiful  hats.  Let  us  choose  the  very 
prettiest  of  them  all,  for  I  must  go  and  show  myself  to  the  people.  Or- 
der an  open  carriage  that  every  one  may  see  my  face,  and  no  one  may 
say  that  the  Queen  envies  the  maternal  joys  of  the  (Jountess  d'Artois. 
To-night  we  are  to  have  the  opera  of  Iphigenia — it  is  one  of  my  magni- 
ficent teacher's  chefs  d^amvre.  The  Emperor  and  I  are  to  go  together 
to  listen  to  our  divine  Gluck's  music,  and  Paris  must  believe  that  Ma- 
rie Antoinette  is  happy,  too  happy  to  envy  any  woman  ! — Come,  Cam- 
pan  and  dress  me  becomingly." 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE  ADOPTED  SON  OF  THE  QUEEN. 

An  hour  later,  the  Queen  entered  her  carriage  in  all  the  splendor  of 
full-dress.  Leonard  had  altered  her  coiffure.  Instead  of  the  three-story 
tower,  her  hair  was  low,  and  she  wore  a  most  becoming  hat,  chiefly- 
made  up  of  flowers  and  feathers.  She  also  wore  rouge,  for  she  was  very 
jl^le ;  and  to  conceal  the  traces  of  weeping  she  had  drawn  a  faint  dark 
line  below  her  lower  lashes  which  greatly  increased  the  brilliancy  of  her 
eyes. 

She  ordered  her  coachman  to  drive  through  the  town.  Wherever  the 
royal  outsiders  announced  her  coming,  the  people  gathered  on  either  side 
of  the  streets  to  wave  their  hats,  and  handkerchiefs,  and  greet  her  with 
•very  demonstration  of  enthusiasm  and  love. 

Marie  Antoinette  greatly  enjoyed  her  popularity.  She  bowed  her 
head,  and  smiled  and  waved  her  hand  in  return,  calling  upon  the  ladies 
who  accompanied  her  to  sympathise  with  her  happiness. 

"  Indeed,"  said  she  to  the  Princess  de  Lamballe,*  "  the  people  love 

*  ThfiPrinfJcssdeLamballe  wasfcubscquently  bcbcaded,  Bn<l  her  head  W8»  carri'-d  Ihrough  the 
Btre«te  of  Pons  on  n  pike  — (Trans 


20  JOSEPH  THE  tSECOND. 

me,  I  t!o  believe.  -They  seem  glad  to  see  me,  and  I,  too,  like  to  see 
them." 

"Your  ]\Iajesty  sees  that  in  Versailles,  as  in  Paris,  you  have  thou- 
sands of  lovers,"  replied  the  Princess. 

"  Ah,"  said  the  Queen,  "  my  lovers  are  there  to  be  seen  ;  but  my  en- 
emies, who  lie  concealed  are  more  active  than  my  friends.  And  how  do 
J  know  that  they  are  not  now  among  the  crowd  that  welcomes  me ! 
How  di'eadful  it  is  to  wear  a  mask  through  life  ! — They,  perhaps,  who 
shout  '  long  live  the  Queen,'  are  plotting  against  her  peace,  and  I  who 
smile  in  return,  dare  not  trust  them  !" 

The  royal  equipage  had  now  reached  the  gates,  and  was  passing  into 
the  country.  Marie  Antoinette  felt  a  sense  of  relief  at  the  change.  She 
gazed  with  rapture,  upon  the  rich  foliage  of  the  trees,  and  then  looking 
pensively  above,  for  a  few  moments,  she  watched  the  floating  clouds  of 
blue  and  silver,  and  then  followed  the  flight  of  the  birds  that  were  soar- 
ing in  such  freedom  through  the  air. 

"  How  1  wish  that  I  could  fly,"  said  she,  sighing.  "  We  mortals  are 
less  privileged  than  the  little  birds — we  must  creep  along  the  earth  with 
the  reptiles  that  we  loathe  ! — Faster,  tell  the  coachman  to  drive  faster  !" 
cried  she  eagerly,  "1  would  like  to  move  rapidly  just  now — Faster,  still 
faster !"     ■ 

The  command  we;it  forward,  and  the  outriders  dashed  ahead  at  full 
speed.  The  carriage  >whirled  past  the  cottages  on  the  ^yayside,  while  the 
Queen  leaning  back  upon  her  satin  cushions  gave  herself  up  to  the  dreamy 
enjoyment;  which  steals  over  the  senses  during  a  rapid  drive. 

Suddenly  there  was  an  exclamation  and  the  horses  were  reined  in. 
The  Queen  started  from  her  reverie  and  leaned  forward. 

"  W  hat  has  happened  ?"  cried  she  of  the  equerry,  who  at  that  moment 
sprang  to  the  side  of  the  caleche. 

"  Your  Majesty,  a  child  has  just  run  across  the  road,  and  has  been 
snatched  from  under  the  horses'  feet." 

"  A  child  !"  exclaimed  the  Queen,  starting  from  her  seat.  "  Is  it  kill- 
ed"?'' "No,  your  Majesty,  it  is  luckily  unhurt.  The  coachman  reined 
up  his  horses  iji  time  for  one  of  the  outriders  to  save  it.  It  is  unhurt — 
nothing  but  frightened.  Your  Majesty  can  see  him  now  in  the  arms  df 
the  old  peasant-woman  there." 

"  She  is  about  to  return  to  the  cottage  with  it,"  said  tbe  Queen.  Then 
stretching  her  arms  towards  the  old  woman,  she  cried  out  in  an  implo- 
ring voice  :  "  Give  me  the  child — bring-  it  here  !  Heaven  has  sent  it 
to  me  as  a  comfort !     Give  it  to  me — I  entreat  you." 

Meanwhile  the  old  woman  recalled  by  the  equerry,  was  approaching 
the  carriage.  "  See,"  exclaimed  the  Queen  to  her  ladies,  "  see  what  a 
lovely  boy  !"  And  indeed  he  was  a  beautiful  child  in  spite  of  his  little 
tattered  red  jacket,  and  his  bare  brown  legs,  as  dark  with  dirt  as  with 
sun-burn. 

"  Where  is  his  mother'?"  asked  Marie  Antoinette,  looking  compas- 
sionately at  the  child. 


MAKlfc;  ANTOlNErrE.    .  21 

"  My  daughter  is  dead,  Madatne,"  said  the  peasant.  "  8he  died  last 
wintei  and  left  me  the  burden  of  five  young  children  to  feed." 

"They  shall  burthen  you  no  lonj;er,"  e.\clain),ed  the  Queen  kindly. 
"  f  will  maintain  theni  all,  and  this  little  angel"  you  must  give  to  me. 
Will  you  not?" 

"  Ah  Madame,  the  child  is  only  too  lucky  !  But  my  little  Jacob  is 
so  wilful  that  he  will  not  stay  with  you." 

"I  will  teach  him  to  love  me,"  returned  the  Queen.  "Give  hira  to 
me  now." 

She  leaned  forward  and  received  the  child  from  his  grand-mother's  arms. 
It  was  so  astounded,  that  it  uttered  not  a  cry  :  it  only  opened  its  gretit, 
blue  eyes  to  their  utmost,  while  the  Queen  settled  it  upon  her  lap. 

"Sec,"  exclaimed  the  delighted  Marie  Antoinette,  '•  he  is  not  at  all 
afraid  of  me.  Oh  we  are  going  to  be  excellent  friends!  Adieu,  rav 
poor  old  grand-mother.  I  will  send  you  something  for  your  children  as 
soon  as  I  reach  home.  And  now  Monsieur  de  Vievigne,  let  us  return 
to  Versailles.  Tell  your  grand-mama  good-bye  little  Jacob.  You  are 
going  to  ride  with  me." 

"  Adieu  my  little  one,"  said  the  grand-mothei*    "  Don't  forget  your 

Her  words  were  drowned  in  the  whirr  of  the  carriage  which  disap- 
peared from  her  wondering  eyes  in  a  clould  of  dust. 

The  motion,  the  noise,  and  the  air  brushing  hie  curls  into  his  face, 
awakened  the  boy  from  his  stupor.  He  started  from  the  Queen's  arms, 
and  looking  wildly  around,  began  to  yell  with  all  his  might.  Never  had 
such  uuharmonious  sounds  assailed  the  ears  of  the  Queen  before.  But 
she  seemed  to  be  quite  amused  with  it.  The  louder  little  Jacob  scream- 
ed and  kicked,  the  closer  she  pressed  him  to  her  heart,  nor  did  she  seem, 
to  observe  that  his  dirty  little  feet  were  leaving  unsightly  marks  upon 
her  rich  silk  dress. 

The  calecke  arrived  at  Versailles  and  drew  up  before  the  doors  of  the 
palace.  With  her  newly  acquired  treasure  in  her  arms,  the  Queen  at- 
tempted to  leave  the  carriage,  but  the  shrieks  and  kicks  became  so  vig- 
orous that  she  was  obliged  to  put  the  child  down.  The  pages,  gentle- 
men, and  ladies  in  waiting,  stared  in  astonishment  as  her  Majesty^  went 
by,  holding  the  refractory  little  peasant  by  the  hand,  his  rosy  cheeks 
covered  with  many  an  arabesque,  the  joint  production  of  tears  and  dirt. 
Little  cared  Jacob  for  the  splendor  around  him,  still  less  for  the  caress- 
es of  his  royal  protectress. 

"  I  want  to  go  to  my  grandmother,"  shrieked  he,  "  I  want  my  brother 
Louis  and  sister  Marianne  !" 

"  Oh,  dear  little  one !"  cried  the  Queen,  "what  an  affectionate  heart 
he  has !  He  loves  his  relatives  better  than  all  our  luxury,  and  the 
Queen  of  France  is  less  to  him  than  his  poor  old  grand-mother  ! — Never 
mind,  darling,  you  shall  be  loved  as  well  and  better  than  you  ever  were 
at  home,  and  all  the  more  that  you  have  not  learned  to  flatter !" 

She  bent  down  to  caress  him,  but  he  wiped  off  her  kisses  with  indig- 


22  JOSEPH  THE  SECOND, 

nation.  Marie  Antoinette  laughed  heartily^  and  led  the  child  into  her 
cabinet  where  she  placed  him  on  the  very  spot  where  she  had  .been 
weeping  a  few  hours  earlier. 

"Campan,"  said  she,  ''  see  how  good  God  has  been  to  me  to-day  ! 
He  has  sent  me  a  child  upon  whom  I  can  lavish  all  the  love  which  is 
consuming  my  poor,  lonely  heart.  Yes  my  little  one,  I  will  be  a  mother 
to  you,  and  may  God  and  your  own  mother  hear  my  vow  !  I^Iow,  Cam- 
pan,  let  us  take  counsel  together  as  to  what  is  to  be  done.  Pirst,  we 
must  have  a  nurse,  and  then  his  face  must  be  washed  and  he  must  be 
dressed  as  becomes  my  pretty  little  adopted  son.'' 

The  child  who  had  ceased  his  cries  for  a  moment,  now  broke  out  into 
fresh  Shrieks.  "  i  want  to  go  home  J  1  won't  stay  here  in  this  big  hou;ie! 
Take  me  to  my  grand-mother  !" 

"  Hush,  you  unconscionable  little  savage  !"  said  Madame  de  Campan. 

'•  Oh  Campan,"  cried  the  Queen  deprecatingly,  '•  how  can  you  chide 
the  little  fellow!  His  cries  are  so  many  proofs  of  the  honesty  of  his 
heart  which  is  not  to  be  bribed  of  its  love  by  all  that  royalty  can  be- 
stow !"* 


CHAPTER  VI, 

"  GUAKTONS,  CELEBR0N8   XOTRE  REINE." 

The  opera-house  was  full  to  overflowing.  In  the  lowest  tier  were  the 
ladies  of  the  aristocracy,  their  heads  surmounted  by  those  abominable 
towers  of  Leonard's  invention.  Above  them  sat  the  less  distinguished 
spectators,  and  the  parquet  was  thronged  by  poets,  learned  men,  stu- 
dents and  civil  officers  of  various  grades.  Almost  every  class  found 
some  representatives  in  that  brilliant  assemblage,  and  each  one  felt 
keenly  the  privilege  he  enjoyed  in  being  present  on  that  particular  oc- 
casion. But  it  was  not  altogether  for  the  sake  of  the  music  that  all  PariS' 
had  flocked  to  the  opera.  The  Parisians  were  less  desirous  to  hear ' 
Ipheginia  than  to  see  the  Emperor  who  was  to  be  there  in  company 
with  his  sister.  4 

Since  his  arrival  in  the  capital  Joseph  had  been  the  theme  of  every 
conversation.  Every  one  had  something  to  relate  of  his  afl^abijity,  his 
condescension,  or  his  goodness.     His  bo7i  mots,  too,  were  in  every  mouth; 

•  The  Queen  kept  her  wonl.  TIir  boy  was  brought  up  as  her  own  child.  lt«  nlways  breakfasted 
and  dined  by  her  side,  and  she  never  called  him  by  any  other  name  save  thatoi"  my  child  "  When 
•Taeques  £rr<"w  up,  he  displayed  a  taste  for  painting,  and  of  courso  he  had  every  ndvantaee  ■which, 
royal  protection  could  afford  him  FTe  wks  privileged  to  approach  the  Queen  unannounced.  But 
when  the  Revolution  broke  out,  this  miserable  wretch,  to  avoi't  unpopularity,  joined  tho  Jacobine, 
and  wsw  ODe  of  tfle  Qneen's  bitterest  enemies  and  most  frenzied  accusers. 


MAlvlK  AxNilJlMailfi.  2.i 

and  the  Parisians  who  at  every  epoch  have  been  so  ad  Jietod  to  wit,  wero 
so  rouch  the  more  enraptured  with  the  impromptu  good  things  which 
fell  from  Joseph's  lips,  that  the  Bourbons  were  entirely  deficient  in 
sprightliness. 

Every  man  had  an  anecdote  to  relate  that  conce.rned  Joseph.  Yes- 
terday he  had  visited  thft  Hotel-Dicu.  He  had  even  asked  for  admission 
'  to  the  apartments  of  the  lying-in  women,  and  upon  being  refused  en- 
trance by  the  sisters,  he  had  said  "  Do  let  me  see  the  first  scene  of  hu- 
man misery."  The  sisters  struck  by  the  words  as  well  as  by  the  noble 
bearing  of  the  stranger,  had  admitted  him,  upon  taking  leave  he  had  re- 
marked to  the  Nun  who  accompanied  him,  "  the  sufferings  which  you 
witness  in  this  room,  reconcile  you  without  doubt  to  the  vows  you  have 
made."  It  was  only  after  his  departure  that  his  rank  was  discovered, 
and  this  by  means  of  the  gift  he  left  in  the  hands  of  the  prioress — a  draft 
upon  the  imperial  exchequer  of  forty-eight  thousand  livres. 

A  few  days  previous,  he  had  sought  entrance  to  the  '-Jardin  des 
Plantes ;"  but  the  porter  had  refused  to  open  the  gates  until  a  larger 
number  of  visitors  should  arrive.  So  the  Emperor,  instead  of  discover- 
ing himself,  took  a  seat  under  the  trees  and  waited  quietly  until  the 
people  had  assembled.  On  his  return,  he  had  given  eight  louis  d'ors  to 
the  porter,  and  thus  the  latter  had  learned  his  Majesty's  rank. 

Again — the  Emperor  had  called  upon  Buffon,  announcing  himself  sim- 
ply as  a  traveller.  Buffon,  who  was  indisposed,  had  gone  forward  to  re- 
ceive his  guest  in  a  dressing-gown.  His  embarrassment,  as  he  recognis- 
ed  his  imperial  visitor  had  been  very  great.  But  Joseph  laughing,  said, 
"when  the  scholar  comes  to  visit  his  teacher,  do  you  suppose  that  he 
troubles  himself  about  the  professor's  costume  ?" 

That  was  not  all — Ho  was  equally  affable  with  artists.  He  talked 
daily  with  the  painters  in  the  Louvre  ;  and  having  paid  a  visit  to  the  great 
actor  Le  Kain,  whom  he  had  seen  the  night  before  in  the  character  of  a 
Roman  Emperor,  he  found  him  like  ButTon  in  a  dressing-gown. 

"  When  Le  Kain  would  have  apologised,  the  Emperor  had  said  "  Sure- 
ly Emperors  need  not  be  so  fastidious  one  towards  the  other!" 

"  The  Emperor  goes  every  where,"  cried  a  voice  in  the  crowd. 

"  Yesterday  he  paid  a  visit  to  one  of  the  tribunals  and  remained  dur- 
ing the  sitting.  He  was  recognised,  and  the  President  would  'have  as- 
signed him  a  seat  among  the  council,  but  the  Emperor  declined  and  re- 
mained in  a  trellised-box  with  the  other  spectators." 

"  How,"  cried  another  voice,  ''  the  Emperor  sat  in  a  little  common 
trellised  box  ?" 

"  \  es,"  replied  the  first  speaker,  "  he  was  in  one  of  those  boxes  called 
lanterns.  Even  Marsorio  and  Pasquin  had  something  to  say  on  the 
subject."* 

"  What  did  they  say  ?  Tell  us  what  said  our  good  friends,  Marsorio 
and  Pasquin." 

♦Masnrirt  and  Pasqoin  were  the  "nonvmons  wits  of  the  people,  the  authors  of  all  tho  epiRranri" 
nnd  pn«quinade8  which  were  paetpfl  about  tb-;  streets  and-orlgiuntod  wUh— nobody.  Masorio  ami 
Pasquin  still  exist  in  Ronii\ 


24  ■       JUSl!:PH  THE  SKOOND. 

"  Here  ifc  is.  I  found  it  pasted  on  n.  corner  of  the  Palais  Royal  and  1 
tore  it  down  and  put  it  in  my  pocket.     Shall  I  read  it?" 

"  Yes,  yes,"  cried  the  multitude ;  and  it  was  whispered  among  them 
that  this  was  Riquelmont,  ihe  author  of  the  satires  that  were  sung  on 
the  Pont-Neuf,  and  were  attributed  to  Marsorio  and  Pasc[uin, 

"  Now  gentlemen  listen  !"  \ 

And  with  a  loud  voice,  Riquelmont  began  to  read: 

Marsorio. — "  Grand  miracle,  Pasquin, 

Le  soleil  dans  une  lanterne  ! 
Pasquin. — AUons  done,  tu  me  bernes  !      - 
Marsorio, — Pour  te  dire  io  vrai,  tifens  :  Diogene  en  vain 

Cherchait  jadws  un  homme,  nne  lanterne  a  la  main, 

Eh  bien  a  Paris  ce  matin 

11  rent  trouve  dans  la  lanterne." 

"  Good,  good  !"  cried  the  listeners,  "the  Emperor  is  indeed  a  wonder- 
ful  " 

Just  then  the  bell  for  the  raising  of  the  curtain  was  heard,  and  the 
crowd  pressed  into  the  parterre.  Ainid  the  profoundest  stillness  the 
opera  began.  Beiore  the  first  scene  had  ended,  a  slight  rustling  of  chairs 
was  heard  in  the  King's  box,  and  all  eyes  were  turned  thither.  The 
whole  royal  family,  with  the  exception  of  the  King,  were  there ;  and  in 
their  midst,  loveliest  of  all,  appeared  the  young  Queen,  brilliant  with 
youth,  grace,  and  beauty,  she  bent  her  head,  and  with  bewitching  smiles, 
returned  the  greetings  of  her  subjects. 

The  audience  broke  out  into  a  storm  of  rapturous  applause,  and  Marie 
Antoinette,  kissing  her  fair  Land,  took  her  seat  and  prepared  to  listen  to 
the  music.  , 

But  the  spectators  were  less  interested  in  Iphigenia  than  in  the  impe- 
rial box.  Their  eyes  were  continually  seeking  the  Emperor,  who,  con- 
cealed behind  the  heavy  velvet  draperies,  was  absorbed  in  the  perform- 
ance. At  one  stage  of  the  representation,  Iphigenia  is  led  in  triumph 
through  the  Greek  camp,  while  a  chorus  of  Thessalians  sing, 

"  Que  d'attraits,  que  de  majeste 
Que  de  graces  I  que  de  beaute  ! 
Chantons,  celebrons  notre  reine  !" 

The  audience  took  the  cue  and  transformed  themselves  into  actors. 
Every  eye  and  every  head  turned  to  the  royal  box,  and  for  the  second 
time  every  hand  vras  raised  to  applaud.  From  boxes,  galleries  and 
parquet,  the  cry  was  '■  Da  capo,  da  capo !     Again  that  chorus !" 

The  singer  who  represented  Achilles  comprehended  that  the  enthusi- 
asm of  the  spectators  was  not  for  the  music. 

Enchanted  with  the  idea  of  being  the  mouth-piece  of  the  people,  he 
stepped  to  the  front  of  the  stage,  and  raising  his  arm  in  the  direction  of 
the  royal  box,  he  repeated  the  line, 

Chantons,  celebrons  notre  reine  !" 


MAIUK   ANTOINETlf.  25 

The  heart  of  the  young  Queen  overflowed  with  excess  of  joy.  She 
leaned  towards  the  Emperor  and  gently  draw'ng  him  forward,  the 
brother  and  sister  both  acknowledged  the  graceful  compliment.  The 
Emperor  was  saluted  with  shouts,  and  the  singers  began  for  the  second 
time,  "  Chantous,  ceK-hrons  notre  reine  !"  The  people  with  one  Record 
rose  from  their  seats  and  now  on  e<>ery  side,  even  from  the  stage,  were 
heard  the  cries  of"  Long  live  our  Queen  !     Long  live  the  Emperor  !" 

Marie  Antoinette,  leaning  on  her  brother's  arm  bent  forward  again ; 
and  for  the  third  time,  the  singers,  and  with  them  the  people  sang 
"■  Chantons,  celcbrons  notre  reine !" 

This  time,  every  occupant  of  the  imperial  box  rose  to  return  acknowl- 
edgements, and  the  audience  began  for  the  fourth  time, 

"  Chantons,  celebrons  notre  reine !" 
The  Queen  was  so  overcome  that  she  could  no  longer  restrain  her 
tears.     She   tried   to  incline  her  head,  but  her  emotion  overpowered 
her,  and  covering  her  face  with  her  handkerchief,   she  leaned  upon  the 
shoulder  of  her  brother  and  wept. 

The  applause  ceased.     The  emotion  of  Marie  Antoinette  had  commu- 
nicated itself  to  her  worshippers,  and  many  an  eye  was  dimmed  with 
sympathetic  tears.     Suddenly  in  the  parterre,  a  tall,  manly   form  arose 
from  his  seat,  and  pointing  to  the  Queen  recited  the  following  couplet : 
"  Si  le  peuple  pent  espcrer 
Qu'il  lui  sera  pjcrmis  de  rire 
Ce  n'est  que  sous  I'heureux  empire 
Des  princes  qui  savent  pleurer." 
This  happy  impromptu  was  enthusiastically  received.     Marie  Antoi- 
nette had  dried  her  tears  to  listen,  and  as  she  prepared  to  leave  the  thea- 
tre she  turned  to  her  brother  and  said, 

"Oh  that  I  could  die  now !  Death  would  be  welcome,  for  in  this 
proud  moment,  I  have  emptied  my  cup  of  earthly  joy  !"* 


CHAPTER  VIL 

THE    HOTEL    TURENNE. 

-  The  host  of  the  Hotel  Turenne  had  punctually  obeyed  the  orders  of 
Count  Falkenstein  ;  he  had  taken  every  applicant  for  rooms,  whether  he 
came  in  an  ignominious  hackney-coach  or  inv  a  magnificent  carriage. 

•MemoiresdeWebor,  vol.  1,  I'.  48,— Memoircs  do  Mme  do  Cmnpan,  vol.  1,  P.  12T,— Hubner, 
Life  of  Joseph  II,  P.  Wi. 


26  JOSEPH  THK  SKCOMa 

But  now  every  room  was  taken,  and  the  host,  fearful  of  con<5eqviences, 
was  waithig  for  the  Emperor  to  appear,  that  he  might  be  informed  of 
the  important  fact.     In  ten  or  fifteen  minutes  his  imperial  Majesty  was  " 
seen  coming  down  the  staircase,  and  Monsieur  Louis  approached  with  a 
low  bow. 

"May  I  have  the  honor  of  speaking  with  Count  Falkenstein?" 

"Certainly,"  said  the  Count.     "What  is  it?" 

"  I  wished  to  inform  Monsieur  le  Comte  that  my  hotel  is  full  to  the 
garret.     Should  Monsieiir  le  Comte  then  see  a  traveller  leaving  my  door 

he  will  know  that  I  am  not  infringing  his  imp his  orders,  I  mean. 

1  have  not  a  single  room  left." 

"Your  hotel  is  popular;  I  congrata'ate  you,  but  I  am  not  at  all  sur- 
prised, for  you  make  your  visitors  exceedingly  comfortable." 

"A  thousand  thanks.  Monsieur  le  Comte,  but  that  is  not  the  reason. 
I  have  never  been  so  thronged  before.  It  is  all  owing  to  the  honor  con- 
ferred upon  me  by  your ,  I  mean  by  Monsieur  le  Comte.     It  will  be 

a  heavy  disappointment  to  all  who  apply  to  hear  that  1  have  no  room." 

"  Monsieur  Louis,"  said  the  Emperor,  "you  are  mistaken.  There  are 
two  empty  rooms  opening  into  mine." 

"  But  Monsieur  le  Comte,  it  is  impossible  for  me  to  let  those  rooms, 
for  not  only  every  word  spoken  in  your  own  room  can  be  overheard 
there,  but  yourself  will  be  disturbed  by  hearing  all  that  is  said  by  the 
occupalits.  You  see  that  these  rooms  cannot  be  occupied.  Monsieur  le 
Comte." 

"  I  see  nothing  of  the  sort,"  said  Joseph,  laughing.  "  Not  only  are 
you  welcome  to  let  those  two  rooms,  but  I  request  you  to  do  so.  Let 
no  man  be  incommoded  on  my  account.  I  shall  know  how  to  submit  to 
the  inconvenience  which  may  be  entailed  upon  me." 

"  Well,  he  certainly  is  the  most  condescending  and  hi?mane  prince 
that  I  ever  heard  of,"  thought  Monsieur  Louis,  as  the  Emperor's  car- 
riage drove  olT,  "and  one  thing  is  certain — I  shall  be  careful  whom  I< 
give  him  for  neighbors.  I  do  not  believe  a  word  of  what  the  Count  of 
Provence's  valet  says,  that  he  wants  to  take  Alsatia  and  Lorraine,  and 
has  come  to  France  to  change  the  ministry.  The  King's  brothers  are 
not  over-fond  of  the  Qu-sen  nor  of  the  Emperor,  but  the  people  love 
them,  and  everybody  in  Paris  envies  me,  now  that  I  have  the  great 
Emperor  as  my  guest." 

And  Monsieur  Louis,  with  head  erect  and  hands  folded  behind  him, 
went  up  and  down  his  entrance-hall  enjoying  the  sunshine  of  his  favor 
with  princes. 

"  I  do  wish  nobody  else  would  come  here,"  thought  he,  in  an  ecstacv 
of  disinterestedness.  "Suppose  that  the  enemies  of  his  Majesty  should, 
introduce  a  murderer  in  ray  house,  and  the  Emperor  should  lose  hfs  life! 
I  should  be  eternally  disgraced.  I  am  rpally  responsible  to  his  Majes- 
ty's subjects  for  his  safety.  I  am  resolved,  since  he  has  commanded 
me  to  let  these  rooms,. to  allow  none  but  ladies  to  occupy  them." 

rilled  with  enthusiasm  at  this  fortunate  idea,  the  host  walked   to  the 


\lAKlli  ANTUlNErnt.  .    27 

door  and  shook  his  fist  at  mankind  in  general — above  all  to  that  segre- 
gate of  the  male  species  who  might  happen  to  be  entertaining  thoughts 
of  lodging  at  the  Jiotel  Turenne. 

Presently  a  travelling-chariot  came  thundering  to  the  door.  Mon- 
sieur Louis  peered  with  his  keen  black  eyes  into  the  vehicle,  and  to  his 
great  relief  saw  two  ladies. 

The  gentleman  who  accompanied  them  asked  to  be  accommodated 
with  two  rooms  ;  and  the  host,  in  his  joy,  not  only  opened  the  coach- 
door  himself,  but  took  the  huge  silver  candelabrum  from  the  butler's 
hand,  and  lighted  tnc  company  himself  to  their  apartments. 

As  they  reached  the  landing,  a  carriage  stopped  before  the  door,  and 
a  m<inly  voice  was  heard  in  the  vestibule  below. 

"  How  liicky  for  me  that  these  happened  to  be  women,"  thought  Mon- 
sieur Louis,  "for  there  is  the  Emperor  already  returned  from  the 
theatre !" 

He  opened  the  door  of  the  ante-room  and  his  guests  followed  him  in 
silence.  Not  a  word  had  been  spoken  by  either  of  the  ladies,  and 
nothing  was  to  be  seen  of  their  faces  for  the  thick  veils  which  covered 
them. 

"  Do  the  ladies  require  supper  ?"  inquired  the  host. 

"  Certainly,"  replied  the  gentleman,  whom  Monsieur  Louis  took  to  be 
the  husband  of  the  lady  who  had  seated  herself.  "The  best  you  can 
provide  ;  and  let  it  be  ready  in  quarter  of  an  hour." 

"  AVill  Madame  be  served  in  this  rooni?" 

"Yes,  and  see  that  we  have  plenty  of  light.     Above  all,  be  quick." 

"  This  gentleman  is  very  curt,"  thought  the  host  as  he  left  the  room. 
"  What  if  he  Should  entertain  evil  designs'? — I  must  be  on  my  guard." 
Then  returning,  he  added,  "  Pardon,  Monsieur,  for  how  many  will  sup- 
per be  served  ?" 

The  stranger  cast  a  singular  glance  at  the  lady  in  the  arm-chair,  and 
said  in  a  loud  and  somewhat  startling  voice,  "For  two  only." 

"  Right,"  thought  the  host,  "  the  other  one  is  a  lady's  maid.  So  much 
the  worse.  They  are  people  of  quality,  and  all  that  tribe  hate  the  Em- 
peror.    I  must  be  on  my  guard." 

So  Monsieur  Louis  determined  to  warn  the  Emperor,  but  first  he  at- 
tended to  his  professional  duties.  "  Supper  for  the  guests  just  arrived  !" 
cried  he  to  the  chief  butler.  "Plenty  of  light  for  the  chandeliers  and 
candelabra  !  Let  the  cook  be  apprised  that  he  must  be  ready  before 
fifteen  minutes,"  &;c.  &c. 

Having  delivered  himself  of  these  orders,  the  host  hastened  to  inform 
the  Emperor's  valet,  Gunthcr,  of  his  uneasiness  and  suspicions. 

Meanwhile,  the  f/arcojis  were  going  hither  aqd  thither  preparing  sup- 
per for  the  strangers.  Scarcely  ton  minutes  had  elapsed  before  the.  first 
course  was  upon  the  table,  and  the  butler  with  a  bow  announced  the 
supper,  "  Madame  est  servie.''^ 

The  singular  pair  for  whom  the  costly  preparations  had  been  made, 
spoke  not  a  word  to  each  other.     The  lady,  motionless,  kept  within  the-- 


'28  .  JOSEPH  THE  SECOND. 

privacy  of  her  veil,  and  the  gentleman,  who  was  watching  the.  waiters 
with  an  ugly  frown,  looked  vexed  and  impatient. 

"Retire,  all  of  you,"  said  he  imperiously.  "  I  shall  have  the  honor 
of  waiting  on  Madame,  myself." 

The  butler  bowed  and  with  his  well-bred  subordinates  left  the  rootii. 

"Now,  Mada0i,"  said  the  stranger,  with  a  glance  of  dislike  to  the  la- 
dy's maid,  "  do  you  leave  the  room  also.  Go  and  attend  to  your  own 
wants.     Good-niyht." 

The  maid  made  no  reply,  but  remained  standing  in  the  window  as 
though  nothing  had  been  said. 

"  You  seem  not  to  hear,"  said  the  stranger.  "  I  order  you  to  leave 
this  room,  and  furthermore  I  order  you  to  return  to  your  place  as  a  ser- 
vant, and  not  to  show  you"seif  here  in  any  other  capacity.  Go,  and 
heed  my  words !" 

The  lady's  maid  smiled  derisively  and  replied,  "  Count,  I  await  my 
lady's  orders." 

,  The  veiled  lady  then  spoke.  "  Gratify  the  Count,  my  good  Dupont," 
said  she  kindly.  "  1  do  not  need  you  to-night.  Let  the  host  provide 
you  with  a  comfortable  room,  and  go  to  rest.     You  must  be  exhausted." 

"  At  last,  at  last  we  are  alone,"  exclaimed  the  Count  as  the  door  clos- 
ed upon  his  enemy,  the  lady's  maid. 

"Yes,  we  are  alone,"  repeated  the  lady,  and  throwing  off  her  wrap- 
pings, the  tall  and  elegant  form  of  the  Countess  Esterhazy  was  disclosed 
to  view. 


CHAPTER  VIIL 

THE  DENOUEMENT. 

For  a  m.oment  they  confronted  one  another  ;  then  Coiant  Schulenberg 
with  open  arms,  advanced  towards  the  Countess. 

"  Now,  Margaret,"  cried  he,  "  you  are  mine.  I  have  earned  this  vic- 
tory by  my  super-human  patience.  It  is  achieved— I  am  awarded — 
come  to  my  longing  heart !" 

He  would  have  clasped  her  in  his  arms,  but  she  stepped  back,  and 
again,  as  in  her  dressing-room  at  Vienna,  her  hands  were  raised  to  ward 
him  off.  "  Do  not  dare  to  touch  me,"  said  she  with  a  look  of  supreme 
aversion.  "  Come  no  nearer.  Count  Schulenberg,  for  your  breath  is  poi- 
son, and  the  atmosphere  of  your  proximity  is  stiffmg  me." 

The  Count  laughed.  "  My  beautiful  Margaret,  you  seek  in  vain  to 
discourage  me  by  your  charming  sarcasm.     Oh,  my  lovely,  untamed 


MAIUE  A^'T01NE'^TE,  29 

angel,  away  with  your  coldness  !  it  enflames  ray  passion  so  much  the 
more.     I  would  not  give  up  the  triumph  of  this  hour  for  a  kingdom  !" 

"  It  will  yield  you  nothincr  nevertheless,  save  my  contempt.  You 
must  renounce  your  dream  of  happiness,  for  I  assure  you* that  it  has  been 
but  a  dream." 

"  You  jest  still,  my  Margaret,"  replied  the  Count  with  a  forced  laugh. 
"  But  I  tell  you  that  I  intend  to  tame  my  wild  doe  into  a  submissive 
Avoman,  who  loves  her  master  and  obeys  his  call.  Away  with  this  mask 
of  reluctance !  You  love  me,  for  you  have  piven  me  the  proof  of  your 
love  by  Ie^ving  kindred  and  honor  to  follow  me." 

"  Nay,  Count.  I  have  given  you  a  proof  of  my  contempt,  for  I  have 
deliberately  used  you  as  a  tool.  You,  the  handsome  and  admired  Count 
tSchulenberg — you  who  fancied  you  were  throwing  me  the  handkerchief 
of  your  favor,  you  are  nothing  to  me  but  the  convenient  implement  of 
my  revenge.  You  came  hither  as  my  valet,  and  as  I  no  longer  need  a 
valet,  I  discharge  you.  You  have  served  me  well,  and  I  thank  you. 
You  have  done  admirably,  for  Dupont  told  me  to-day  that  you  had  not 
yet  exhausted  the  money  I  gave  you  for  the  expenses  of  our  journey.  I. 
am,  thereff^re,  highly  satisfied  with  you,  and  will  recommend  you  to  any 
other  woman  desirous  of  bringing  disgrace  upon  her  husband." 

The  Count  stared  at  her  in  perfect  w'onder.  He  smiled  too — but  the 
smile  was  sinister  aud  threatened  evil. 

"  How  !"  said  the  COuntess.  "  You  are  not  yet  gone !  True — true — 
I  forgot — a  lady  has  no  rigli~t  to  discharge  her  valet  without  paying  him," 

With  these  words  she  drew  a  purse  from  her  pocket  and  threw  it  at 
his  feet. 

A  loud  grating  laugh  was  the  reply.  He  set  his  foot  upon  the  purse, 
and  folding  his  arras,  contemplated  the  Countess  with  a  look  that  boded 
no  good  to  his  tormentor.  • 

"  You  do  not  go,  Count  Schulenberg  ?"  said  she. 

"  No — and  what  is  more  I  do  not  intend  to  go." 

"  Ah !"  cried  Margaret,  her  eyes  glowing  like  coals,  "you  are  dishon- 
orable enough  to  persist,  when  I  have  told  you  that  I  despise  you  !" 

"  My  charming  Margaret,  this  is  a  way  that  womet\  have  of  betraying 
thpir  love.  You  all  swear  that  you  despise  us;  all  the  while,  loving  us  to 
distraction.  You  and  I  have  gone  too  far  to  recede.  You,  because  you 
allowed  me  to  take  you  from  your  husband's  house ;  J,  because  I  gave 
in  to  your  rather  exacting  whims,  .and  came  to  Paris  as  your  valet.  But 
you  promised  to  reward  me,  and  I  must,  receive  my  wages." 

"  1  promised  when  we  should  reach  Paris  to  speak  the  truth,  Count 
Schulenberg ;  and  as  you  are  not  satisfied  with  as  much  as  I  have  vouch- 
safed, hear  the  whole  truth.  You  say  that  in  consenting  to  accompany 
you,  I  gave  a  proof  of  love.  Think  better  of  me,  sir !  Had  I  loved 
you,  I  might  have  died  for  you,  bat  never  would  I  have  allowed  you  to 
be  the  partner  of  my  disgrace.  You  have  shared  it  with  me  precisely 
because  I  despise  you,  precisely  because  there  was  no  man  on  earth 
whom  (  was  loss  likely  to  "love.     A3  the  partner  of  my  flight,  j  ou  have 


30  .       JOSEl'H  THE  SECOND. 

freed  me  from  the  shackles  of  a  detested  union,  to  rupture  which,  I  un- 
derwent the  farce  of  a  ravishment.  The  tyranny  of  Maria  Theresa  had 
compelled  me  to  marriage  with  a  wretch  who  succeeded  in  beguiling  me 
to  the  altar  by  a  lie.  1  swore  to  revenge  myself,  and  you  have  been 
the  instrument  of  ray  revenge.  The  woman  who  could  condescend  to 
leave  her  home  with  you,  is  so  doubly-dyed  in  disgrace  that  Count  Es- 
terhazy  can  no  longer  refuse  to  grant  her  a  divorce.  And  now  Count ' 
that  I  have  concealed  nothing,  oblige  me  by  leaving  me — 1  need  repose." 

"  No,  m}'  bewitching  Margaret,  a  thousand  times  no  !"  replied  the 
Count,  "  But  since  you  have  been  so  candid,  I  shall  imitate  your  charm* 
ing  frankness.  Your  beauty,  certainly,  is  quite  enough  to  madden  a 
man  and  embolden  him  to  woo  you,  since  all  Vienna  knows  how  the 
Countess  Esterhazy  hates  her  husband.  But  you  seemed  colder  to  me 
than  you  were  to  other  men,  all  of  whom  complained  that  you  had  no 
heart  to  win.  I  swore  not  to  be  foiled  by  your  severity,  and  thereupon 
my  frieuds-staked  a  large  wager  upon  the  result.  Fired  by  these  united 
considerations,  I  entered  upon  my  suit  and  was  successful.  You  gave 
me  very  little  trouble,  I  must  say  that  for  you.  Countess.  Thanks  to 
your  clemency,  I  have  won  my  bet,  and  on  my  return  to  Vienna,  1  am 
to  receive  one  thousand  louis  d'ors." 

"  I  am  delighted  to  hear  it,  and  I  advise  you  to  go  after  them  with  all 
speed,"  replied  the  Countess  quietly. 

"Pardon  me  if  I  reject  the  advice — for,  as  I  told  you  before,  1  really 
love  you.  You  have  thrown  yourself  into  my  arms,  and  1  would  be  a 
fool  not  to  keep  you  there.  No,  my  enchantress,  no !  Give  up  all  hope 
of  escaping  from  the  fvte  you  have  chosen  for  yourself.  Eor  my  sake 
you  have  branded  your  fair  fame  forever,  and  you  shall  be  rewarded  for 
the  sacrifice." 

"Wretch,"  cried  she,  drawing  herself  proudly  up  to  her  full  height, 
■"  you  well  know  that  you  had  no  share  in  the  motives  of  my  flight ! 
Its  shame  is  mine  alone,  and  alone  will  I  bear  it.  To  you  I  leave  the 
ridicule  of  our  adventure,  for  if  you  do  not  quit  my  room,  I  shall  take 
care  that  all  Vienna  hears  hov-r  1  took  you  to  Paris  as  my  valet." 

"And  I,  Countess  Esterhazy,  shall  entertain  all  Vienna  with  the  con- 
tents of  your  Album,  which  1  have  not  only  taken  the  liberty  to  read, 
but  to  appropriate." 

The  Countess  gaye  a  start.  "  True,"  murmured  she,  "  I  have  missed 
it  since  yesterday." 

"Yes,  and  I  have  it.  I  think  a  lover  has  a  right  to  his  mistress's  se- 
crets, and  I  have  made  use  of  my  right.  I  have  been  reading  your  hea- 
venly verses  to  the  object  of  your  unhappy  attachment,  and  all  Vienna 
shall  hear  them.  What  delicious  scandal  it  will  be  to  tell  how  despe- 
rately in  love  is  the  Countess  Esterhazy  with  the  son  of  her  gracious 
and  imperial  godmother." 

"  Tell  it  then,"  cried  Margaret,  "  tell  it  if  you  will,  for  I  do  love  the 
Emperor!  My  heart  bows  down  before  him  in  idolatrous  admiration, 
and  if  he  loved  me,  I  would  not  envy  the  angels  their  heaven  !     He  does 


MARIE  AxNTOlNETfE.  31 

not  return  my  love — nor  do  I  need  that  return  to  make  me  cherish  and 
foster  my  passion  for  him.  No  scorn  of  the  world  can  lessen  it,  for  it 
is  my  pride,  my  religion,  my  life  !  And  now  go  and  repeat  my  words, 
but  beware  of  me,  Count  Schnlenberg,  for  I  will  have  revenge  !'' 

"From  such  fair  hands,  revenge  would  fall  quite  harmless,"'  exclaim- 
ed the  Count,  dazzled  by  the  splendor  of  Margaret's  transcendent  beau- 
ty, for  never  in  her  life  had  she  looked  lovelier  than  at  tnat  moment. 
"Revenge  yourself  if  you  will,  enchantress,  but  mine  you  are  doomed 
to  be.     Come,  then,  come  !" 

Once  more  he  approached,  when  the  door  was  flung  violently  open, 
and  a  loud,  commanding  voice  was  heard. 

"I  forbid  you  to  lay  a  finger  upon  the  Countess  Esterhazy,"  e."?claim- 
ed  the  Emperor. 

Margaret  uttered  a  loud  cry,  the  color  forsook  her  cheeks,  and  clos- 
ing her  eyes,  she  fell  back  upon  the  sofa. 


CHAPTER   IX. 

THE  PARTING. 

The  Emperor  hastened  to  her  assistance,  but  finding  her  totally  in- 
sensible,  he  laid  her  gently  down  again. 

"  She  is  unconscious,"  said  he ;  "  kind  nature  has  lulled  her  to  insen- 
sibility— she  will  recover."  Then  taking  the  veil  from  the  Countess's 
hat,  he  covered  her  face,  and  turned  towards  the  terrified  Count  who, 
trembling  in  every  limb,  was  powerless  to  save  himself  by  flight. 

"  Give  me  the  Countess's  Album  !"  said  the  Emperor  sternly.  Count 
Schulenberg  drew  it  mechanically  forth,  and  with  tottering  steps  advan- 
ced and  fell  at  the  Emperor's  feet. 

Joseph  tore  the  book  from  his  hands  and  laid  it  on  the  sofa  by  the 
Countess.  Then  returning,  he  cried  out  in  a  tone  of  indignation,  "  Rise  ! 
You  have  behaved  towards  this  woman  like  a  dishonorable  wretch,  and 
you  are  unworthy  the  name  of  nobleman.  You  shall  be  punished  for 
your  crimes."  , 

"  Mercy,  sire,  mercy,"  faltered  the  Count.     "  Mercy  for  a  fault  whiq^ 

"  Peace !"  interrupted  Joseph.  "  The  Empress  has  already  sent  a 
courier  to  order  your  arrest.  Do  you  know  what  is  the  punishment  in 
Austria  for  a  man  who  flies  with  a  married  woman  from  the  house  of  her 
husband?" 

"  The  punishment  of  death  "  murmured  the  Count  inaudibly.     "  Yes, 


32  JOSEPH  THE  SECOND. 

for  it  is  a,  crime  that  equals  murder,"  returned  the  Emperor,  "  indeed  it 
transcends  murder,  for  it  loses  the  soul  of  the  unhappy  woman,  and 
brands  her  husband  with  infamy." 

'"  Mercy,  mercy,"  prayed  the  wretch, 

"  No,"  said  Joseph  sternly,  "  you  deserve  no  mercy.     Follow  me  !" 

The  Emperor  returned  to  his  own  room,  and  opening  the  door  that  led 
to  the  ante-room  he  called  Giinther. 

When  the  valet  appeared,  Joseph  pointe(^  to  the  Count,  who  was  ad- 
vancing slowly,  and  now  stopped  without  daring  to  raise  his  head. 

"  Giinther,"  said  the  Emperor,  "  I  give  this  man  in  charge  to  you.  I 
might  require  him  on  his  honor  not  to  leave  this  room  until  I  return,  but 
no  man  can  pledge  that  which  he  does  not  possess ;  I  must  therefore  leave 
him  to.  you.     See  that  he  does  not  make  his  escape." 

The  Emperor  then  re-crossed  his  own  room,  and  closing  the  door  be- 
hind him,  entered  the  apartment  of  the  Countess.'  She  had  revived ; 
and  was  looking  around  with  an  absent  dreamy  expression. 

"  I  have  been  sleeping,"  murmured  she.  "  I  saw  the  Emperor,  I  felt 
his  arm  around  me,  1  dreamed  that  he  was  bending  over  me " 

"  It  was  no  dream.  Countess  Esterhazy,"  said  Joseph  softly. 

She  started,  and  rose  from  the  sofa,  her  whole  frame  tremulous  with 
emotion.  Her  large,  glowing  eyes  seemed  to  be  searching  for  the  object 
of  her  terror,  and  then  her  glance  rested  with  inexpressible  fear  upon  the 
door  which  led  into  the  Emperor's  room. 

"  You  were  there,  sire,  and  heard  all — all "?"  Stammered  she,  point- 
ing with  her  hand. 

'•  Yes — God  be  praised  I  was  there,  and  I  am  now  acquainted  with  the 
motives  which  prompted  your  flight  from  Count  Esterhazy.  I  undertake 
your  defence,  Countess  ;  my  voice  shall  silence  your  accusers  in  Vienna, 
and  if  it  become  necessary  to  your  justification,  I  will  relate  what  I  have 
overheard.  I  cannot  blame  you,  for  I  know  the  unspeakable  misery  of 
a  marriage  without  love,  and  I  comprehend  that  to  break  its  fetters,  you 
were  ready  to  brave  disgrace,  and  to  wear  upon  your  spotless  brow  the 
badge  of  dishonor.  The  Empress  must  know  what  you  have  undergone, 
and  she  shall  re-instate  you  in  the  world's  estimation,  for  she  it  is  who 
has  caused  your  unhappiness.  My  mother  is  too  magnanimous  to  refuse 
reparation  where  she  has  erred." 

"  Sire,"  whispered  the  Countess  while  a  deep  blush  overspread  her 
face,  "  do  you  mean  to  confide  all — all  to  the  Empress  ?" 

"  All  that  concerns  your  relations  with  your  husband  and  with  Count 
Schulenberg.  Pardon  me  that  I  overheard  the  .sweet  confession  which 
was  wrung  from  you  by  despair !  Never  will  I  betray  it  to  living  mor- 
tal; it  shall  be  treasured  in  the  depths  of  my  heart,  and  sometimes  at 
midnight  hour  I  may  be  permitted  to  remember  it ! — Come'back  to 
Vienna,  Countess,  and  let  us  seek  to  console  each  other  for  the  agony  of 
the  past!" 

- "  No,  Sire,"  said  she  mournfully,  "  I  shall  never  return  to  Vienna ;  I 
should  be  ashamed  to  meet  your  Majestv's  eye."  » 


MAIiJE  ANTOINETTE.  3o 

"Have  you  grown  so  faint-hearted?"  said  the  Emperor  gently.  'Arc 
you  suddenly  ashamer]  of  a  feeliug  wfaich  _>ou  so  nobly  avowed  but  a  few 
tnoments  since?  *  Or  am  1  the  only  man  on  earth  who  is  unworthy  to 
know  it?" 

"Sire,  the  judgment'of  the  world  is  nothing  to  nie.  it  is  irom'7/onr 
contempt  that  1  would  fly  and  be  forgotten.  Let  other  men  judge  me 
as  they  will — I  care  not..  But  oh  !  J  know  that  you  despise  me  and 
thai  knowledge  is  breaking  my  heart.     Farewell  then,  forever." 

The  Emperor  contemplated  her  with  mournful  sympathy,  and  took 
both  her  hands  in  his.  8he  pressed  tjiem  to  her  lips,  and  when  she  rais- 
ed her  head,  her  timidity  had  given  place  to  strong  resolution. 

"I  shall  never  see  your  Majesty  again,"  said  she,  "  but  your  image 
will  be  with  me  wherever  I  go.  J  hope  for  great  deeds  from  you.  and 
I  know  that,  you  will  not  deceive  me,  sire.  When  all  Europe  shall  re- 
sound with  your  fame,  then  will  1  be  happy,  for  my  being  is  merged  in 
yours.  At  this  moment,  when  we  part  to  meet  no  more,  I  say  again 
with  joyful  courage,  I  love  you.  May  the  blessing  nf  that  love  rest 
upon  your  noble  head.  Give  me  your  hand  once  more  and  then  leave 
me."     , 

"Farewell,  Margaret,"  filtered  the  Emperor,  intoxic;ited  by  her  ten- 
der avowal,  and  opening  his  arms,  he  added  in  passionate  tones,  "  come 
to  my  heart,  and  let  me,  for  one  blissful  moment,  feel  the  beatings  of 
yours !     Come,  oh  come !"' 

Margaret  leaned  her  head  upon  his  shoulder  and  wept,  while  the  Em- 
peror besought  her  to  relent  and  return  to  Vienna  with  him. 

"  No,  sire,"  replied  she  firmly.     "  Farewell !" 

He  echoed  "  farewell,"  and  hastily  left  the  room. 

When  the  door  had  closed  upon  him,  the  Countess  covered  her  face 
■with  her  hands  and  sobbed  aloud.     But  this  was  for  a  moment  only. 

Her  pale  face  resumed  Its  haughty  expression  as  she  rose  from  her 
seat  and  hastily  pulled  the  bell-rope.  A  few  minutes  later,  she  unbol- 
ted the  door,  and  Madame  Dupont  entered  the  room. 

"My  good  friend,"  said  the  Countess,  "  we  leave  Paris  to-night." 

"Alone?"  asked  the  maid,  lookmg  around. 

"  Yes,  rejoice  with  me,  we  are  rid  of  him  forever.  But  we  must  leave 
this  place  at  once.     Go  and  order  post-horses." 

"  But,  dear  lady,  whither  do  we  journey  ?" 

*'  Whither  ?"  echoed  Margaret,  thoughtfully.  "  Let  the  will  of  God 
decide.     Who  can  say  from  whence  we  come,  or  whither  we  go  ?" 

The  faithful  servant  hastened  to  her  mistress,  and  taking  the  hand  of 
the  Countess  in  hers,  pressed  it  to  her  lips,  f  Oh,  my  lady,"  said  she, 
*'  shake  off  this  lethargy — be  your  own  brave  self  again." 

"  You  are  right,  Dupont,"  returned  Margaret,  shaking  back  her  long 
black  hair,  which  had  become  unfastened  and  fell  almost  to  her  feet,  "  I 
must  control  rny  grief  that  I  may  act  for  myself.  From  this  day  I  am 
■without  pr©tector,  kindred  of  home.  Let  us  journey  to  the  Holy  Land, 
"'Dupont.    Perchance  1  may  find  conwlation  bv  the  grave  of  the  Saviour.'" 


34  JOSEPH  THE  SECOND. 

One  hour  later  the  Emperor,  sitting  at  his  window,  heard  a  carriage 
leave  the  Hotel  Turenne.  He  followed  the  sound  until  it  was  lost  in 
the  distance;  for  well  he  knew  that  the  occupant  of  that  coach  was  the 
ben.utiful  and  unfortunate  Countess  Esterhazy. 

Early  on  the  following  morning,  another  carriage  with  blinds  drawn, 
up,  left  the  hotel.  It  stopped  before  the  Austrian  Embassy,  and  the  valet 
o^f  the  Emperor  sprang  out.  He  signified  to  the  porter  that  he  was  to 
keep  a  strict  w\atch  over  the  gentlemen  within,  and  then  sought  the  jore- 
scnce  of  Count  Von  jMercy. 

A  quarter  of  an  hour  went  by,  during  which  ihe  porter  had  been  peer- 
ing curiou!=ly  at  the  pale  face  which  was  staring  at  the  windows  of  the 
hotel.  Presently  a  secretary  and  a  servant  of  the  ambassador  came  out 
equipped  for  a  journey.  The  secretary  entered  the  carriage  ;  the  servant 
mounted  the  box,  and  Count  Schulenberg  was  transported  a  prisoner  to 
Vienna.* 


CHAPTER  X. 

JOSEPH  AKD  LOUIS. 

T^E  Emperor  was  right  when  he  said  that  his  sister  would  derive  lit- 
tle pleasure  from  his  visit  to  Paris.  Her  happiness  in  his  society  had 
been  of  short  duration,  for  she  could  not  but  be  sensible  of  the  growing 
dislike  of  the  King  for  his  imperial  brother-in-law.  Joseph's  easy  and 
graceful  manners  were  in  humiliating  contrast  to  the  stiff  and  awkward 
bearing  of  Louis ;  and  finally  Marie  Antoinette  felt  many  a  pang  as  she 
watched  the  glances  of  aversion  which  her  husband  cast  upon  her  bro- 
ther, at  such  times  as  the  latter  made  light  c/f  the  thousand  and  one  ce- 
remonies which  were  held  so  sacred  by  the  royal  family  in  France. 

The  King,  who  in  his  heart  had  been  sorely  galled  by  the  fetters  of 
French  etiquette,  now  that  the  Emperor  ridiculed  it,  became  its  warm- 
est partisan,  and  went  so  far  as  to  reprove  his  wife  for  following  her 
brother's  example,  and  sacrificing  her  royal  dignity  to  an  absurd  long- 
ing for  popularity. 

The  truth  was  that  Louis  was  envious  of  the  enthusiasm  which  Jo- 
seph excited  among  the  Parisians;  and  his  brothers,  the  other  members 
of  the  royal  family,  and  his  ministers,  took  every  opportunity  of  feed- 
ing his  envy  by  representing  that  the  Emperor  was  doing  his  utmost  to 
alienate  the  affections  of  the  French  from  their  rightful  sovereign ;  that 

♦OKiint  Schulenbers  was  sentencerl  to  death,  and  Maria  Theresa,  who  was  inexorable  where  a 
brf'ach  of  morals  was  concerned,  approved  the  sentence.  But  Count  Esterhazy  hastened  to  inter- 
cede for  his  rival,  acknowledging  at  last  that  Schulenberg  had  freed  hlin  from  a  tie  which  was  a 


MAUlJi  ANT^H^E■rrE.  35 

he  was  meditating  the  seizure  of  Alsatia  and  Lorraine ;  that  he  was  seek- 
ing to  re-instate  de  Choiseul,  and  convert  France  into  a  luere  dependen- 
cy upon  Austria. 

Louis,  who  had  l)egun  to  regard  his  wife  with  passionate  admiration, 
became  cold  and  sarcastic  in  his  demeanor  towards  her.  The  hours 
which,  until  the  Emperor's  arrival  in  Paris,  he  had  spent  with  Marie 
Antoinette,  were  now  dedicated  to  his  Ministers,  to  Madame  Adelaide, 
and  even  to  the  Count  de  Provence — that  brother  whose  enmity  to  the 
Queen  was  not  even  concealed  under  a  veil,  nf  courtly  dissimulaiion. 

Not  satisfied  with  (illinir  the  King's  ears  with  calumnies  of  his  poor 
young  wife,  the  Count  of  Provence  was  the  instigator  of  ;ill  ihost.'  scan- 
dalous songs  in  which  the  Emperor  and  the  (^ueen  were  daily  ridiculed 
on  the  Pont-Neuf,  and  of  the  multifarious  Caricatures  which,  hour  by 
hour,  were  rendering  Marie  Ant<jinette  odious  in  the  eyes  of  her  sub- 
jects. The  Count  of  Provence,  who  afterwards  wore  his  murdered  bro- 
ther's crown,  was  the  first  to  teach  the  French  nation  that  odious  epithet 
of  '■'■  V Autrichienne,^''  with  which  they  hooted  the  Queen  of  France  to  an 
ignominious  death  upon  the  scallbld. 

The  momentary  joy  which  the  visit  of  the  Emperor  had  caused  to  his 
sister  had  vanished,  and  given  place  to  embarrassment  and  anxiety  of 
heart.  Even  she  felt  vexed  not  onl}'  that  her  subjects  preferred  a  fo- 
reign prince  to  their  own  rightful  sovereign,  but  that  Joseph  was  so  un- 
restrained in  his  sarcasms  upon  royal  customs  in  France.  Finally  she 
was  obliged  to  confess  in  the  silence  of  her  own  heart,  that  her  brother's 
departure  would  be  a  relief  to  her,  and  that  these  dinners  en  famille  to 
•which  he  came  daily  as  a  guest,  were  inexpressibly  tedious  and  heavy. 

One  day  the  Emperor  came  earlier  than  usual  to  dinner;  so  early  in 
fact  that  the  King  was  still  occupied  holding  his  daily  levee. 

Joseph  seated  himself  quietly  in  the  ante-room  to  await  his  turn.  At 
first  no  one  had  remarked  his  entrance,  but  presently  he  was  recognized 
by  one  of  the  Marshals  of  the  household,  who  hastened  to  his  side,  and 
apologising,  oflered  to  inform  the  King  at  once  of  Count  Falkenstein's 
presence  there. 

"By  no  means,"  returned  the  Eraperor,  "I  am  quite  accustomed  to 
this  sort  of  thing.  I  do  it  every  morning  in  my  mother's  ante-room  at 
Vienna."* 

Just  then  the  door  opened,  and  the  King,  who  had  been  apprised  of 
the  Emperor's  arrival,  came  forward  tq  greet  him. 

"  We  were  not  aware  that  we  had  so  distinguished  a  guest  in  our  ante- 
room," said  Louis,  bowing.  "  But  come,  my  larother,"  continued  he  cor- 
dially, "the  weather  is  beautiful.  Let  us  stroll  together  in  the  gardens. 
Give  me  your  arm." 

But  Josfeph  pointing  to  the  crowd,  replied,  "pardon  me  your  Majesty, 
it  is  not  yet  ray  turn,  and  I  shoidd  be  sorry  to  interrupt  you  in  your 
duties  as  a  sovereign." 

Louis  frowned,  and  all  traces  of  cordiality  vanishefl  from  his  face.   **  I 

♦  Memoirep  de  'S^'ebcr     Vol   i .    V  4$.       , 


36  JOSEPH  THE  SECOND. 

will  receive  tjiese  gentlemen  to  morrow,"  said  he  with  a  slight  nod  to 
his  courtiers,  and  they,  comprehending  that  they  were  dismissed,  took 
their  leave. 

"Now  Count,"  pursued  the  King,  trying  to  smile,  but  scarcely  suc- 
ceeding in  doing  so,  "  we  are  at  liberty." 

So  saying,  he  bowed,  but  did  not  repeat  the  ofTer  of  his  arm  ;  he  walk- 
ed by  the  Emperor's  side.  The  usher  threw  open  the  doors,  crying  out 
in  a  loud  voice, 

"The  King  is  about  to  lake  a  walk!" 

"  The  King  is  about  to  take  a  walk,"  was  echoed  from  point  fo  point ; 
and  now  from  every  side  of  the  palace  came  courtiers  and  gentlemen  in 
waiting,  to  attend  their  sovereign,  w  hilo  outside  on  the  terrace  the  blast 
of  trumpets  was  heard,  so  that  every  budy  in  Versailles  was  made  aware 
that  the  King  was  about  to  take  a  turn  in  his  gardens,  and  his  anxious 
subjects,  if  so  disposed,  might  pray  for  his  safe  return. 

The  Emperpr  looked  on  and  listened  with  an  amused  smile,  highly 
diverted  at  the  avalanche  of  courtiers  that  came  rn^shing  upon  them  from 
corridor  and  staircase.  Meanwhile  the  Sovereigns  pursued  their  way 
in  solemn  silence  until  the  brilliant  throng  had  descended  the  marble 
stairs  that  led  from  the  terrace  to  the  gardens.  Then  came  another 
flourish  of  trumpets,  one  hundred  Swiss  saluted  the  King,  and  twelve 
gardes  de  corps  advanced  to  take  their  places  close  to  the  royal  prome- 
naders. 

"  Sire,"  asked  Joseph,  stopping,  "  are  all  these  people  to  accompany 
us?" 

','  Certainly,  Count,"  replied  Louis,  "  this  attendance  upon  me  when  I 
walk  is  prescribed  by  court-etiquette." 

"  My  dear  brother,  allow  me  to  say  that  it  gives  us  much  more  the 
appearance  of  State-prisoners  than  of  free  Sovereigns  enjoying  the  fresh 
air.  In  presence  of  God  let  us  be  simple  men — our  hearts  will  be  more 
apt  to  be  elevated  by  the  sight  of  the  beauties  of  nature.,  than  if  we  go 
surrounded  by  all  this  'pomp  and  circumstance'  of  royalty." 

"You  wish  to  go  without  attendants?"  asked  Louis. 

"  I  ask  of  your  Majesty  as  a  favor  to  let  me  act  as  body-guard  to  the 
King  of  France  to-day.  I  promise  to  serve  you  faithfully  in  that  capa- 
city— moreover  have  we  not  this  brilliant  suite  of  noblemen  to  defend 
us  in  case  of  danger?" 

The  King  made  no  reply.  He  merely  turned  to  the  Captain  of  the 
Swiss  guard  to  inform  him  that  their  Majesties  would  dispense  with  mi- 
litary escort.  The  officer  was  so  astounded  that  he  actually  forgot  to 
make  his  salute. 

At  the  gate  of  the  park  the  King  also  dismissed  the  gardes  de  corps. 
These  were  quite  as  astonished  as  the  Swiss  had  been  before  them,>for 
never  until  that  day  had  a  King  of  France  taken  a  walk  in  his  gardens 
without  one  hundred  Swiss  and  twelve  body-guards.'"* 

*nubner.    I.    P.  14S. 


.VlAKlf.    ANTOINKITK.  ,  .' j  7 


CHAPTER  XI. 

TFIE  TROMKr^ADE  AND  THE  EPIGUA^r. 

The  royal  l)rothers-in-law  then  where  allowed  to  promenade,  alone  ; 
that  is  to  say,  they  were  attended  by  twenty  courtiers,  whose  inestima- 
ble privilege  it  was  to  follow  the  King  wherever  he  went. 

"It  is  not  then  the  custom  in  Austria  for  princes  to  appear  in  public 
wiih  their  escort  1"  asked  the  King  after  a  long  pause. 

"  Oh,  yes,  we  have  our  body-gup.rds  but  they  are  the  people  them- 
selves, and  we  feel  perfectly  secuie  in  their  escurt.  You  should  try  this 
body-guard,  sire;  it  is  more  economical  than  yours,  for  its  service  is  ren- 
dered for  pure  love." 

"  Certainly,"  replied  the  King  carelessly,  "  it  is  a  very  cheap  way  of 
courting  popularity,  but  the  price  would  be  too  dear  for  a  Kiwj;  of  France 
to  pa} — he  cannot  aflbrd  to  sell  his  dignity  for  such  small  return." 

The  Kmperor  raised  his  large  blue  eyes  and  looked  full  in  the  King's 
ftice,  "  \h>  you  really  think,"  he  said  "  that  a  King  compromises  his 
dignity  by  contact  with  his  subjects  ?  Do  you  think  that  to  be  honored 
by  your  people  you  must  be  forever  reminriing  them  of  your  'right  di 
vine  V  1,  on  the  contrary  believe  that  the  sovereign  who  shows  himself 
to  be  a  man,  is  the  one  who  will  be  most  sincerely  loved  by  the  men 
whom  he  governs.  We  are  apt  to  become  dazzled  by  the  glare  of  flat- 
tery, sire,  and  it  is  well  for  us  sometimes  to  throw  oif  our  grandeur  and 
mix  among  our  fellows.  There  we  will  soon  lind  out  that  Miijesty  is 
not  written  upon  the  face  of  Kings,  but  resides  in  the  purple,  wliich  is 
the  woric  of  the  tailor  and  the  crown  which  is  that  of  the  goldsmith.  I 
learned  this  not  long  ago  from  a  shoemaker's  apprentice." 

"  From  a  shoemaker's  apprentice  !"  exclaimed  Louis  with  a  supercili- 
ous smile.  "  Jt  would  be  highly  edifying  to  hear  from  the  Count  of  Fal- 
kenstein  how  it  happened  that  the  Emperor  of  Austria  was  taught  the 
nothingness  of  royalty  by  a  shoemaker's  lad  !"  "     . 

"  It  came  quite  naturally,  sire.  1  was  out  driving  in  a  plain  cabriolet 
when  I  remarked  the  boy,  who  was  singing,  and  otherwise  exei^pising  his 
animal  spirits  by  hopping,  dancing  and  running  along  the  road  bv  the 
side  of  my  vehicle.  J  was  much  diverted  by  his  drollery,  and  finally 
invited  him  to  take  a  drive  with  me.  Tie  jumped  in  without  awaiting 
a  second  invitation,  stared  wonderfully  at  me  with  his  great  brown  eyes, 
and  in  high  satisfaction  kicked  his  feet  against  the  dashboard,  and  watch- 
ed the  motion  of  the  wheels.  Now  and,  then  he  vented  his  delight  by  a 
broad  smile,  in  which  I  could  detect  no  trace  o^  a  suspicion  as  to  ipy 
rank  or  majesty.     Finally  I  resolved   to  find  out  -what  place  I  occupied 


38  ,  i<>>Kl'H    IHh  sKrnM> 

in  ilu'  (.•sLiiT..'iiion  of  at\  unfledged  shoemaker,  so  I  quftslioned  him  on  tho 
subject.  He  contemplated  me  for  a  moment  and  then  said,  '•  Perhapfi 
you  might  be  nn  equerry.  'Guess  higher,'  replied  I.  '  W«;||,  a  Counti' 
—  I  shook  my  head.  'Still  hij'lier' — *A  I'rince?' — 'Higher  yet;' — 
'  Well  then  yuu  must  he.  the  Kmperor.' — 'You  have  ^uessed,'  said  I. 
fnstead  of  l>eii)jf  overrome  by  the  communication,  the  buy  sprang  from 
the  cabriolet,  ;ind  pointiii';  at  me  with  njitllc  linger  that  was  lull  (.f  scorn 
and  dirt,  lie  cri^d  out  to  the  pu'-<;ers  by,  'only  look  at  hiin,  he  is  trvin^ 
to  pa-«s  himsi;lf  clffor  the  Emptror  !'"* 

Louis  had  listened  lo  this  ncital  with  gravo  composure,  and  as  his  face 
had  not  once  rehixed  from  its  solemnity,  the  faces  of  his  courtiers  all 
wore  a  similar  expression.  As  Joseph  looked  around  he  saw  a  row  of 
blank  countenances. 

Thcrr;  was  an  awkward  pause.  Finally  the  King  observed  that  he 
could  not  see  anythinr;  diverting  in  the  insolenco  of  the  bc»y. 

"  1  assure  your  Majesty,"  replied  the  Emperor,  "  that  it  was  far  more 
pleai-iiug  to  me  than  thesubserviance  of  a  multitude  of  fawning  courtiers." 
He  glanced  sharply  at  the  gentlemen  of  their  suite,  who  knit  their  brows 
in  return. 

"  Let  us  quicken  our  pace  if  it  be  agreeable  to  you.  Cotmt,"  said  Louis, 
with  son)h  embarrassfment.  The  attendants  fell  back  and  the  tMo  mon- 
archs  walked  on  for  some  moments  in  silence.  The  King  was  wonder- 
ing how  he  should  manage  lo  renew  the  conversation,  when  suddenly, 
hiB  voice  tremulous  wiih  emotion,  Joseph  addressed  him. 

''  My  brother,"  said  he,  "  accident  at  last  has  favored  me,  and  I  may 
speak  lo  vou  for  once,  without  witnesses.  Tell  me  then,  why  do  you 
bate  me  ?"' 

•■  My  brother,"  exclaimed  Louis,  "  who  has  dared " 

'•No  one  has  iiuimated  such  a  thing,"  returned  .Foseph  vehemently, 
"but  1  see  it,  1  feel  it  in  every  look  of  your  Majesty's  eyes,  every  word 
that  falls  from' your  lips.  Acjain  1  ask,  why  d<>  y^n  hate  me?  I  who 
canic  hither  to  visit  >ou  aa  friend  and  brother! — Or  do  you  believe  the 
idle  rumors  of  your  convtierff,'  that  1  came  to  rob  aught  besides  the  heart 
«if  the  King  of  France? — I  Icnow  that  I  have  been  represented  as  un- 
scrupulous in  my  ambition,  but  I  entreat  of  you,  dear  brother,  think  bet- 
ter of  me.  I  will  be  frank  with  you  and  confess  that  I  do  seek  for  ag- 
grandizement, but  not  at  the  expense  of  my  allies  or  friends.  I  strive 
to  enlarge  my  territory,  but  I  shall  claim  nothing  that  is  not  righteously 
iny  own.  Thcr(!  are  p;  ovinces  in  Germa.iy  which  are  mine  by  right  of 
iuheritance.  others  i)y  the  right  which  Frederic  used  when  he  took  iSilesia 
from  the  crown  of  Au-tria." 

"  Or  that  which  .l.>>»'ph  used  when  he  took  Galicia  fron\  the  King  of 
Poland,"  interrupted  Louis,  significantly. 

"  Sire,  we  did  not  take  Galicia.  It  fell  to  us  through  the  weakness  of 
Poland,  and  by  reason  of  exigencies  arising  from  an  alliance  between  the 
three  po^iyers.  My  claim  to  Bavaria  however,  is  of  another  nature.  It 
•  Cli»roeU'ri«»1cf  n»>(1  An*rdot-<  of  .Toscpb  II,  and  h's  Vme».    V.  105. 


MAKIK   ANTOINKITK.  ;^!) 

is  mine  by  inheritance — the  more  so  that  the  Elector  ofZweYbriipkon,  the 
successor  of  the  Elector  ot  Davaria,  is  willing  to  conce.fle  nie  my  right  to 
that  province.  The  navarians  themselves  long  for  annexation  to  Aus- 
tiia.  for  they  know  that  it  is  their  only  road  to  prosperity.  They  look 
with  hope  and  confidence  to  Maria  Theresa,  whose  goodness  and  great- 
ness may  compensate  them  for  all  that  they  have  endured  at  the  liands 
of  their  pusillanimous  little  rulpr.s.  The  only  man  in  (icrmany  who  will 
oppose  the  succession  of  Austria  to  Bavaria,  i.s  Frederic  who  is  as  rcad^' 
to  enlarge  his  own  domains  as  to  cry  '  Stop  Thief !'  when  he  sees  others 
doit(g  likewise.  But  he  will  not  raise  his  single  voice  unless  he  receive 
encouragement  from  other  powers.  If  my  visit  to  France  has  any  po- 
litical significance,  it  is  to  obtain  your  Majesty's  recognition  of  my  right 
to  Bavaria.  Yes,  sire,  I  do  wish  to  convince  you  of  the  justice  of  my 
claim,  and  to  obtain  from  you  the  promise  of  neutrality  when  1  shall  be 
ready  to  assert  it.  You  see  that  I  speak  without  reserve,  and  confide  to 
you  plans  which  heretofore  have  been  discussed  in  secret  council  at  Vi- 
enna aU»ne." 

''And  I  pledge  my  royal  word  never  to  betray  your  Majesty's  confi- 
dence to  living  mortal,"  replied  Louis,  with  undisguised  embarrassment 
and  anxiety.  "  Believe  me  when  I  say  that  every  thing  you  have  spo- 
ken is  as  though  1  had  never  heard  it.  I  shall  bury  it  within  the  recess- 
es of  my  own  heart,  and  there  it  shall  remain." 

The  Emperor  surveyed  his  brother-in-law  with  a  glance  of  mistrust. 
He  thought  that  the  a.^surance  of  his  secresy  was  given  in  singular  lan- 
guage. He  was  not  altogether  satisfied  to  hear  that  what  he  had  been 
.saying  was  to  be  treated  as  though  it  had  never  been  said  at  all. 

"  Will  your  Majesty  then  sustain  me]"  asked  he  of  Louis.  Th's  di- 
rect question  staggered  his  Majesty  of  France.  He  scarcely  knew  what 
he  was  saying.  '*  Ymi  ask  this  question,"  replied  he  w-ith  a  forced  smile, 
*'  as  if  the  Elector  were  dead,  and  our  decision  were  imperative.  Fortu- 
nately his  Highness  of  Bavaria  is  in  excellent  health  ami  the  discussion 

may  be deferred.     Let  us  think  of  the  present.     Yon  were  wise,  my 

dear  brother,  whrn  you  remarked  that  the  beauties  of  nature  were  cal- 
culated to  elevate  our  minds.  What  royalty  can  be  compared  to 
hers  !" 

The  Emperor  made  no  reply.  He  felt  the  full  significance  of  the  Kinc's 
ungracious  words,  and  more  than  ever  he  was  convinced  th»t  Louis  re- 
garded him  with  dislike  and  ill-will.  Again  there  was  painful  silence 
between  the  two,  and  every  moment  it  weighed  more  heavilv  upon 
both. 

At  last  Louis,  awaking  to  a  sense  of  what  was  due  from  host  to  guest, 
made  a  desperate  resoUuion  and  spoke. 

"Have  you  made  any  plans  for  this  evening,  my  brother?"  askcJ  he 
timidly. 

"  No  !"  was  the  curt  reply. 

""iou  would  be  very  amiable,  if.  instead  of  visiting  the  theatres,  you 
would  join  the  Queen  in. a  game  <-.f  card!'." 


40  Jij:~>KVH    nih.  SLX:UiNl> 

"  I  never  play,"  returned  Joseph.  "  A.  toonavch  who  loses  money  at 
cards,  loses  the  property  of  his  subjects."* 

"Since  you  do  not  like  cards,  we  have  other  recreations  at  hand. 
How  vvoujd  you  relish  a  hunt  in  the  woods  of  Mendon  '?" 

"  Noc  at  all,"  said  Joseph.  "  Hunting  is  no  recreation  for  a  monarch. 
His  time  is  too  precious  to  be  frittered  away  in  such  idle  sport." 

"  Ah,"  said  Louis,  whose  patience  was  exhausted,  "  you  imitate  your 
old  enemy,  the  King  of  Prussia,  who  for  twenty  years  has  been  crying 
out  against  the  sins  of  hunting  and  gambling." 

The  Emperor's  face  grew  scarlet,  and  his  eyes  flashed.  "Sire,"  re- 
plied he,  '•  allow  me  to  observe  to  you  that  1  imitate  nobody,  and  that 
I  am  resolved  now  as  ever  to  conduct  myself  as  [  see  fit." 

To  th*?,  the  King  bowed  in  silence.  He  was  so  weary  of  his  walk 
that  he  led  the  way  to  a  road  by  which  a  short  cut  might  be  made  to 
the  palace.  This  road  was  crossed  by  an  avenue  of  trees  which  border- 
ed a  large  iron  gate  leading  to  the  front  entrance  of  the  palace.  Plere 
the  people  were  accustomed  to  assemble  to  obtain  a  view  of  their  sovJ 
ereigns,  and  to-dciy  the  throng  was  greater  than  usual,  for  they  had  learn- 
ed from  the  Swiss  Guard  that  the  two  mcnarchs  were  out  together,  and 
thousands  of  eager  eyes  were  watching  for  the  glittering  uniforms  of  the- 
gardes  de  corps. 

Great  was  their  astonishment  to  see  two  individuals  alone,  apparently 
independent  of  the  courtiers  at  some  distance  behind  them. 

"  Who  could  they  be — these  two  gentlemen  advancing  together? 
Certainly  not  the  Em|)eror  and  the  King,  for  the  latter  never  tooic  a  step 
Without  his  lifeguards." 

'•  But  it  is  the  Emperor  !"  cried  a  voice  in  the  crowd.  "  I  know  his 
handsome  face,  and  his  dark  blue  eyes." 

"  And  the  other  is  the  King  !"  exclaimed  another  voice. 

"  It  cannot  be,"  said  a  third.  "  The  King  of  France  never  moves  in 
his  own  palace  without  a  wall  of  guards  around  him — how  much  less  in 
the  open  parks  where  he  is  exposed  to  the  danger  of  meeting  his  sub- 
jects!" 

"1  suppose  we  are  indebted  to  the  Emperor  for  this  bold  act  of  his 
Majesty  today,"  said  another  critic. 

'•  Yes,  yes,  he  it  is  who  has  persuaded  the  King  to  trust  us,"  cried  the 
multitude,  ■'  let  us  thank  him  by  a  hearty  welcome." 

The  two  Princes  were  now  quite  near,  and  the  crowd  took  oflf  their 
hats.  The  Emperor  greeted  them  with  an  affable  smile,  the  King  with 
several  nods  but  without  a  shadow  of  cordiality.  Suddenly  the  air  was 
rent  with  shouts,  and  a  thousand  voices  cried  out,  "  L^ng  live  the  Em- 
peror !" 

The  King  reddened,  but  dared  not  give  vent  to  his  displeasure.  His 
eyes  sought  the  ground,  while  Joseph,  gently  shaking  his  head,  looked 
at  the  people  and  pointed  furtively  at  their  soverigign. 

They  understood  him  at  once,  and  eager  to  repair  the  inadverteDce, 

"  Joseph's  own  worjs     Kubner.  part  l,p«ge  IJ^l 


MAKih;  A^'lul^E^'ni.  41 

they  shouted,  "  Long  live  the  Emperor  !  Long  live  our  King,  the  father 
of  his  people !" 

The  Emperor  now  smiled  and  waved  his  hand,  while  the  King,  still 
displeased,  bowed  gr.avely  and  turned  towards  Joseph. 

"You  are  quite  fight,'"  said  he,  in  sharp,  cutting  accents,  "  popularity 
is  a  cheap  commodity.  A  king  has  only  to  ride  about  in  hackney-coach- 
es, and  put  on  the  people's  garb,  to  becojne  the  idol  of  the  lower  classes. 
The  question,  however,  is,  how  long  will  a  popularity  of  this  sort  last?" 

"If  it  be  called  forth  by  a  hackney-coach  and  an  ordinary  dress,  sire, 
it  may  be  of  short  duration,  but  if  it  is  to  last,  it  must  be  accorded  to 
real  worth,"  replied  Joseph,  sympathising  with  the  discontent  of  the 
King. 

"  Which  no  one  would  presume  to  deny  in  your  Majesty's  case,"  re- 
joined Louis  with  a  constrained  and  awkward  bow. 

"  Oh,"  exclaimed  Joseph  blushing,  "  I  had  not  understood  that  your 
Majesty's  irony  was  intended  for  me,  else  I  should  not  have  answered 
as  1  did.  I  do  not  strive  after  popularity.  My  actions  (low  naturally 
from  my  convictions.  These  teach  me  that  my  natural  condition  is  not 
that  of  an  emppror  but  of  a  man,  and  I  conduct  myself  accordingly."* 

So  saying,  the  Emperor  turned  once  Toore  to  salute  the  people,  and 
then  ascended  the  wide  marble  steps  that  led  to  the  terrace  of  the  pal- 
ace. The  two  monarchs  and  the  glittering  courtiers  disappearpd  amid 
the  ^^  vivas  "  of  the  multitude,  and  now  they  became  suddenly  silent. 

In  the  midst  of  this  silence,  the  same  voice  which  has  so  sharply  crit- 
icised the  King,  was  heard.     Again  it  spoke  as  follows  : 

"  Marsorio  has  made  another  epigram,  and  mistaking  me  for  Pasquin, 
has  just  whispered  it  in  my  ear  !" 

"  What  did  he  say  1  Tell  us  what  our  good  Marsorio  says !  Repeat 
the  epigram !"  saluted  the  speaker  ou  every  side. 

"  Here  it  is,"  returned  the  voice. 

"  A  nos  yeux  ctonncs  de  sa  simplicite 
Falkenstein  a  inontro  la  majestc  sans  faste, 
Chez  nous  par  un  honteux  contraste 
Qu'a-t'il  trouvo  1     Faste  sans  majeste."! 

*  The  Emreror'aWn  words.    Kairshom's  Joseph  II,  pago  14C. 
t  R.imshcrn,  page  146. 


i'^  JUvSLt'h    tllK  >EL;(>N1) 


CHAPTER  XII. 


THE    DINNER  Elf    FAMILY. 


TiiB  King  and  the  Emperor  had  meanwhile  reached  the  apartment 
which  opened  into  the  private  dining-room  of  the  royal  family.  The 
Princes  with  their  wives  were  already  there  ;  but  Marie  Antoinette  al- 
ways came  at  the  last  moment.  She  dreaded  the  sarcasm  of  the  Count 
de  Provence  and  the  sullen  or  contemptuous  j^lances  of  the  King.  She 
would  have  given  much  to  return  to  the  old  stiff,  public  ceremonial 
which  she  had  banished,  but  that  she  could  not  do.  Ifc  wou}d  have  been 
too  great  a  concession  to  the  Court.  Her  only  refuge  was  to  stay  away 
as  long  as  decorum  allowed,  and  since  tba  Emperor's  arrival  she  never 
entered  the  room  until  he  had  been  announced. 

To  day  she  was  even  later  than  usual,  and  the  King,  who  like  other 
mortals,  was  hungry  after  his  walk,  began  to  grow  sulky  at  the  delay. 
"When  at  last  she  entered  the  room,  he  scarcely  vouchsafed  her  an  incli- 
nation of  the  head  as  he  rose  to  conduct  her  to  the.  table.  The  Queen 
eeemed  not  to  perceive  the  omission.  She  gave  him  her  hand  with  a 
sweet  smile,  and  despite  his  ill-hninor,  Louis  tould  not  suppress  a  throb 
as  he  saw  how  brilliantly  beautiful  she  was. 

"You  have  made  us  wait,  Madame,"  said  he,  "  but  your  appearance 
to-day  repays  us  for  your  tardiness." 

The  Queen  smiled  again,  for  well  she  knew  that-she  was  bewitchingly 
dressed,  and  that  the  new  coiffure  which  Leonard  had  contrived,  was 
really  becoming,  and  would  heighten  her  charms  by  contrast  with  the 
hideous  towers  that  were  heaped,  like  Pelion  upon  Ossa,  over  the  heads 
of  the  princesses. 

"  I  hope  that  your  Majesty  will  forgive  me  for  being  late,"  said  she, 
secure  in  the  power  of  her  fascinations. 

"  My  little  Jacques  is  to  blame.  He  is  sick  to  day,  and  would  have 
no  one  to  put  him  to  sleep  but  myself" 

"Your  Majesty  should  feel  flattered,"  cried  the  Count  of  Provence. 
"You  are  expected  to  put  off  your  dinner  until  a  little  peasant  is  pleas- 
ed to  go  to  sleep." 

"Pardon  me,  your  Highness,"  said  the  Queen,  coloring,  ''Jacques  is 
no  longer  a  peasant — he  is  my  child." 

"The  Dauphin,  perchance,  which  your  Majesty  promised  not  long 
since  to  the  dames  de  la  ImIUV  sneered  the  king's  brother. 

The  Queen  blushed  so  deeply  that  the  flush  of  her  shame  overspread 
her  whole  face  and  neck,  but  instead  of  retorting,  she  turned  to  address 
})er  brother. 


MAIilli  AN'luLNK'rri';.  4J 

*•  You  have  not  «  word  of  greeting  for  me,  Joseph  V 

"My  dear  sister,"  said  the  Euiperor,  "|  am  speechless  with  admira- 
tion at;  y<;ur  coiffure.  Where  did  you  gtt  such  a  wilderness  of  flowers 
and  feathers  ?" 

"  They  are  the  worll  of  Leonard," 

"  Who  is  Leonard  ?" 

"What!"  interrupted  the  Countess  d'ArtoI?,  "your  Majesty  docs  not 
know  who  Leonard  is — Leonard  the  Queen's  hair-dresser — Leonard  the 
autocrat  of  fashion  1  lie  it  is  who  has  imagined  our  lovei}"  sister's 
coiffure,  and  certainly  these  feathers  are  superb!" 

"  Beautiful  indeed!"  (jried  the  Countess  of  Provence,  with  an  appear- 
ance of  ecstacy. 

"Are  these  the  costly  feathers  -which  I  heard  your  Majesty  admiring 
in  the  hat  of  the  due  de  Lauzun?"  asked  the  Count  de  Provence,  point- 
edly. 

"That  is  a  curious  question,"  remarked  the  King.  "How  should  the 
fea'hers  of  the  due  de  Lauzun  be  transported  to  the  head  of  the  Queen?" 

"  Sire,  I  was  by,  when  de  Gucmence,  on  the  part  of  de  Lauzuu,  re- 
quested the  Queen's  acceptance  of  the  feathers." 

"And  the  Queen?"  asked  Louis,  with  irritation. 

"  1  accepted  the  gift,  sire,"  replied  Marie  Antoinette,  calmly^  "  The 
offer  was  not  altogether  in  accordauce'with  Court-etiquette,  but  no  dis- 
respect was  intended,  and  I  could  not  inflict  upon  Monsieur  de  Lauzun 
the  humiliation  of  a  refusal.  The  Count  de  Provence,  however,  can 
spare  himself  further  anxiety  in  the  matter,  as  the  feathers  that  1  wear 
to-day  are  those  which  were  lately  presented  to  mo  by  my  sister,  the 
Queen  of  Naples." 

"  Indeed  !"  exclaimed  the  Emperor,  "  I  was  not  aware  that  Caroline 
gave  presents,  although  I  know  that  she  frequently  accepts  them  from 
her  courtiers." 

"The  etiquette  at  Naples,  differs  then  from  that  of  Pc;ris,"  remarked 
the  King.  "  No  subject  has  the  right  to  offer  a  gift  to  the  Queen  of 
Prance." 

"Heaven  be  praised  !"  cried  the  Count  de  Provence,  "nobody  here 
pays  any  attention  to  Court-customs  !  Since  Madame  de  Noailles  gave 
in  her  resignation  we  have  been  free  to  do  all  things.  This  inestimable 
freedom  w»  owe  to  our  lovely  sister-in-law,  who  in  defiance  of  all  pre- 
judice, has  had  boldness  erTough  to  burst  the  fetters  which  for  so  many 
hundred  years  had  impeded  the  actions  of  the  Queens  of  France." 

At  that  moment  the  lirst  lady  of  honor,  on  bended  knee,  presented 
the  Queen  her  soup,  and  this  relieved  Marie  Antoinette  from  the  pain- 
ful embarrassment  which  this  equivocal  compliment  occasioned.  But 
tjie  Emperor  interposed. 

"  You  have  reason  to  be  thankful  to  ray  sister  that  she  has  had  the 
independence  to  attack  these  absurdities,"  said  Joseph,  warmly.  "But 
pardon  me  if  I  ask  if  etiquette  at  Versailles  approves  of  the  conversion 
of  the  corridors,  galleries  and  staircases  of  the  palace  Into  booths  for 


44  .JOSEPH  THE  SECONJJ. 

the  accommodation  of  shopkeepers  and  tradesmen. ""■■ 

"It  is  an  old  privilege  which  custom  has  sanctioned,"  returned  the 
King,  smiling. 

"And  which  violates  the  sanctity  of  the  King's  residence,"  objected 
the  Emperor.  "The  Saviour  who  drove  the  money-changers  from  the 
temple,  would  certainly  expel  these  traders,  were  he  to  appear  on  earth 
to-day." 

This  observation  was  received  in  snllen  silence.  The  royal  fjimily 
looked  annoyed,  but  busied  themselves  with  their  knives  and  forks.  A 
most  unpleasant  pause  ensued,  which  was  broken  by  the  Queen,  who 
turning  to  her  brother,  asked  him  what  he  had  seen  to  interest  him  since 
his  arrival  in  Paris. 

"  You  well  know,"  said  he,  "  that  Paris  abounds  in  interesting  insti- 
tutions. Yesterday  1  was  filled  with  enthusiasm  with  what  I  saw  in  the 
course  of  my  morning  ramble." 

"  Where  did  yon  go,  Count?"  asked  Louis,  appeased  and  flattered  by 
the  Emperor's  words. 

"To  the  Invalides,  and  I  confess  to  you  that  the  sight  of  this  noble 
asylum  filled  me  with  as  much  envy  as  admiration.  1  have  iiothing  in 
Vienna  that  will  bear  comparison  v?ith  this  magnificent  offering  of  France 
to  her  valiant  defenders.  You  must  feel  your  heart  stir  with  pride 
whenever  you  visit  those  crippled  heroes,  sire." 

" I  have  never  visited  the  Invalides"  said  the  King,  coloring. 

"What!"  cried  Joseph, raising  his  hands  in  astonishment,  "the  King 
of  France  has  never  visited  the  men' who  have  suffered  in  his  behalf! 
Sire,  if  you  have  neglected  this  sacred  duty,  you  should  hasten  to  repair 
the  omission." 

"  What  else  did  you  seel"  asked  the  Queen,  striving  to  cover  the 
King's  displeasure,  and  the  contemptuous  by-play  of  the  Count  de  Pro- 
vence. 

"  I  visited  the  Foundling  Hospital.  To  you,  Antoinette,  this  hospi- 
tal «niust  possess  especial  interest.'' 

"  Oh  yes.  I  subscribe  yearly  to  it  from  my  private  purse,"  said  tlie 
Queen. 

"  But  surely  you  sometimes  visit  the  pious  sisters  upon  whom  de- 
volves the  real  burthen  of  this  charity,  to  reward  them  by  your  sympa- 
thy for  their  disinterested  labors  ?" 

"No,  I  have  never  been  there,"  replied  the  Queen,  confused.  "It  is 
not  allowed  to  the  Queens  of  I'rance  to  visit  public  benevolent  institu- 
tions." 

"And  yet  it  is  allowable  for  them  to  attend  public  balls  at  the  Opera 
house !" 

Marie  Antoinette  blushed  and  looked  displeased.  This  sally  of  the 
Emperor  was  followed  by  another  blank  pause  which  finally  was  broken 
by  himself. 

♦This  custom  was  subsequently  abolished  by  Marie  Antoinette,  and  the  lower  classes  never  f"r- 
f'avc  her  f  t  withdrawiiifc  this  cxtraoiflinarv  privilffre  from  ilie  hucksters  of  Paris. 


MAKIE  ANTOIKEITE.  45 

"  I  also  visited  another  noble  institution,"  continued  he,  that  of  the 
deaf  mutes.  The  Abbe  de  I'Epee  deserves  the  homage  of  the  world  for 
this  monument  of  individual  charity;  for  I  have  been  told  that  his  insti- 
tution has  never  yet  received  assistance  from  the  crown.  My  dear  sis- 
ter 1  venture  to  ask  alms  of  you  for  his  unfortunate  proteges.  With 
what  strength  of  love  has  he  explored  the  dark  recesses  of  their  jninds, 
to  bear  ^fithin  the  light  of  intelligence  and  cultivation  !  Think  hnw  he 
has  rescued  ther%  from  a  joyless  stupor,  to  place  them  by  the  Bide  of 
thinking,  reasoning  and  happy  human  beings!  As  soon  as  I  return  to 
Vienna,  I  shall  found  an  institution  I'br  the  deaf  and  dumb;  1  have  al- 
ready arranged  with  the  Abbe  lo  impart  his  system  to  a  person  who 
shall  be  sent  to  conduct  the  asylum  I  propose  to  endow." 

"  I  am  ht^ppy  to  think  that  you  meet  with  so  many  things  in  France 
worthy  of  your  approval,  Count,"  remarked  the  King. 

"Paris,  sire,"  said  Joseph,  "is  rich  in  treasures  \if  whose  existence 
you  arc  scarcely  aware." 

"  What  are  these  treasures  then?     Enlighten  me,  (-ount." 

"They  arc  the  magniticent  works  of  art,  sire,  which  are  lying  like 
rubbish  in  your  royal  storehouses  in  Paris.  Luckily,  as  \  have  been 
told,  etiquette  requires  that  the  pictures  in  your  palaces  should,  fronx 
time  to  time,  be  exchanged,  and  thus  these  masterpieces  arc  sometimes 
brought  to  view.  In  this  matter,  1  acknowledge  that  Etiquette  iS  wis- 
dom."* 

"Etiquette,"  replied  Louis,  "is  often  the  only  defence  which  kings 
can  place  between  themselves  and  importunate  wisdom^" 

"  Wisdom  is  so  hard  to  find  that  I  should  think  it  impossible  for  her 
to  be  importunate,"  returned  Joseph.  "  1  met  with  her  yesterday,  how- 
ever, in  another  one  of  your  noble  institutions — I  mean  the  military 
school.  I  spent  three  hours  there,  and  I  envy  you  the  privilege  of  visit- 
ing it  as  often  as  you  feel  disposed." 

"Your  envy  is  quite  inappropriate,"  replied  Louis,  sharply,  "fori 
have  never  visited  the  institute  at  all." 

"Impossible!"  cried  the  Emperor,  warmly.  "You  are  unacquainted 
with  all  that  is  noblest  and  gi*eiatest  in  your  own  capital,  sire  !  It  is 
your  duty  as  a  King  to  know  every  thing  that  concerns  the  welfare  of 
your  subjects  not  only  here  in  Paris  but  throughout  all  France."! 

"I  disagree  with  you,  and  I  am  of  opinion  that  wisdom  is  often  exceed- 
ingly offensive,"  replied  the  King  frowning,  as  with  a  stiiT  bow,  he  rose 
from  the  table. 

Marie  Antoinette  looked  anxiously  at  Joseph  to  see  the  effects  of  her 
husband's  impoliteness,  but  the  Emperor  looked  perfectly  unconscious, 
and  began  to  discuss  the  subject  of  painting  with  the  Count  d'Artois. 

Thfe  Queen  retired  to  her  cabinet,  heartily  rejoicing  that  the  dinner 
enfamille  had  come  to  an  end,  and  almost  ready  to  order  that  the  royal^ 
meals  should  be  served  in  the  state  dining-room,  and  the  people  of  Pa- 

^ —  ■ 'r 

*  The  Emperor's  words.    Campan,  Vol.  1,  p.  1^8, 
tThc  liipreror's  woris,    Campan.  Vol.  1,  p,  79, 


46  JOSEPH  THE  SECOND. 

j'is  invited  to  resume  their  old  custom  of  coming  to  stare  at  the  royal 
family  ! 

She  sat  down  to  her  escritoire  to  work  with  her  Treasurer  and  private 
Secretary,  that  is  to  say  to  sign  all  the  papers  which  he  placed  before 
her  for  that  purpose. 

The  door  opened  and  the  Emperor  entered  the  room.  The  Queen 
would  have  risen,  but  he  prevented  her  and  begged  that  he  inighc  not 
feel  himself  to  be  an  intruder. 

"I  came,  dear  feiste;-,"  said  he,  "to  ask  you  to  accompany  me  to  the 
Thecitre  tonight.  Meanwhile  it  will  give  me  great  pleasure  to  see  vou 
usefully  employed."  ^ 

So  tiie  Queen  went  bxi  signing  papers,  not  one  of  which  she  examined. 
The  Emperor  watched  lor  a  time  in  astonished  silence ;  finally  he  came 
up  to  the  escritoire. 

"•  My  sister,"  said  he,  "  I  think  it  very  strange  that  you  put  your  name 
to  so  many  documents  without  ever  looking  at  their  contents." 

"Why  strange,  brother?"  asked  the  Queen,  opening  her  large  eyes 
in  wonder. 

"  Because  it  is  a  culpable  omission,  Antoinette.  You  should  not  so 
lightly  throw  away  your  royal  signature.  The  name  of  a  sovereign 
should  never  be  signed  without  deliberation — much  less  blindly,  as  you 
are  signing  yours  at  present."* 

Marie  Antoinette  colored  with  vexation  at  this  reproof  in  presence  of 
one  of  her  own  subjects,  "  My  brother,"  replied  she  hastily,  "  I  admire 
the  facility  with,  which  you  generalize  on  the  subject  of  other  people's 
derelictions.  But  unhappily  your  homilies  are  sometimes  misapplied. 
My  Secretary,  Monsieur  d'Augeard,  has  my  full  confidence,  and  these 
papers  are  merely  the  quarterly  accounts  of  my  household  expenditures. 
They  have  already  been  approved  by  the  auditor,  and  you  perceive  that 
I  risk  nothing  by  affixing  my  signature." 

"T  perceive  farther,"  replied  Joseph  smiling,  "  that  you  are  of  one 
mind  with  your  husband,  and  find  wisdom  sometimes  very  offensive. 
Forgive  me  if  in  my  over-anxiety  I  have  hurt  you,  dear  sister.  Let  us 
be  friends,  for  itideed,  my  poor  Antoinette,  you  are  sorely  in  need  of 
friends  at  this  Court." 

The  Queen  dismissed  her  Secretary,  and  then  came  forward  and  took 
her  brother's  hand.  "  You  have  discovered  then,"  said  she,  "  that  I  am 
surrounded  by  enemies  ?" 

"  I  have  indeed,  and  I  tremble  for  your  safety.  Your  foes  are  power- 
ful  and  you — you  are  not  sufficiently  cautious,  Antoinette." 

"  What  is  it  in  me  that  they  find  to  blame!"  exclaimed  she,  her  beau- 
tiful eyes  filling  with  tears. 

"  Some  other  day,  we  must  talk  of  this  together.  I  see  that  you  are 
threatened,  but  as  yet,  I  neither  understand  the  cause  of  your  danger  nor 
its  remedy.  As  soon  as  I  shall  have  unravelled  the  mystery  of  your 
position  I  will  seek  an  interview  with  you,  and  then  dear  sister,  we  must 

>■  *  The  Emperors  own  ^ordB. 


MAlilE  AiNTOlNJiTlTli.  47 

forget  that  \re  are  sovereigns  and  remember  but  one  thing — the  tics  that 
have  bound  us  together  since  tirst  vre  loved  each  other  as  the  children  of 
one  father  and  mother." 

Marie  Antoinette  laid  her  head  upon  her  brother's  bosom  and  wept. 
"  Oh  that  we  were  children  again  in  the  gardens  of  Schonbrunn  !"  sob- 
bed she,  "for  there  at  least  we  were  innocent  and  happy  !" 


CHAPTER  Xlll. 

A  VISIT  TO  JEAN  JACQUES  ROUSSEAr. 

Before  the  door  of  a  small,  mean  house  in  the  village  of  Montmorcn- 
cy  stood  a  hackney-coach  from  which  a  man,  plainly  dressed,  but  distin- 
guished in  appearance,  had  just  alighted.  He  was  contemplated  with 
sharp  scrutiny  by  a  woman,  who  with  arms  a-kimbo,  blocked  up  the  door 
of  the  cottage. 

"  Does  Monsieur  Rousseau  live  here  ?"  asked  the  stranger  touching 
his  hat. 

"Yes,  my  husband  lives  here,"  said  the  woman  sharply. 

"  Ah,  you  are  then  Therese  Levasseur,  the  companion  of  the  great 
philosopher?" 

"  Yes  I  am,  and  the  Lord  knows  that  I  lead  a  pitiful  life  with  the  phil- 
ospher." 

"  You  complain  Madam,  and  yet  you  are  the  chosen  friend  of  a  great 
man !"  ^ 

"  People  do  not  live  ou  greatness,  sir,  nor  on  goodness  either.  Jean 
Jacques  is  too  L'ood  to  be  of  any  use  in  this  world.  He  gives  away 
everything  he  has,  and  leaves  nothing  for  himself  and  me." 

The  stranger  grew  sad  as  he  looked  at  this  great,  strapping  woman, 
whose  red  face  was  the  very  representative  of  coarseness  and  meanness. 

"  Be  so  good  as  to  conduct  me  to  Monsieur  Kousseau's  presence,  ma- 
dam," said  he  in  rather  a  commanding  tone. 

"  I  shall  do  no  such  thing,"  cried  Therese  Levasseur,  in  a  loud,  rough 
voice.  "People  who  visit  in  hackney-coaches  should  not  take  airs. 
Monsieur  Rousseau  is  not  to  be  seen  by  everybody." 

"A  curious  doctrine  that,  to  be  propounded  before  a  philosopher's 
door!"  said  the  stranger,  laughing.  "But  pray,  madam,  excuse  me  and 
my  hackney-coach  and  allow  me  to  pass." 

"  You  shall  first  tell  your  business.     Do  you  bring  music  to  copy  ?" 

"  No,  madam,  I  come  merely  to  visit  monsieur." 

"Then  you  can  go  as  yuu  came,"   exclaimed   the  virago.     "My  hus- 


48  JOSEPH  THE  SECUiS'D. 

band  is  not  a  wild  animal  on  exhibition,  and  I  am  not  going  to  let  in 
every  idle  stranger  that  interferes  with  his  work  and  cuts  off  my  bread. 
God  knows  he  gives  nie  little  enough,  without  lessening  the  pittance  by 
Avasting  his  time  talking  to  you  or  the  like  of  you." 

The  stranger  put  his  hand  in  hts  pocket,  and  drawing  it  out  again, 
laid  something  in  the  palm  of  Therese's  broad,  dirty  hand.  He  repeat- 
ed his  request. 

She  looked  at  the  gold,  and  her  avaricious  face  brightened. i^  "Yes, 
yes,"  said  she,  contemplating  it  with  a  greedy  smile,  "  you  shall  see 
Jean  Jacques.  But  first  you  must  promise  not  to  tell  him  of  the  louis 
d'or.  He  would  growl  and  wish  me  to  give  it  back.  He  is  such  a  fool ! 
He  would  rather  starve  than  let  his  friends  assist  him." 

"  Be  at  ease — 1  shall  not  say  a  word  to  him." 

"  Then,  sir,  go  inAand  mount  the  stairs,  but  take  care  not  to  stumble, 
for  the  railing  is  down.  Knock  at  the  door  above,  and  there  you  will 
tind  Jean  Jacques.  Whil^you  talk  to  him,  I  will  go  out  and  spend  this 
money -all  for  his  comfo.rt.     Let  me  see — he  needs  a  pair  of  shoes  and  a 

cravat — and Well,"  continued  she  nodding  her  head,  "  farewell,  don't 

break  your  neck." 

"  Yes,"  muttered  she  as  she  went  back  to  the  street,  "  he  wants  shoes 
and  cravats,  and  coats  too  for  that  matter,  but  I  am  not  the  fool  to  waste 
my  money  upon  him.  I  shall  spend  it  on  myself  for  a  new  neck-hand- 
kerchief, and  if  there  is  anything  left,  I  shall  treat  myself  to  a  couple  of 
bottles  of  wine  and  some  fish," 

While  Therese  stalked  through  the  streets  to  spend  her  money,  the 
stranger  had  obtained  entrance  into  the  little  dark  room,  where  sat  Jeaa 
Jacques  Rousseau. 

It  was  close  and  mouldy  like  the  rest  of  the  house,  and  a  few  straw 
chairs  with  one  deal  table  were  the  only  furniture  there.  On  the  wall 
hung  several  bird-cages,  whose  inmates  were  twittering,  and  warbling 
one  to  another.  Before  the  small  window,  which  looked  out  upon  a  no- 
ble walnut  tree,  stood  several  glass  globes  in  which  various  wprms  and 
fishes  were  leading  an  uneasy  existence. 

Rousseau  himself  was  seated  at  the  table,  writing.  He  wore  a  coat 
of  coarse  gray  cloth,  like  that  of  a  laborer,  the  collar  of  his  rough  linen 
shirt  was  turned  down  over  a  bright  cotton  scarf,  which  was  carelessly 
tied  around  his  neck.  His  face  was  pale,  sad,  and  weary  ;  and  his  scant 
gray,  hairs,  as  well  as  the  deep  wrinkles  upon  his  forehead  wore  the  scroll 
wherpon  time  had  written  sixty  years  of  strife  and  struggle  with  life. 
Imagination  however  still  looked  out  from  the  depths  of  his  dark  eyes, 
and  the  corners  of  his  mouth  were  still  graceful  with  the  pencillings  of 
many  a  good-humored  smile. 

"  Pardon  me,  sir,"  said  the  stranger,  "  that  I  enter  unannounced.  I 
found  no  one  to  precede  me  hither." 

"  We  are  too  poor  to  keep  a  servant,  sir,"  replied  Rousseau,  *'  and  I 
presume  that  ray  good  Therese  has  gone  out  on  some  errand.  How  can 
J  serve  you  V 


A1AK1£  AJJTUlNErfE.  49 

"  I  came  to  visit  Jean  Jacques  Rousseau,  the  poet  and  philosopher." 

"  I  am  the  one,  but  scarcely  the  others.  Life  has  gone  so  roughly 
■with  me  that  poetry  has  vanished  long  ago  from  my  domicile,  and  men 
have  deceived  rae  so  often  that  I  have  fled  from  the  world  in  disgust. 
You  see,  then,  that  1  have  no  claim  to  the  title  of  philosopher." 

"  And  thus  speaks  Jean  Jacques  Rousseau,  who  once  taught  that  man-, 
kind  were  naturally  good  ?" 

"  I  still  believe  in  my  own  teachings,  sir,"  cried  Roiisseau  warmly. 
*'  Man  is  the  vinculum  that  connects  the  Creator  with  His  creation,  and^ 
light  from  heaven  illumines  bis  birth  and  infancy.  But  the  world,  sir,  is 
evil,  and  is  swayed  by  two  demons — selfishness  and  falsehood.*  These 
demons  poison  the  heart  of  man,  and  influence  him  to  actions  whose 
sole  object  is  to  advance  himself  and  prejudice  his  neighbor." 

"I  fear  that  yoar  two  demons  were  coeval  with  the  creation  of  the 
world,"  said  the  stranger,  with  a  smile. 

"  No,  no  ;  they  were  not  in  Paradise.  And  what  is  Paradise  but  the 
primitive  condition  of  man — that  happy  state  when  in  sweet  harmony 
with  nature,  he  lay  upon  the  bosom  of  his  mother-earth  and  inhaled 
health  and  peace  from  her  life-giving  breath  ?  Let  us  return  to  a  state 
of  nature,  and  we  shall  find  that  the  gates  of  Paradise  have  re-opened. 

"Never !  We  have  tasted  of  the  tree  of  knowledge  and  are  forever 
exiled  from  Eden." 

"  Woe  to  us  all,  if  what  you  say  is  true ;  for  then  the  world  is  but  a 
vale  of  misery,  and  the  wise  man  has  but  one  resource — self  destruction ! 
But  pardon  me,  I  have  not  offered  you  a  chair." 

The  stranger  accepted  a  seat  and  glanced  at  the  heaps  of  paper  that 
covered  the  rickety  old  table, 

"You  were  writing?",  asked  he.  "Are  we  soon  to  receive  another 
great  work  from  Rousseau's  hands?"  • 

"  No  sir,"  replied  Rousseau  sadly,  "  I  am  too  unhappy  to  write." 

"  But  surely  this  is  writing,"  and  the  stranger  pointed  to  the  papers 
around. 

"  Yes,  sir,  but  1  copy,  music,  and  God  knows  that  in  the  notes  I  write, 
there  is  little  or  no  thought.  I  have  written  books  that  I  might  give 
occasion  to  the  FrcBch  to  think,  but  they  never  profited  by  the  oppor- 
tunity. They  are  more  complaisant  now  that  I  copy  music.  I  give  them 
a  chance  to  sing  and  they  sing.f 

"  It  seems  to  me  that  there  is  great  discord  in  their  music,  sir.  You 
who  are  as  great  a  musician  as  a  philosopher  can  tell  me  whether  1  judge 
correctly." 

"  You  are  right,"  replied  Rousseau.  "  Tlie  dissonance  increases  with 
every  hour.  The  voice  which  you  hear  is  that  of  the  people,  and  the 
day  will  come  when,  claiming  their  rights,  they  will  rend  the  air  with  a 
song  of  such  hatred  and  revenge  as  the  world  has  never  heard  before." 

•  This  is  not  very  philosophical.  If  tho  fraction  man,  bo  intriniica'ly  good,  how  is  it  that  the 
^holo  (the  world  which  it  made  up  of  nothing  but  men)  is  80  evil  ?  Is  there  a  deiDiargo  responsi- 
ble forth"  introduction  of  these  tw^)  demons  V 

tThiB  18  Rousseau's  own  laoRuaco.    Ramehoru,  P.  140. 

1 


;jy  JOSEPH  TiiH;  6KCUJSl>. 

*'  But  who  «icnies  their  rights  to  the  people?" 

"The  property-holders,  the  priests,  the  nobles,  and  the  King." 

'■The  King!  what  hus  he  done?" 

"  He  is  the  grand-sou  of  that  Louis  Fifteenth,  whose  life  of  infamy  is 
a  foul  blot  upon  the  fame  of  France ;  and  nothing  can  ever  wash  away 
'the  disgrace  save  an  ocean  oi'  royal  blood." 

"  Terrible  !"  exclaimed  the  visitor  with  a  shudder.  "  Are  you  a  pro- 
phet that  you  allow  yourself  such  anticipations  of  evil '?" 

"  No  sir,  I  predict  what  is  to  come,  from  my  knowledge  of  that  which 
has  gone  by."     '  ' 

"  What  do  you  mean  V^ 

Rousseau  slowly  shook  his  head.  "  Fate  has  threatened  this  unhappy 
Kiuf^  from  the  day  of  his  birth.  Warning  after  warning  has  been  sent 
and  disregarded.  Truly  the  man  was  a  wise  one,  who  said  '  whom  the 
Gods  destroy,  they  first  blind.'  " 

"  I  implore  you,  speak  further.  What  evil  omens  have  you  seen  that 
lead  you  to  apprehend  misfortune  to  Louis  Sixteenth?" 

"  Have  you  never  heard  of  them  ?     They  are  generally  known." 

"No,  indeed — I  beseech  you,  enlighten  me,  for  Lhavegood  reason  for 
my  curiosity." 

"  Louis  was  not  born  like  his  predecessors,  and  it  is  generally  believ- 
ed that  he  will  not  die  a  natural  death.  Not  a  single  member  of  the 
royal  family  was  present  at  his  birth.  His  mother  by  accident  found 
herself  alone  in  the  palace  of  Versailles,  when  she  was  overtaken  by  the 
pains  of  childbirth,  and  some  insignificant  stranger  received  the  heir  of 
France  upon  his  entrance  to  life.  The  courier  who  was  sent  to  announce 
his  birth,  fell  from  his  horse  and  was  killed  on  the  spot.  The  abbe  de 
Saujon,  v.'ho  was  called  in  to  christen  the  infant,  was  struck  by  apoplexy 
while  entering  the  chapel-door,  and  his  arrti  and  tongue  were  paralysed.* 
From  hundreds  of  healthy  women,  the  physician  of  the  Dauphiness 
chose  three  nurses  for  the  Prince.  At  the  end  of  a  week,  two  of  them 
were  dead,  and  the  third  one,  Madame  Guillotine,  after  nursing  him  for 
six  weeks,  was  carried  off  by  small-pox.  Eventhe  frivolous  grandfather 
was  terrified  by  such  an  accumulation  of  evil  ofhens,  and  he  was  heard 
to  regret  that  he  had  given  to  his  grandson  the  title  of  Duke  of  Berry, 
'  for  '  said  he,  '  the  name  has  always  brought  ill-luck  to  its  possessors.'! 

"  But  the  King  has  long  since  outlived  the  name,  and  has  triumphed 
bver  all  the  uncomfortable  circumstances  attending  his  birth,  for  he  is 
now  King  of  France." 

*'  And  do  you  know  what  he  said  when  the  crown  was  placed  upon 
his  head?" 

"  No — I  have  never  h^ard."  ■ 

"  He  was  crowned  at  Rheims.  When  the  hand  of  the  Archbishop  was 
withdrawn  from  the  crown,  the  King  moaned,  and  turning  deathly  pale, 
murmured,  '  on  now  it  pains  me  I'J;     Once  before  him,  a  King  of  France 

*  Memoires  de  Mme  de  Crcque,  Vol.  3,  P.  179. 

t  Creque.  Vo',  8,  P.  180,  \  Catnpan,  Vol.  1,  P;  ItS, 


MAKIE  AJSTULKETTE.  51 

had  made  the  same  exclamation,  and  that  King  was  Henry  Third." 

"  Strange,"  said  the  visitor.  "  All  this  seems  very  absurd  and  yet  it 
fills  me  with  horror.  Have  you  anything  more  ot  the  same  sort  to 
point  out?" 

"  jRemember  all  that  occurred  when  the  Dauphin  was  married  to  the 
Archduchess  Marie  Antoinette.  When  she  put  her  foot  upon  French 
ground,  a  tent  had  been  erected  according  to  custom,  where  she  was  to 
lay  aside  her  clothing,  and  be  attired  in  garments  of  French  mafiufac- 
ture.  The  walls  of  the  tent  were  hung  wiih  costly  Gobelin  tapestry,  all 
of  which  represented  scenes  of  bloodshed.  On  one  side  was  the  massa- 
cre of  the  Innocents,  on  the  other  the  execution  of  the  Maccabees.  The 
Archduchess  herself  was  horror-stricken  at  the  omen.  On  that  night, 
two  of  the  ladies  in  waiting,  who  had  assisted  the  Queen  in  her  toilet, 
died  suddenly.  Think  of  the  dreadful  storm  that  raged  on  the  Dauphin's 
wedding-night,  and  of  the  fearful  accident  which  accompanied  his  entrance 
into  Paris,  and  then  tell  mc  whether  death  is  not  around,  perchance  be- 
fore this  unhappy  King  V 

"  3ut  to  what  end  are  these  omens,  since  they  cannot  help  us  to  avert 

evil  r  ^ 

"  To  what  end  ?"  asked  Rousseau  as  with  a  smile  he  contemplated  the 
agitated  countenance  of  his  guest,  '"  To  this  end — that  the  Emperor 
Joseph  may  warn  his  brother  and  sister  of  the  fate  which  threatens,  and 
which  will  surely  engulph  them,  if  they  do  not  heed  the  signs  of  the 
coming  tempest." 

"  How,  Rousseau,  you  know  me  ?" 

"  If  I  had  not  known  you  sire,  1  would  not  have  spoken  so  freely  of 
the  King.  I  saw  you  in  Paris  at  the  theatre  and  I  am  rejoiced  to  be  able 
to  speak  to  your  Majesty  as  man  to  man,  and  friend  to  friend." 

"  Then  let  me  be  as  frank  as  my  friend  has  been  to  me,"  said  Joseph 
extending  his  hand.  "  You  are  not  situated  as  becomes  a  man  of  your 
genius  and  fame.     What  can  I  do  to  better  your  condition  1" 

"  Better  my  condition  ?"  repeated  Rousseau  absently.  "  Nothing — I 
am  an  old  man  whose  every  illusion  has  fled.  My  only  wants  are  a  ray 
of  sunshine  to  warm  my  old  limbs  and  a  crust  of  bread  to  appease  my 
hunger," 

At  this  moment  a  shrill  voice  was  heard  without.  "  Put  ^wn  the 
money  and  I  will  fetch  the  music,  for  we  are  sadly  pressed  for  every 
thing." 

"  (|Ood  heavens !"  exclaimed  Rousseau,  anxiously.  "  I  am  not  ready, 
and  I  had  promised  the  music  to  Therese  for  this  very  hour.  How  shall 
I  excuse  myself?" Here  the  unhappy  philosopher  turned  to  the  Em- 
peror. "  Sire  you  asked  what  you  could  do  for  me,  I  implore  you,  leave 
this  room  before  Therese  enters  it.  She  will  be  justly  displeased,  if  she 
finds  you  here,  and  when  my  dear,  good  Therese  is  angry,  she  speaks  so 
loud  that  my  nerves  are  discomposed  for  hours  afterwards.  Here,  sire, 
through  this  other  door.  It  leads  to  my  bed-room  and  thence  by  a  etair- 
case  to  the  street." 


f)2  JOSEPH  THE  SECOND. 

Trembling  with  excitement,  Rousseau  hurried  the  Emperor  into  the 
jif^xt  room.  The  latter  waved  his  hand  and  the  door  was  closed  upon 
him.  As  he  reached  the  street,  Joseph  heard  the  sharp  discordant  tones 
of  Therese  Levasseur's  voice,  heapivig  abuse  upon  the  head  of  her  philo- 
sopher, because  he  had  not  complcl«d  l»is  task  and  they  would  have  not 
a  cent  wherewith  to  buy  dinner. 


CHxAPTER   XIV. 

THE  PARTING. 

Thk  visit  of  tlie  Emperor  was  drawing  to  a  close.  He  had  tas4ed  to 
its  uimo3t  of  the  enjoyments  of  the  peerless  city.  He  had  became  ac- 
quainted with  its  great  national  institutions,  its  industrial  resources,  its 
treasures  of  art  and  of  science.  The  Parisians  were  enthusiastic  in  his 
jiraise  ;  from  the  nobleman  to  the  artisan,  every  man  had  something  to 
yay  in  favor  of  the  gracious  and  affable  brother  of  the  Queen.  Even  the 
fish-wives,  those  formidable  dames  de  lakalle,  had  walked  in  procession 
to  pay  their  respects,  and  present  himaboquet  of  gigantic  proportions."* 

The  Emperor  was  popular  everywhere  except  at  Court.  His  candoi* 
was  unacceptable,  and  his  occasional  sarcasms  had  stung  the  pride  of  the 
royal  family.  The  King  never  pardoned  him  the  unpalatable  advice  he 
had  bestowed  relative  to  the  hospitals,  the  Invalides,  and  the  military 
schools.  The  Queen,  too,  was  irritated  to  see  that  whereas  her  brother 
might  have  expressed  his  disapprobation  of  her  acts  in  private,  he  never 
failed  to  do  so  in  presence  of  the  Court.  The  consequence  was,  that 
like  the  King  and  the  rest  of  the  royal  family,  Marie  Antoinette  was  re- 
lieved when  this  long  wished-for  visit  of  the  Emperor  was  over.  This 
did  not  prevent  her  from  clinging  to  his  neck,  and  shedding  abundant 
tears  as  she  felt  his  warm  and  loving  embrace. 

The  Emperor  drew  her  close  to  his  heart,  whi^ering meanwhile,  "re- 
member that  we  must  see  each  other  in  private.  Send  some  one  to  me 
to  conduct  me  to  the  roo^i  in  the  palace  which  you  call  your  '  asylum.' 

"  How !"  said  the  Queen  with  surprise,  "  you  have  heard  of  uiy  asy- 
lum!    Who  told  you  of  it?" 

''  Hush,  Antoinette,  you  will  awaken  the  King's  suspicions,  for  all  eyes 
are  upon  us  !     Will  you  admit  me  *?" 

'■  Yes,  I  will  send  Louis  to  conduct  you  this  afternoon,"  and  withdraw- 
ing herself  from  her  brother's  arms,  the  Queen  and  the  royal  family  took 
leave  of  Count  Falkenstein.  •^ 

*0n  lljis  occasiou  Madame  Trigodin,  one  of  the  mostr»ounnciil  of  the  poiasardot  made  an  ad- 
licas  '^0  behalf  "fUic-  j'ri.erhood.    Hubncrl.  T.  151, 


■  Ills  carriage.s  and  his  suil^  had  all  loft  Paris, and  Joseph,  loo,  was  sup- 
posed to  have  gone  long  before  the  hour  when  he  was  conducted  to  the 
Queen's  "  asylum  "  by  her  faithful  servant  Louis.  This  "  asylum  "  was 
in  an  obscure  corner  of  the  Tuillcrics,  and  to  reach  it,  the  Emperor  was 
introduced  into  the  Palace  by  a  side-door.  He  was  led  through  dark 
passages  and  up  narrow  stair-cases  until  they  reached  a  small  door  which 
Louis  opened  with  a  key  which  he  took  from  his  pocket.  He  clapped 
his  hand  three  times,  and  the  signal  being  answered,  he  made  a  profound 
inclination  to  the  Emperor. 

"Your  Majesty  can  enter.     The  Queen  is  there."  j. 

Joseph  found  himself  in  a  small,  simple  apartment  of  which  the  furni- 
ture was  of  white  wood  covered  with  chintz.  On  the  wall  was  a  hang- 
ing etagcrc  with  books;  opposite,  an  open  harpsichord,  and  in  the  recess 
of  the  window  a  table  covered  with  papers.  The  Emperor  hastily  sur- 
veyed this  room,  and  no  one  coming  forward,  he  passed  into  another. 

Here  he  found  his  sister — no  longer  the  magnificent  Queen  whose* 
rich  toilettes  were  as  proverbial  as  her  beaufcy  ;  but  a  lovely,  unpretend- 
ing woman,  without  rouge,  without  jewels,  clad  in  a  dress  of  India  mus- 
lin, which  was  confined  at  the  waist  by  a  simple  sash  of  pale  lilac  rib- 
bon. 

Marie  Antoinette  came  forward  with  both  hands  outstretched.  "I 
am  dre^s('d  as  is  my  custom,"  said  she,  "  when  the  few  friends  I  possess, 
oome  to  visit  me  here — here  in  my  asylum,  where  sometimes  I  am  able 
to  forget  that  I  am  Queen  of  Franco." 

"You  have  no  right  ever  to  forget  it,  Antoinette,  :md  it  was  express- 
ly to  remind  you  of  this,  that  I  asked  for  a  private  interview  with  my 
sister." 

"  You  wished  to  see  this  asylum  of  which  you  had  h^ard,  did  you 
not?"  asked  the  Queen  with  a  shade  of  bitterness.  "  1  have  been  calum- 
niated Xo  you  as  I  have  been  to  the  King  and  to  the  French  people. 
Oh!  T  know  how  my  enemies  are  trying  to  make  my  subjects  hate  me! 
1  know  that  about  these  very  rooms,  lewd  sonps  are  sung  on  the  Pont- 
neuf,  which  make  the  Count  de  Provence  hold  his  sides  with  laughter !" 

'■'  Yes  Antoinette,  1  have  heard  these  things,  and  I  came  hither  ex- 
pressly to  visit  this  'asylum  '." 

"  Well,  Joseph,  it  is  before  you.  The  room  through  which  you  passed 
and  this  one  form  my  suite.  The  door  yonder,  leads  to  the  apartment:? 
of  the  Princess  de  Lamballe,  and  I  have  never  opened  it  to  cntei*  my 
retreat  except  in  her  company." 

"You  had  never  the  right  to  enter  it  at  all.  A  retreat  of  this  kind  is 
improper  for  you,  and  woe  to  you  Antoinette  if  ever  another  man  be- 
side myself  should  cross  its  threshold  !  It  would  give  a  coloring  of  truth 
to  the  evil  reports  of  your  powerful  enemies." 

"  Gracious  God  of  Heaven  !"  cried  the  Queen,  pale  with  horror,  "what 
do  they  say  of  me !" 

"  It  would  avail  you  nothing  to  repeat  their  calumnies,  poor  child.  T 
have  com»  hither  to  warn  you  thjit  some  dark  clond  hangs  over  the  des. 


54-  .oshll'H    IHK  SfCoNl). 

;iny  I'f  France.     You  must  seek  means  to  disperse  it,  or  it  will  burst 
and  destroy  both  you  and  your  husband." 

"  1  have  already  felt  a  presentiment  of  evil,  dear  brother,  and  for  that 
very  reason  I  eorae  to  these  little  simple  rooms  that  [  may  for  a  fev*" 
hours  forget  the  destiny  that  awaits  me — the  court  which  hates  and  vili- 
fies rae — and  in  short— -my  supremest  sorrow — the  indifference  of  my 
husband." 

"  Dear  sister,  you  are  wrong.  You  should  never  have  sought  to  for- 
get these  things.  You  have  too  lightly  broken  down  the  barriers  which 
etiquette,  hundreds  of  years  ago,  had  built  around  the  Queens  of  France." 
"This  from  you,  Joseph,  you  vvho  despise  all  etiquette !" 
"  Nay,  Antoinette,  I  am  a  man,  and  that  justifies  me  in  many  an  indis- 
cretion. I  have  a  right  to  attend  an  opera-ball  unmasked,  but  you  have 
not." 

^  "  I  had  the  King's  permission,  and  was  attended  by  my  ladies  of  ho- 
nor, and  the  princes  of  the  royal  family." 

"An  Emperor  irsay  ride  in  a  hackney-coach,  if  the  whim  strike  him, 
but  not  a  Queen,  Antoinette." 

*'  That  was  an  accident,  Joseph.  I  was  returning  from  a  ball  with 
the  Duchess  de  Duras,  when  our  carriage  broke,  and  Louis  was  obliged 
to  seek  a  hackney-coach  or  we  would  have  returned  to  the  palace  on 
foot." 

"  Let  it  pass  then.  An  Emperor  or  a  King,  were  he  very  young, 
naight  indulge  himself  in  a  game  of  blind  man's  buff  without  improprie- 
ty, but  when  a  Queen  ventures  to  do  as  much,  she  loses  her  dignity. 
Nevertheless,  you  have  been  known  to  romp  with  the  other  ladies  of 
the  court,  when  your  husband  had  gone-  to  his  room  and  was  souad 
asleep."  , 

"  But  who  ever  went  to  bed  as  early  as  the  King  ?"  said  Marie  An- 
toinette, deprecatingly. 

"  Does  he  go  to  bed  too  early,  Antoinette  T  Then  it  is  strange  that 
on  one  evening  when  you  were  waiting  for  him  to  retire  so  that  you  and 
your  ladies  might  visit  the  Duchess  de  Duras,  you  should  have  advanced 
the  clock  by  half  an  hour,  and  sent  your  husband  to  bed  at  half  past  ten, 
when  of  course  he  found  no  one  in  his  apartments  to  wait  upon  him.* 
All  Paris  has  laughed  at  this  mischievous  prank  of  the  Queen  Can  you 
deny  this,  my  thoughtless  sister  ?" 

*'  I  never  tell  an  untruth,  Joseph,  but  I  confess  that  I  am  astounded 
to  see  •vi'hh  what  police-like  dexterity  you  have  ferretted  out  every  little 
occurrence  of  my  private  life." 

"A  queen  has  no  private  life.  She  is  doonied  to  live  in  public,  and 
woe  to  her  if  she  cannot  account  to  the  world  for  every  hour  of  her  exis- 
tence !  If  she  undertake  to  have  secrets,  her  very  lackeys  may  misrep- 
resent-her  innocence  and  make  it  crime." 

"  Good  heaven?!,  Joseph,"  cried  the  Queen,  "  you  talk  as  if  I  were  a 
criminal  before  ray  accusers." 

"Oampau.    19»- 


MAKIK    AN'K.HNKTlK,  .">,', 


"  Vou  are  a  criminal,  my  poor  yonn<j  sister,  i'n'oiir  dpiiiioii  ims  ;\^^. 
ruscd  you,  and  accusation  there  is  synonymous  with  jruill.  But  I — who 
give  you  so  much  pain,  come  as  your  friend  and  brother,  speakincr  hard 
truths  to  you,  dearest,  by  virtue  of  the  tie  which  binds  us  to  onr  motht^r. 
In  the  name  of  that  incomparable  moiher,  I  implore  yon  to  be  discreet, 
and  to  give  no  cause  to  your  enemies  for  misconstruction  of  your  youth- 
ful follies!  Take  up  the  load  of  your  royalty  wit-h  fr.rtitude,  and  when 
it  weighs  heavily  upon  your  poor  young  heart,  remember  that  you  were 
not  made  a  Queen  to  pursue  your  own  happiness,  but  to  strive  for  that 
of  your  subjects,  whose  hearts  are  still  with  you  in  spite  of  all  that  your 
enemies  have  done  or  said.  Give  up  all  egotism,  Antoinette — set  aside 
your  personal  hopes,  live  for  the  good  of  the  French  nation,  and  one  of 
these  days  you  will  believe  with  me  that  we  may  be  happy  without  in- 
dividual happiness,''  (« 

The  Queen  shook  her  head  and  tears  rolled  down  her  cheeks.  "  No 
no,  dear  Joseph,  a  woman  cannot  be  happy  when  she  is  unloved.  My 
heart  is  sick  with  solitude,  brother.  I  love  my  husband  and  he  does  not 
return  my  love.  If  1  am  frivolous,  it  is  because  I  am  unhappy.  Believe 
me  when  I  tell  you  that  all  would  be  well  if  the  King  would  but  love 
me." 

"Then,  Antoinette,  all  shall  be  well,"  said  a  voice  behind  them,  and 
starting  with  a  cry  of  surprise  and  shame,  the  Queen  beheld  the'l^ing. 

"  I  have  heard  all,"  said  Louis,  closing  the  door  .and  advanei>sfi:  towards 
Joseph.  "  With  a  bright,  afTectionate  smile,  he  held  out  his  hand — say- 
ing as  he  did,  "Pardon  me,  my  brother,  if  I  am  here  without  your  con- 
sent, and  let  me  have  a  share  in  this  sacred  and  happy  hour." 

"  Brother !"  repeated  Joseph  sternly.  "  You  say  that  you  have  over- 
heard us.  If  s6,  you  know  that  my  sister  is  solitary  j^nd  unhappy.  Since 
you  have  no  love  for  her,  you  are  no  brother  to  me,  for  she,  poor  child 
— is  the  tie  that  unites  m.  Look  at  her,  sire,  look  nt  her  sweet,  inno- 
cent, tear-stricken  face  !  What  has  she  done  that  you  should  thrust  her 
from  your  heart,  and  doom  her  to  confront  alone  the  sneers  &nd  hatred 
of  your  cruel  relatives  !  She  is  pure,  and  her  heart  is  without  a  stain. 
1  tell  you  so — I,  who  in  unspeakable  anxiety  have  watched  her  through 
hired  spies.  Had  I  found' her  guilty  I  \*ould  have  been  the  first  to  con- 
demn her — but  Antoinette  is  good,  pure,  virtuous,  and  she  has  but  one 
defect — want  of  thought.  It  was  your  duty  to  guide  her,  for  you  re- 
ceived her  from  her  mother's  hands,  a  child — a  young,  harmless,  unsus- 
pecting child.  What  has  she  ever  done  that  you  should  refuse  her  your 
lover  ■  ^ 

"Ask,  rather,  what  have  I  done,  that  my  relatives  .should  have  kept 
us  so  far  asunder?"  replied  Louis  with  emotion.  "Ask  those  who  have 
poisoned  my  ears  with  calumnies  of  my  wife,  why  they  should  have 
sought  to  deny  me  the  only  compensation  which  life  can  offer  to  my  roy- 
nl  station — the  inestimable  blessing  of  loving  and  being  loved.— But 
away  with  gloomy  retrospection  !  I  will  say  but  one  word  more  of  the 
past.     Your  Majesty  has  been  watched  and  your  visit  here  discovered. 


56  JUStiPii   I'Hfc  Sl;:COI^l>. 

1  was  told  that  you  were  seeking  to  identify  the  Queen  with  her  mother's 
empire — using  your  influence  to  make  her  forget  France  and  plot  dis- 
honor to  her  husband's  crown.  I  resolved  to  prove  the  truth  or  false- 
hood of  these  accusations  myself.  I  thank  heaven  that  I  did  so,  for  froia 
this  hour  I  shall  honor  and  regard  you  as  a  brother." 

"  I  shall  reciprocate,  sire,  if  you  will  promise  to  be  kind  to  my  sister.'* 

The  King  looked  at  Marie  Antoinette,  who,  seated  on  the  sofa  whence 
her  brother  had  risen,  was  weeping  bitterly.  Louis  went  towards  her, 
:ind  taking  both  her  hands  in  his,  he  pressed  them  passionately  to  his 
lips.  "  Antoinette^"  said  he  tenderly,  "  you  say  that  I  do  not  love  you. 
You  have  not  then  read  my  heart — which  "filled'  to  bursting  with  love 
for  my  beautiful  wife,  dared  not  ask  for  response,  because  I  had  been 

told  that  you — you But  no — I  will  not  pain  you  with  repetition  of 

the  calumny.  Enough  that  1  am  blessed  with  your  love,  and  may  at 
]ast  be  permitted  to  pour  out  the  torrent  of  mine  ! — Antoinette  will  yea 
be  my  wife  ?"  •  • 

He  held  open  his  arms  and  looked — as  lovers  alone  can  look.  The 
Queen  well  knew  the  meaning  of  that  glance,  and  with  a  cry  of  joy,  she 
rose  and  was  pressed  to  his  heart.  He  held  her  for  some  moments 
there,  and  then  for  the  first  time  in  their  lives,  the  lips  of  husband  and 
wife  met  in  one  long,  burning  kiss  of  love. 

"  My  beloved,  ray  own,"  whispered  Louis.  •'  Mine  forever — Noth- 
ing on  earth  shall  part  us  now." 

Marie  Antoinette  was  speechless  with  happiness.  She  leaned  her 
head  upon  her  husband's  breast  and  wept  for  joy,  while  he  fondly  strok- 
ed and  kissed  her  shining  hair,  and  left  the  trace  of  a  tear  with  every 
kiss. 

Presently  he  turned  an  imploring  look  upon  the  Emperor,  who  stood 
by  contemplating  the  lovers  with  an  ecstacy  to  which  he  had  long  been 
a  stfanger. 

*'  My  brother," :^aid  Louis,  "  for  I  may  call  you  so  now, — seven  years' 
ago,  our  hands  were  joined  together  by  the  priest,  but  the  policy  that 
would  have  wounded  Austria  through  me,  has  kept  us  asunder.  This 
is  our  wedding-day,  this  is  the  union  of  love  with  love.  Be  you  the 
priest  to  bless  the  rites  that  make  us  one  till  Seath." 

The  Emperor  came  forward,  and  solemnly  laying  his  hands  upon  the 
heads  of  the  King  and  Queen,  spoke  in  broken  accents  : 

"  God  bless  you,  beloved  brother  and  sister, — God  give  you  grace  to 
be  true  to  each  other  through  good  and  evil  report.  Be  gentle  and  in- 
dulgent one  towards  the  other,  that,  from  this  day  forward,  your  two 
hearts  may  become  as  one.  Farewell !  I  shall  take  with  me  to  Aus- 
tria the  joyful  news  of  your  happiness.  Oh,  how  Maria  Theresa  will 
rejoice  to  know  it,  and  how  often  will  the  thought  of  this  day  brighten 
my  own  desolate  hearth  at  Vienna  !     Farewe}] ! " 


WiiiilJ'.  AiMiarvKi  ih,  J, 


CHAPTER  XV. 

DEATH    OF    THE    ELECTOR    OF    BAVARIA. 

A  large  and  brilliant  assemblage  thronged  the  state  apartments  of  the 
imperial  palace  at  Vienna.  The  aristocracy  not  only  of  the  capital,  but 
of  all  Austria  had  gathered  there  to  congratulate  the  Emperor  upon  his 
safe  return.  It  was  th^iiftit  of  January,  1778,  and  as  New  Year's  day 
was  the  only  festival  which  Joseph's  new  ordinance  allowed,  the  court 
took  occasion  to  celebrate  it  with  all  the  pomp  of  embroidery,  orders, 
stars,  and  blazing  jewels. 

The  Empress  had  never  thrown  off  her  mourning,  so  that  her  dark 
gray  dress  with  its  long  train,  was  in  striking  contrast  with  the  rich,  ele-' 
gant*  costumes,  the  flowers  and  diamonds  of  the  other  ladies  present. 
Still,  there  was  something  in  this  tall,  noble  form  which  distinguished  it 
above  the  rest,  and  spoke  to  all  beholders  of  the  sovereign  will  that  re- 
sided there.  Maria  Theresa  was  still  the  Majestic  Empress — but  she 
was  now  an  old  woman. 

Time  as  well  as  disease  had  marred  her  beauty,  and  the  cares,  anxie- 
ties and  afflictions  of  sixty  years  had  written  their  inexorable  record  up- 
on the  tablet  of  her  once  fair  brow.  Not  only  these,  but  accident  also 
had  des^roj^ed  the  last  lingering  traces  of  Maria  Theresa's  youthful  come- 
liness. Returning  from  Presburg,  she  had  been  thrown  from  her  carri- 
age and  dashed  with  such  force  against  the  stones  on  the  road,  that  she 
had  been  taken  up  bloody  and  to  all  appearances  lifeless.  Her  face  had 
suffered  severely,  and  to  her  death  she  bore  the  deep  red  scars  which  had 
been  left  by  her  wounds.  Her  figure,  too,  had  lost  its  grace,  and  was 
now  so  corpulent,  that  she  moved  slowly  and  heavily  through  the  rooms, 
where  in  former  years,  she  had  stood  by  the  side  of  her  "  Francis,"  the 
most  beautiful  woman  of  her  own  or  of  any  other  European  Court. 

Her  magnificent  eyes,  however,  had  defied  time — they  were  large, 
flashing,  expressive  as  ever — as  quick  to  interpret  anger,  enthusiasm,  or 
tenderness  as  in  the  days  of  her  youth.  On  the  evening  of  wliich  we 
spsak,  the  Empress  was  at  the  card-table ;  but  those  great,  glowing  eyes 
were  roving  from  one  side  of  the  room  to  the  other  in  restless  anxiety. 
Sometimes  for  a  moment  they  rested  upon  the  Emperor  who  was  stand- 
ing near  the  table  in  conversation  with  some  provincial  noblemen.  Tho 
cheerful  and  unconcerned  demeanor  of  her  son  seemed  the  to  reassure 
the  Empress,  who  turned  to  her  cards,  and  tried  to  become  interested  ia 
the  game.  Not-far  ofi",  the  Archduchesses,  too,  were  at  cards,  and  the 
hum  of  conversation  subsided  almost  to  a  whisper  that  the  imperial  party 
ial<'lit  iKit   bo  disturbed,     (.iraduallv  the   Eniprefis  became  ab^^orbed  in 


Ob  ,U)SE1'H    I'Hh  <KCOM; 

her -cards,  so  f.hat,  she  was  unobservant  of  the  entrance  of  one  of  the 
Emperor's  lords  in  waiting,  who  whispered  something  iu  Joseph's  ear, 
whereupon  the  latter,  left  the  room  in  haste. 

Not  very  long  after,  the  Emperor  returned  pale  and  excited,  and  ap- 
proached the  card-tables.  Maria  Theresa  at  that  moment  had  just  re- 
quested Count  Dietrichst^in  to  deal  for  her,  and  she  was  leaning,  back  in 
her  chair  awaiting  the  end  of  the  deal.  The  Emperor  bent  over  and 
whispered  something  in  her  ear,  when  she  started,  and  the  cards  which 
she  was  just  gathering,  fell  from  her  hands.  With  unusual  agility  she 
rose,  and  taking  the  Emperor's  arm,  turned  away  without  a  word  of 
apology,  and  left  the  room. 

The  Archduchesses  had  not  yet  perceived  their  mother's  absence,  when 
Co'unt  Dietricnstein,  on  the  part  of  the  Empert>r|fcame  forward  and  whis- 
pered a  few  words  to  each  one  of  them.  Precisely  as  their  mother  had 
done,  the  Princesses  rose,  and  without  apology,  retired  together.  The 
company  started  and  whispered  and  wondered  what  could  have  happened 
to  discompose  the  imperial  family,  but  no  one  present  was  competent  to 
solve  the  mystery. 

Meanwhile,  Maria  Theresa  had  retired  to  her  cabinet  where  she  met 
Prince  Kaunitz,  furred  like  a  polar  bear,  by  way  of  protection  from  th^ 
temperature  of  the  palace,  which  was  always  many  degrees  below  zero, 
as  indicated  by  the  thermometer  of  his  thin,  bloodless  veins.  The  Min- 
ister was  shaking  with  cold,  although  he  had  buried  his  face  in  a  muff 
large  enough  to  have  been  one  of  his  own  cubs. 

The  Empress  returned  his  greeting  with  an  agitated  wave  of  her  hand, 
and  seated  herself  in  an  arm  chair  at  the  large  roi>nd  table  that  always 
stood  there.  Exhausted  by  the  unusual  haste  with  which  she  hjid  walk- 
ed, as  well  as  by  the  excitement,  which,  in  her  old  age,  she  was  physically 
inadequate  to  bear,  she  leaned  back  to  recover  her  breath.  Opposite 
stood  the  Emperor,  who,  with  a  wave  of  his  hand,  motioned  to  Kaunitz 
to  enter  also. 

Maria  Theresa's  large  eyes  were  fixed  upon  him  at  once.  "Is it  true," 
said  she,  "  that  the  Elector  of  Bavaria  is  dead  ?" 

"  Yes,  your  Majesty,"  said  Kaunitz,  "  Maximilian  reigns  no  longer  in 
Bavaria.     Here  are  the  dispatches  from  our  Ambassador  at  Munich." 

He  held  them  out,  but  the  Empress  put  them  back  *iying,  "  I  am  not 
sufiiciently  composed  to  read  them.  Give  them  to  my  son  and  have  the 
goodness  to  communicate  their  contents  to  rae,  verbally." 

The  face  of  Kaunitz  grew  pale  as  he  turned  with  the  dispatches  to  the 
Emperor.  The  latter  at  once  comprehended  the  Prince's  agitation,  and 
smiled. 

"I  beg  of  your  Majesty,"  said  he,  "  to  excuse  the  Prince  and  to  allow 
me  to  read  to  you  the  particulars  of  Maxmilian's  demise.  His  High- 
ness must  be  fatigued,  and  doubtless  your  Majesty  will  allow  him  to 
retire  within  the  embrasure  of  yonder  window  until  I  have  concluded  the 
perusal  of  the  dispatches." 

Kaunitz  brightened  at  once  as  the  Empress  gave  her  consent,  and  he 


MAKit;  ANioiNhriTii  ;j9 

• 

gladly  withdrew  to  the  window  which  w^as  far  enough  from  the  tiible  to 
be  out  of  reach  of  the  Emperor's  voice.  Joseph  could  r.ot  restrain  an- 
other smile  as  he  watched  the  tall,  stift'form  of  the  old  Prince,  and  saw 
how  carefully  he  drew  the  window-curtains  around  hiin,  lest  a  word  of 
what  was  going  on  should  r^ach  his  ears. 

"Pardon  uie,  your  Majesty,"  ssid  Joseph  in  a  low  voice,  "hut  you 
know  what  a  horror  Kaunitz  has  of  death  and  the  small-pox.  As  both 
these  words  form  the  subject  of  our  dispatches,  1  was  glad  to  relieve  the 
Prince  from  the  necessity  of  repeating  their  contents." 
.  ''  That  you  should  have  reinembered  his  weakness,  does  honor  to  your 
heart,  my  son,"  replied  Maria-Theresa.  "  In  my  agitation  I  had  forgot- 
ten it.     Maximilian,  then,  must  have  died  of  small-pox." 

"'  He  did,  your  Majesty,  like  his  sister,  my  unhappy  wife." 

"  Strange  !"  said  Maria  Theresa,  thoughtfully.  "  Josepha  has  often 
spoken  to  me  of  the  presentiment  which  her  brother  had,  that  he  would 
die  of  the  small-pox." 

"  It  proves  to  us  that  man  cannot  fly  from  .his  destiny.  The  Elector 
foresaw  that  he  would  die  of  small-pox,  and  took  every  precaution  to 
avert  his  fate.     Nevertheless,  it  overtook  him." 

The  Empress  sighed  and  slowly  shook  her  head.  "Where  did  he  take 
the  infection?"  asked  she.  ♦ 

"  From  the  daughter  of  the  marshal  of  his  household,  who  lived  at  the 
palace  and  took  the  small-pox  there.  Every  attempt*was  made  to  con- 
ceal the  fact  from  the  Elector,  and  indeed  he  reaiained  in  total  ignorance 
of  it.  One  day  while  he  was  playing  billiards,  the  marshal  who  had  just 
left  his  daughter's  bedside,  entered  the  room.  The  Elector  shuddering, 
laid  down  his  cue,  and  turning  deathly  pale,  murmured  these  words, 
'  Some  one  here  has  the  small-pox.  I  feel  it.'  He  then  fell  insensible 
to  the  floor.  He  recovered  his  consciousness,  but  died  a  few  days  after- 
wards.* This  is  the  substance  of  the  dispatches.  Shall  I  now  read 
them  ?" 

"  No,  no,  my  son,"  said  the  Empress  gloomily.  "Enough  that  the 
son  of  my  enemy  is  dead,  and  his  house  without  an  heir." 

"  Yes,  he  is  dead,"  replied  Joseph  sternly.  "The  brother  of  my  enemy 
— of  that  wife  with  whom  for  two  years  1  lived  the  martyrdom  of  an 
abhorred  union !  He  has  gone  to  his  sister,  gone  to  his  father,  both  our 
bitter,  bitter  foes.  I  hated  Josepha  for  the  humiliation  I  endured — as 
the  husband  of  such  a  repulsive  woman — but  to-day  I  forgive  her,  for 
'tis  she,  who  from  the  grave  holds  out  to  me  the  rich  inheritance  which 
is  the  fruit  of  our  marriage." 

The  Empress  raised  her  eyes  with  an  expression  of  Alarm. 

"  What !"  exclaimed  she,  "  another  robbery  !  Lies  not  the  weight  of 
one  injustice  upon  jny  conscience,  that  you  would  seek  to  burthen  my 
soul  with  another  !  Think  you  that  I  have  forgotten  Poland  !— No  ! 
The  remembrance  of  our  common  crime  will  follow  me  to  the  bitter  end^ 
and  it  shall  not  be  aggravated  by  repetition.     I  am  Empress  of  Austria, 

•  'Wraxall :  Memolres  of  the  Court*  of  Berlin,  Yiennn.  etc.    Vol.  1 ,  P.  80fl. 


t>U  JOSEPH  THL  JiECUNJ) 

and  wlillo  J  live,  Joseph,  you  must  restrain  your  ambition  within  the 
bounds  of  justice  and  prhicely  honor." 

The  Emperor  bowed.  "  Your  Majesty  must  confess  that  I  have  never 
struggled  against  your  imperial  will.  I .  have  bowed  before  it,  sorely 
though  it  has  humiliated  me.  But  as  there  is  no  longer  any  question 
of  death  before  us,  allow  me  to  recall  Prince  Kaunitz  that  he  may  take 
part  in  our  discussion." 

Maria  Theresa  bowed. in  silence,  and  the  Emperor  drew  the  Minister 
from  his  retreat  behind  the  curtains. 

"  Come,  your  Highness,"  whispered  Joseph.  "  Come  and  convince 
the  Empress  that  Bavaria  must  be  ours.  We  are  about  to  have  a 
struggle." 

"  But  I  shall  come  out  victor,"  replied  Kaunitz,  as  he  rose  and  return- 
ed to  the  table. 

Maria  Theresa  surveyed  them  both  with  looks  of  disapprobation  and 
apprehension.  "  I  see,"  said  she  in  a  tremulous  voice,  "that,  you  are 
two  against  one.  I  do  not  think  it  honorable  in  Kaunitz  to  uphold  my 
son  against  his  sovereign.  Tell  me,  Prince,  do  you  come  hither  to  break 
your  faith,  and  overthrow  your  ^impress  ?" 

"There  lives  not  man  or  woman  in  the  world,  who  cnn  accuse  Kau- 
nitz of  bad  faith,"  replied  the  Prince.  "  I  swore  years  ago  to  dedicate 
myself  to  Austria,  and  I  shall  keep  my  word  until  your  Majesty  re- 
leases me."  » 

V  i  suppose  that  is  one  of  your  numerous  threats  to  resign,"  said  the 
Empress  with  irritation.  "  if  there  is  difference  of  opinion  between  us, 
I  must  yield,  or  you  will  not  remain  my  Minister.  But  be  sure  that  to 
the  last  day  of  my  life,  I  shall  retain  my  sovereignty,  nor  share  it  with 
son  or  minister  ;  and  this  conceded,  we  may  confer  together.  Let  the 
Emperor  sit  by  my  side,  and  you.  Prince,  be  opposite  to  us,  for  I  wish 
to  look  into  your  face  that  I  may  judge  how  far  your  tongue  expresses 
the  convic3tions  of  your  conscience.  And  now  I  desire  the  Emperor  to 
explain  his  words  and  tell  me  how  it  is  that  the  succession  of  Bavaria 
concerns  the  House  of  Hapsburg." 

"  Frankly  then,"  cried  Joseph  with  some  asperity,  "  I  mean  that  our 
troops  must  be  marched  into  Bavaria  at  once  ;  for  by  the  extinction  of 
the  male  line  of  Wittelsbach,  the  Electorate  is  open  to  us  as  an  impe- 
rial fief  and " 

"  Austria  then  has  pretensions  to  the  Electorate  of  Bavaria,"  interrup- 
ted Maria  Theresa  with  constrained  calmness. 

The  Emperor  in  his  turn  looked  at  his  mother  with  astonishment. 
"  Has  your  Majesty  then  not  read  the  documents  which  were  drawn  up 
for  your  inspection  by  the  court  historiographer  f 

"  1  have  seen  them  all,"  replied  the  Empress  sadly.  "  I  have  read  all 
the  documents  by  which  you  have  sought  to  prove  that  Austria  has 
daims  upon  X.ower  Bavatia,  because,  in  1410,  the  Emperor  Sigismund 
enfeoffed  his  son-in-law,  Albert  of  Austria,  with  this  province.  I  have 
.'•ead  further  that  in  1614  the  Emperor  Matthias  gave  to  the  Archducal 


UAKIE  AiNTOlKETTE.  61 

House  the  reversion  of  the  Suabian  estate  of  Mindelhcim,  which  subsc- 
queiitly,  in  1706,  when  the  Elector  of  Bavaria  fell  under  the  ban  of  the 
Empire,  was  actually  claimed  by  the  Emperor  of  Austria.  I  have  also 
learned  that  the  Upper  Palatinate  with  all  its  counties,  by  the  extinction 
of  the  Wittelsbach  dynasty,  becomes  an  open  feoff,  to  which  the  Empe- 
)or  of  Austria  thinks  that  he  may  assert  his  claims."' 

"And  your  Majesty  is  not  convinced  of  the  validity  of  my  claims?" 
exclaimed  the  Emperor. 

Aiaria  Theresa  shoek  her  head.  "  I  cannot  believe  that  wc  are  justi- 
lied  in  annexing  to  Austria  an  Electorate,  which  not  being  ours  by  ?"»- 
disputable  right  of  inheritance,  may  be  the  cause  of  involving '  us  in  a 
bloody  war." 

"  But  which,  nevertheless,  is  the  finest  province  in  all  Gerrdany,"  cried 
Joseph  impatiently,  "and  its  acquisition  the  first  step  towards  consoli- 
dation of  all  the  German  principalities  into  one  great  empire.  When  the 
Palatinate  Suabia  and  Lower  Bavaria  are  ours,  the  Danube  will  flow 
through  Austrian  territory  alone ;  the  trade  of  the  Levant  becomes  ours  ; 
our  ships  cover  the  Black  Sea,  and  finally  Constantinople  will  be  com- 
pelled to  open  its  harbor  to  Austrian  shipping  and  become  a  mart  for 
the  disposal  of  Austrian  merchandize.  Once  possessed  of  Bavaria,  South 
Germany,  too,  lies  open  to  Austria,  which  like  a  magnet  will  draw  to- 
wards one  centre,  all  its  petty  provinces  and  counties.  After  that,  we 
approach  Prussia  and  ask  whether  she  alone  Avill  stand  apart  from  the 
great  Federation,  or  whether  she  has  patriotism  and  magnanimity  enough 
to  merge  her  name  and  nationality  in  ours.  Oh,  your  Majesty,  I  im- 
plore you  do  not  hesitate  to  pluck  the  golden  fruit,  for  it  is  ours !  Think, 
too,  how  anxiously  the  Bavarians  look  to  us  for  protection  against  the 
pretensions  of  Charles  Theodore,  the  only  heir  of  the  deceased  Elector. 
The  people  of  Bavaria  well  know  what  is  to  be  their  fate  if  they  fall  in- 
to the  hands  of  the  Elector  Palatine.  Surrounded  by  mistresses  with 
swarms  of  natural  children,  his  sole  object  in  life  will  be  to  plunder  his 
subjects  that  he  may  enrich  a  progeny  to  whom  he  can  leave  neither 
name  nor  crown.  Oh,  your  Majesty,  be  generous,  and  rescue  the  Bava- 
rians from  a  war  of  succession,  for  the  Elector^Palatiue  has  no  heir,  and 
his  death  will  be  the  signal  for  new  strife." 

*'Nay  it  seems  to  me  that  the  duke  of  Zwcibriicken*  is  the  natural 
heir  of  Charles  Theodore,  and  I  suppose  he  will  be  found  as  willing  to. 
possess  his  inheritance  as  you,  or  I,  or  any  other  pretender,"  replied  Maria 
Theresa.  "  But  if,  as  you  say,  the  Bavarians  are  sighing  to  become  Aus- 
trian subjects,  it  seems  to  mc  that  they  might-have  character  enough  to 
give  us  some  indication  of  their  predilections,  for  I  declare  to  you  both 
that  I  will  not  \imitate  the  treachery  of  Frederic — I  will  not  bring  up 
mouldy  documents  from  our  imperial  archives  to  prove  that  I  have, a 
right  to  lands  which  for  hundreds  of  years  have  been  the  property  of  an- 
other race ;  nor  will  I,  for  mad  ambition's  sake,  spill  one  drop  of  honest 
Austrian  blood." 

'CaHed  in  KnKKsta  Bistory.  Dulc«orDcnx-pooU.    [Tran*.     * 


62  JOSEPH  THE  SECONV 

"  x\nd  so  shall  Austria  lose  her  birthright,"  i;eturned  Joseph  angrily. 
"  And  so  shall  I  be  doomed  to  idle  insignificance  while  History  ignores, 
the  only  man  who  really  loves  Germany,  and  who  has  spirit  to  defy  the 
malice  of  his  cotemporaries  and  in  the  face  of  their  disapproval  to  do  that 
which  is  best  for  Germany's. welfare.  Is  it  possible  that  your  Majesty 
will  put  upon  rae  this  new  humiliation  ?  Do  you  really  bid  me  renounce 
the  brightest  dream  of  my  life  V 

"  My  dear  son,"  said  the  Empress,  ''I  cannot  view  this  undertaking 
■with  your  eyes — I  am  old  and  timid,  and  I  shudder  with  apprehension 
of  the  demon  that  follows  in  the  wake  of  ambition.  I  would  not  descend 
to  my  grave  amid  the  wails  and  curses  of  my  people — I  would  not  be 
depicted  in  history  as  an  ambitious  and  unscrupulous  sovereign. — rLel 
me  go  to  my  Pranz  blessed  by  the  tears  and  regrets  of  my  subjects — let 
me  appear  before  posterity  as  an  upright  and  peace-loving  Empress. — 
But  I  have  said  that  I  am  old — so  old  that  I  mistrust  my  own  judgment. 
It  may  be  that  I~  mistake  pusillanimity  for  disinterestedness.  Speak 
Kaunitz — so  far  you  have  been  silent.  What  says  your  conscience  to 
this  claim  1     Is  it  consistent  with  justice  and  honor?" 

"  Your  Majesty  knows  that  I  will  speak  my  honest  convictions  even 
though  they  might  be  unacceptable  to  the  ear  of  my  Sovereign,"  replied 
Kaunitz. 

"  I  understand,"  said  the  Empress  disconsolately.  "  You  are  of  one 
mind  with  the  Emperor." 

"  Yes,"  replied  Kaunitz,  "  I  am.  It  is  the  duty  of  Austria  to  assert 
her  right  to  an  inheritance  which  her  ancestors  foresaw  hundreds  of  years 
ago,  would  be  indispensable  to  her  future  stability.  Not  only  your 
Majesty's  forefathers,  but  the  force  of  circumstances  signify  to  us  that 
the  acquisition  is  natural  and  easy.  It  would  be  a  great  political  error 
to  overlook  it;  and  believe  me  that  in  no  science  is  an  error  so  fatal  to 
him  who  commits  it,  as  in  the  science  of  government.  Bavaria  is  neces- 
sary to  Austria,  and  your  Majesty  may  become  its  ruler  without  so  much 
as  one  stroke  of  the  sword." 

"  Without  a  stroke  of  the  sword !"  exclaimed  Maria  Theresa  impetu- 
ously. "  Does  your  Hi^ness  suppose  that  such  a  stupendous  acquisi- 
tion as  that,  is  not  to  provoke  the  opposition  of  our  enemies  ?" 

"  Who  is  to  oppose  us  ■?"  asked  Kaunitz,  "  Not  France,  certainly ; 
.she  is  too  closely  our  relative  and  ally." 

"  I  do  not  rely  much  upon  the  friendship  of  France,"  interrupted  the 
Empress,  "  Marie  Antoinette  is  mistress  of  the  King's  affections,  but 
•his  ministers  guide  his  policy,  and  they  would  gladly  see  our  friendly  re- 
lations ruptured." 

"  But  France  is  not  in  a  condition  to  oppose  us,"  continued  Kaunitz. 
"  Her  finances  are  disordered,  and  at  this  very  moment  she  is  equipping 
an  army  to  aid  the  American  rebellion.  We  have  nothing  to  fear  from 
Russia,  provided  we  overlook  her  doings  in  Turkey,  and  look  away 
while  she  absorbs  the  little  that  remains  of  Poland.  England  is  too  far 
away  to  \)0  interested  in  the  matter,  and  Frederic  knows  l\v  dear- 


MAKIE  AiNTOlNKTlK.  03 

bought  expei-ience  that  her  alliance,  in  case  of  war,  is  perfectly  worth- 
less. Besides,  Georjxe  has  quite  enough  on  his  hands  with  his  troubles 
in  North  America.  Who  then  is  to  prevent  us  from  marchinji;  to  Bava- 
ria and  taking  peaceable  possession  of  our  lawful  inheritance?" 

"  Who  V  exclaimed  the  Empress.  "  Our  greatest  and  bitterest  ene- 
my— the  wicked,  and  unprincipled  jyarveiiu  who*  has  cost  me  so  many 
tears,  my  people  so  many  lives,  and  who  has  rubbed  me  of  one  of  the 
fairest  jewels  in  my  imperial  crown." 

Kaunitz  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  Your  Mojesty  is  very  magnani- 
mf)us  to  speak  of  the  Margrave  of  Brandenburg  as  a  dangerous  f<ie.  ' 

"  And  if  he  were  a  dangerous  foe,"  cried  Joseph  vehemently,  "  so 
much  the  more  glory  to  me  if  I  vanquish  him  in  battle  and  pluck  the 
laurels  from  his  head  !" 

Kaunitz  looked  a^  the  Emperor  and  slightly  raised  his  finger  by  way 
of  warning.  "The  King  of  Prussia,"  said  he,  "is  no  longer  the  hero 
that  he  was  in  years  gone  by  ;  he  dare  not  risk  his  fame  by  giving  bat- 
tle to  the  Emperor.  He  rests  upon  his  laurels,  plays  on  the  flute,  writes 
bad  verses,  and  listens  to  the  adulation  of  his  fawning  philosophical 
friends.  Then  why  should  he  molest  us  in  Bavaria? — We  have  docu- 
ments to  prove  that  the  heritage  is  ours,  and  if  we  recognise  his  right  to 
Bayreuth  and  Anspach,  he  will  admit  ours  to  whatever  we  choose  to 
claim." 

Maria  Theresa  was  unconvinced.  "  You  make  light  of  Frederic,,Prince, 
but  he  is  as  dangerous  as  ever,  and  after  all  1  think  it  much  safer  to  fear 
our  enemies  than  to  despise  them." 

"  Frederic  of  Prussia  is  a  hero,  a  philosopher  and  a  legislator,"  cried. 
Joseph.  "  Let  me  give  him  battle  your  Majesty,  that  I  may  win  honor 
by  vanquishing  the  victor." 

"Never  will  I  give  my  consent  to  such  measures,  unless  we  are  forced 
to  adopt  them  in  defence  of  right." 

"  Our  right  here  is  indisputable,"  interposed  Kaunitz.  "  Copies  of 
our  documents  have  already  been  circulated  throughout  Germany,  and  I 
have  received  from  Herr  Von  Kitter,  the  commissioner  of  Charles  Theo- 
dore, the  assurance  that  the  latter  is  ready  to  resign  his  pretensions  in 
consideration  of  the  advantages  we  offer." 

"  What  are  these  advantages  ?"  asked  Maria  Theresa. 

"  We  ofler  him  our  provinces  in  the  Netherlands,  and  the  privilege  of 
establishing  a  kingdom  in  Burgundy,"  replied  Joseph.  "  We  also  be- 
stow upon  his  multitudinous  children  titles,  orders  and  a  million  of  flo- 
rins." 

"  And  shame  all  virtue  and  decency !"  cried  the  Empress,  coloring 
violently. 

"  The  Elector  loves  his  progeny  and  cares  little  or  nothing  for  Bava- 
ria," continued  Joseph.  "  We  shall  win  him  over,  and  Bavaria  will 
certainly  be  o\irs." 

*'  Without  the  shedding  of  one  drop  of  blood,"  added  Kaunitz,  drawing 
from  his  coat  pocket  a  paper  which  he  unfolded  and  laid  uj)on  the  table. 


64  JOSEPH  THE  8EC0ND. 

"Here  is  a  map  of  Bavaria,  your  Majesty,"  said  Kaunitz,  " and  here 
is  that  portion  of  the  Electorate  which  we  claim  through  its  cession  to 
Albert  of  Austria  by  the  Emperor  Sigismund." 

"  We  must  take  possession  of  it  at  once,"  cried  Joseph,  "  at  once  be- 
fore any  other  claimant  has  time  to  interpose." 

The  Empress  heaved  a  sigh.  "  Yes,"  said  she,  as  if  communing  with 
herseH"  "it  all  looks  smooth  and  fair  upon  paper.  It  is  very  easy  to 
draw  boundary  lines  with  your  fmger.  Prince.  You  have  traced  out 
mountains  and  rivers,  but  you  have  not  won  the  hearts  of  the  Bavarians, 
and  without  their  hearts  it  is  worse  than  useless  to  occupy  their  country." 

"  We  shall  win  their  hearts  by  kindness,"  exclaimed  the  Emperor. 
"  True,  we  take  their  insignificant  Fatherland,  but  we  give  them  instead, 
the  rich  inheritance  of  our  own  nationality  ;  and  future  history  will  re- 
cord it  to  their  honor  that  theirs  was  the  initiatory  step  which  subse- 
quently made  one  nation  of  all  the  little  nationalities  of  Germany." 

The  Empress  answered  with  another  sigh  and  looked  absently  at  the 
outspread  map,  across  which  Kaunitz  was  drawing  his  finger  in  another 
direction. 

"  Here,"  said  he,  "  are  the  estates  which  the  extinct  house  held  in  fief 
from  the  German  Emperor." 

"  And  which  I,  as  Emperor  of  Germany  have  a  right  to  re->annex  to 
my  empire,"  cried  Joseph. 

"  And  here  finally,"  pursued  Kaunitz  still  tracing  with  his  finger,  "  hero 
is  the  Lordship  of  Miudelheim,  of  which  the  reversion  was  not  only 
ceded  to  Austria  by  the  Emperor  Matthias,  but  actually  fell  to  us  and 
w^as  relinquished  to  the  Elector  of  Bavaria  by  the  too  great  magnanimi- 
ty of  an  Austrian  sovereign. — Surely  your  M&jesty  is  not  willing  to 
abandoh  your  inheritance  to  the  first  comer'?" 

Maria  Theresa's  head  was  bent  so  low  that  it  rested  upon  the  map 
"whereon  her  Minister  had  been  drawing  lines  of  such  significance  to  Aus- 
tria. Close  by,  stood  the  Emperor  in  breathless  anxiety,  while  opposite 
sat  Kaunitz,  impassible  as  ever. 

Again  a  deep  sigh  betokened  the  anguish  that  was  rending  the  honest 
heart  of  the  Empress,  and  she  raised  her  head. 

"Alas  for  me  and  my  declining  energies,"  said  she  bitterly.  "Two 
against  one  and  that  one  a  woman  advanced  in  years ! — I  am  not  con- 
vinced, but  ray  spirit  is  unequal  to  strife.  Should  we  fail,  we  will  be 
made  to  feel  the  odium  of  our  proceedings,  should  we  triumph,  I  suppose 
that  the  justice  of  our  pretensions  will  never  be  questioned.  Perhaps  as 
the  world  has  never  Ijlamed  Frederic  for  the  robbery  of  Silesia,  it  may 
forgive  us  the  acquisition  of  Bavaria.  In  the  name  of  God,  then,  do  both 
of  you  what  you  deem  it  right  to  do ;  but  in  mercy,  take  nothing  that 
is  not  ours.  We  shall  be  involved  in  war ;  1  feel  it,  and  I  would  so  glad- 
ly have  ended  nfiy  life  in  the  calm  moon-like  radiance  of  gentle  peace.* 

"  Your  Majesty  shall  end  your  life  in  peace  and  prosperity,  but  far  in 
the  fulmre  be  the  day  of  your  departure  !"  cried  Joseph,  kissing  the  hand 
♦  The  Empress's  own  eentimcnta.    Wraxall,  1,  X^.  311. 


MARIE  AMOINETIE.  65 

of  the  Empress.  "  May  you  live  to  see  Austria  expand  into  a  great 
empire,  and  Germany  rescued  from  the  misrule  of  its  legions  of  feeble 
princes! — The  first  impulse  has  been  given  to-day.  Bavaria  is  rescued 
from  its  miserable  fate,  and  becomes  an  integral  portion  of  one  of  the 
most  powerful  nations  in  Europe.'" 

"  May  God  be  merciful  and  bless  the  union,"  sighed  the  Empress. 
"I  shall  be  wretched  until  I  know  how  it  is  to  terminate,  and  day  and 
night  I  shall  pray  to  the  Lord  that  He  preserve  my  people  from  the  hor- 
rors of  war," 

"  Meanwhile  J^aunitz  and  I  will  seek  a  blessing  on  our  enterprise  by 
taking  earthly  precautions  to  secure  its  success.  You,  Prince,  will  use 
the  quill  of  diplomacy,  and  I  shall  make  ready  to  defend  my  right  with 
a  hundred  thousand  trusty  Austrians  to  back  jne.  To  night  1  march  a 
portion  of  my  men  into  Lower  Bavaria.'' 

"  Oh,"  murmured  the  unhappv  Empress,  "  there  will  be  war  and 
bloodshed." 

"  Before  your  Majesty  marches  to  Bavaria,"  said  Kaunitz,  inclining 
his  head,  "  her  Majesty,  the  Empress,  must  sign  the  edict  which  shall 
apprize  her  subjects  and  the  world  of  the  step  we  meditate.  I  have 
drawn  it  up,  and  it  awaits  her  Majesty's  approbation  and  signature." 

The  Prince  then  drew  from  his  muff  a  paper  which  he  presented  to 
the  Empress.     Maria  Theresa  perused  it  with  sorrowful  eyes. 

*'It  is  nothing  but  a  resume  of  our  just  claims  to  Bavaria,"  said  Jo- 
seph hastily. 

"  It  is  very  easy  to  prove  the  justice  of  a  thing  on  paper,"  replied 
Maria  Theresa,  "  may  God  grant  that  it  prove  to  be  so  in  deed  as  well 
as  in  word.  I  will  do  your  bidding  and  sign  your  edict,  but  upon  your 
head  be  the  blood  that  follows  my  act !" 

She  wrote  her  name,  and  Joseph,  in  an  outburst  of  triumph,  shouted, 
"  Bavaria  is  ours !" 


CHAPTER   XVI.  ^ 

A  PAGE  FROM  HISTORV. 


Maria  Theresa's  worst  apprehensions  were  realised,  and  the  march- 
ing of  the  Austrian  troops  into  Bavaria,  was  the  signal  for  war.  While 
all  the  petty  sovereigns  of  Germany  clamored  over  the  usurpation  of 
Austria,  pamphlet  upon  pamphlet  issued  from  the  hands  of  Austrian  ju- 
rists to  justify  the  act.  These  were  replied  to  by  the  advocates  of  eve- 
ry other  German  state,  who  proved  conclusively  that  Austria  was  rapa- 


66  JOSEPH  THE  SECOND. 

cious  and  unscrupulous,  and  had  not  a  shadow  of  right  to  the  Bavarian 
succession.  A  terrible  paper  war  ensued,  during  which  three  hundred 
•  books  were  launched  by  the  jbelligerants  at  each  other's  heads,*  This 
strife  was  productive  of  one  good  result;  it  warmed  up  the  frozen  pat- 
rioiisni  of  all  the  German  races.  Bavarians,  Hessians,  Wurten'jberger/^ 
and  Hanoverians,  forgot  thejir  bickerings  to  join  the  outcry  against  Aus- 
tria; and  the  Church,  to  which  Joseph  was  such  an  implacable  enemy, 
encouraged  them  in  their  rejfsistance  to  the  "  innovator,"  as  he  was  called 
by  his  enemies. 

©f  all  the  malcontents,  taie  noisest  were  the  Bavarians.  The  Elector 
Palatine,  whose  advent  all  had  dreaded,  was  greeted  upon  his  entrance 
into  Munich  with  glowing 'enthusiasm;  and  the  people  forgot  his  extra- 
vagance and  profligacy  to  lemember  that  upon  him  devolved  the  preser- 
vation of  their  independence  as  a  nation. 

But  Charles  Theodore  was  very  little  edified  by  the  sentiments  which 
were  attributed  to  him  by  the  Bavarians,  He  longed  for  nothing  better 
than  to  relieve  himself  of  Bavaria  and  the  weight  of  Austrian  displeas- 
ure, to  return  to  the  Palatinate  and  come  into  possession  of  the  flesh- 
pots  that  awaited  his  children  in  the  form  of  titles,  orders  and  florins. 
He  lent  a  willing  ear  to  Joseph's  propositions,  and  a  few  days  after  his 
triumphant  entrance  into  Munich,  he  signed  a  contract  relinquishing  in 
favor  of  Austria  two  tliirds  of  his  Bavarian  inheritance.  Maria  Theresa, 
in  the  joy  of  her  heart,  bestowed  upon  him  the  order  of  the  golden  fleece, 
and  on  the  third  of  January  of  1778,  entered  into  possession  of  her  new- 
ly acquired  territory-. 

Meanwhile  in  BaV'aria  arose  a  voice  which,  with  the  fire  of  genuine 
patriotism,  protested  against  the  cowardly  compliance  of  the  Elector 
Palatine.  It  was  t)iat  of  the  Duchess  Clemens  of  Bavaria,  She  hasten- 
ed to  give  informatjion  of  his  pussillanimity  to  the  next  heir,  the  Duke 
of  Zweibrucken,  an<!l  dispatched  a  courier  to  Berlin  asking  succor  and 
protection  from  the  crown  of  Prussia. 

The  energy  of  this  Bavarian  patriot  decided  the  fate  of  the  Austrian 
claim.  The  Duke  of  Zweibrucken  protested  against  the  cession  of  the 
smallest  portion  of  his  future  inheritance,  and  declared  that  he  would 
never  relinquish  Ho  to  any  power  on  earth.  Frederic  pronounced  himself 
ready  to  sustain  the  Duke,  and  threatened  A  declaration  of  war  unless 
the  Austrian  troops  were  removed.  In  vain,  Maria  Theresa  sought  to 
indemnify  the  Duk^by  offers  of  orders,  florins  and  titles,  which  had  been 
so  successful  with  Charles  Theodore — in  vain  she  offered  to  make  him 
King  of  Burgundy — he  remained  incorruptible.  He  coveted  nothing 
she  could  bestow,  but  was  firm  in  his  purpose  to  preserve  the  integrity 
of  Bavaria,  and  called  loudly  for  Frederic  to  come  to  the  rescue. 

Frederic  responded.  "  He  was  ready  to  defend  the  rights  of  the 
Elector  Palatine  against  the  unjust  pretensions  of  the  Court  of  Vienna,"f 
and  removed  his  troops  from  Upper  Silesia  to  the  confines  of  Bohemia 

*  ScMosser's  Hi'itory  of  the  Eighteenth  Century.    Vol.  4,  pagr*!  868. 
'  liohTn'!"  Mpinolrs,  vn\  ^ ,  page  ''. 


MARIB  ANTOINBTTE.  67 

and  Saxony.  That  was  the  signal  for  the  advance  of  the  Austrian  ar- 
my, and  despite  her  repugnance  to  the  act,  Maria  Theresa  was  compell- 
ed to  suffer  it.  She  was  al^o  forced  to  allow  Joseph  to  take  command 
in  person.  This  time  her  representations  and  entreaties  had  been  vairi  ; 
Joseph  was  thirsting  for  military  glory,  and  he  bounded  like  a  war-horse 
to  the  trumpet's  call.  The  Empress  lelt  that  her  hands  were  now  pow- 
erless to  restrain  him,  and  she  was  so  much  the  feebler,  that  Kaunitz 
openly  espoused  the  side  of  the  ambitious  Emperor. 

With  convulsive  weeping  Maria  Theresa  saw  her  son  assume  his  com- 
mand, and  when  Joseph  bade  her  farewell,  she  satik  insensible  from  his 
arras  to  the  floor. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

THB  EMPEROR  AS  COMMANDER-IN-CHIEF. 

The  Emperor  Joseph  was  pacing  the  floor  of  his  cabinet.  Sometimes 
he  paused  before  a  window  and  with  absent  looks  surveyed  the  plain 
where  his  troops  were  encamped,  and  their  stacked  arms  glistened  to  the 
sun ;  then  he  returned  tR  the  table  where  Field-marshal  Lacy  was  deep 
in  plans  and  charts. 

Occasionally  the  silence  was  broken  by  the  blast  of  a  trumpet  or  the 
shouts  of  the  soldiery  who  were  arriving  at  head  quarters. 

"  Lacy,"  said  the  Emperor  after  a  long,  dreary,  pause,  "put  by  j'our 
charts,  and  give  me  a  word  of  consolation." 

The  Field-marshal  laid  aside  his  papers  and  rose  from  the  table. 
"  Your  Majesty  had  ordered  me  to  specify  upon  the  chart  the  exact  spot 
which  Frederic  occupies  by  Welsdorf,  and  Prince  Henfy  by  Nienberg." 

"  I  know,  I  know,"  answered  Joseph  impatiently.  "  But  what  avails 
their  encampment  to-day  when  to-morrow  they  are  sure  to  advance?" 

"  Your  Majesty  thinks  that  he  will  make  an  attack  *?" 

"I  am  sure  of  it." 

"  And  1  doubt  it.     It  is  my  opinion  that  he  will  avoid  a  collision.^V 

"  Why  then  should  he  have  commenced  hostilities  ?"  cried  Joseph  an- 
grily. "  Have  you  forgotten  that  although  the  Elector  Palatine  is  ready 
to  renounce  Bavaria,  Frederic  opposes  our  claims  in  the  name  of  Ger- 
nffany  and  of  the  next  heir  ?" 

"  No,  sire,  but  Frederic  has  spies  in  Vienna,  who  have  taken  care  to 
inform  him  that  Maria  Theresa  is  disinclined  to  war.  He  has  therefore 
declared  against  us  because  he  hopes  that  the  blast  of  his  coming  will 
suflice  to  scatter  the  armies  of  Austria  t,n  the  winds." 


gg  JOSEPH  THE  SECOND.  ' 

«  The  time  has  gone  by  when  the  terror  of  his  name  could  appal  us," 
cried  Joseph,  proudly  throwing  baclc  his  head.  "  I  hope  to  convince  him 
ere  long  that  1  am  more  than  willing  to  confront  him  in  battle.  Oh, 
how  weary  is  the  inactivity  to  which  my  mother's  womanish  fears  con- 
demn me !  Why  did  I  heed  her  tears,  and  promise  that  I  would  not 
make  the  attack  ?  Now  I  must  wait,  nor  dare  to  strike  a  blow,  while 
my  whole  soul  yearns  for  the  fight,  and  I  long  either  to  lead  my  troops 
to  victory,  or  perish  on  the  field  of  battle." 

"  And  yet,  sire,  it  is  fortunate  that  you  have  been  forced  to  inactivity. 
To  us  time  is  everything,  for  Frederic's  army  outnumbers  ours.  He 
has  seventy  thousand  men  with  him  near  the  Elbe,  and  fifty  thousand 
under  Prince  Henry  near  Nienberg." 

"  Yes,  but  I  shall  oppose  his  hundred  and  twenty  thousand  men  with 
twice  their  number,"  cried  Joseph  impatiently. 

"  Provided  we  have  time  to  assemble  our  men.  But  we  must  have 
several  days  to  accomplish  this.  At  the  end  of  a  week,  our  army  will 
be  complete  in  numbers  and  we  can  then  await  the  enemy  behind  our 
entrenchments  and  the  natural  defences  afforded  us  by  the  steep  banks 
of  the  Elbe."       ' 

"  Await— nothing  but  await,"  said  Joseph  scornfully.  "  Forever  con- 
demned to  delay."  >!■      •       r 

"  In  war,  delay  is  often  the  best  strategy,  sire.  The  great  Maurice  ot 
Saxony  has  said  that  fighting  is  an  expedient  by  which  incompetent 
commanders  are  accustomed  to  draw  themselves  out  of  dlfiicult  posi- 
tions. When  they  are  perplexed  as  to  their  next  move,  they  are  apt  to 
stumble  into  a  battle.  I  coincide  with  the  great  Captain,  although  I 
well  know  that  I  shall  incur  your  Majesty's  displeasure  thereby.  Our 
policy  is  to  remain  upon  the  defensive  and  await  an  attack.  Erederic 
has  been  accustomed  to  win  his  laurels  by  bold  and  rapid  moves,  but 
we  have  now  for  us  an  ally  who  will  do  better  service  iti  the  field 
against  him  than  ouf  expertest  generalship."  ^ 

"  Who  is  that?"  asked  Joseph,  who  was  listening  in  no  amiable  mood 
to  Lacy's  dissertation  on  strategy.  , .    u     j  •   x 

"  It  is  old  age,  sire,  which  hourly  reminds  Frederic  that  his  hand  is  too 
feeble  to  wield  a  sword  or  pluck  new  laurels.  Frederic  accompamed  his 
army  in  a  close  carriage,  and  yesterday,  as  he  attempted  to  mount  his 
horse,  he  was  so  weak  that  he  had  to  be  helped  into  the  saddle,  in  con- 
sequence  of  which  he  reviewed  his  troops  in  an  ill-humor,  cursed  the  war, 
and  wished  Austria  to  the  devil."    .  «     .3  t      \     ji 

""And  this  is  the  end  of  a  great  military  chieftain,  said  Joseph  sadly, 
_«the  close  of  a  magnificent  career!  May  God  preserve  me  from 
such  a  fate!  Sooner  would  I  pass  from  exuberant  life  to  sudden  death, 
than  drag  my  effete  manhood  through  years  of  weariness  to  gradual  *id 
ignominious  extinction !" 

«  But "  continued  the  Emperor,  after  a  pause,  these  are  idle  mu. 
siuffs  Lacy.  Your  picture  of  the  great  Frederic  has  made  me  melan- 
.holy  ■  I  cannot  but  hope  that  it  is  overdrawn.     It  cannot  be  that  such  a 


MAKit   AiNlULNETit..  (,«, 

»  warrior  has  grown  vacillating;  he  will  surely  awake,  and  then  the  old 
lion  will  shaiie'his  mane,  and  his  roar " 

At  this  moment  a  horseman  at  full  speed  was  seen  coming  towards 
the  house.  He  stopped  immediately  before  the  window.  A  little  be- 
hind came  another,  and  both  di.smouffting,  spoke  several  words,  to  the 
soldiery  around,  which  evidently  produced  a  sensation. 

"  Lacy,"  said  Joseph,  something  has  happened,  and  from  the  counte- 
nances of  the  men,  I  fear  that  these  messengers  have  brought  evil  ti- 
dings.    Let  us  go  out  and  see  what  has  occurred." 

As  the  Emperor  was  about  to  lay  his  hand  upon  the  door,  it  opened 
and  one  of  his  Adjutants  appeared. 

"Sire,"  said  he,  almost  breathless,  "a  courier  has  arrived  from  the 
borders  of  Bohemia  and  he  brings  startling  uitelligence." 

"  Tell  us  at  once  what  it  is,"  said  the  Emperor. 

"The  King  of  Prussia  has  left  the  county  of  Glatz  and  has  marched 
into  Bohemia." 

The  Emperor's  face  brightened  instantaneously.  "  That  is  Morious 
news !"  cried  he. 

"  Glorious  news,  sire  ?"  exclaimed  the  astounded  Adjutant.  "  The 
courier  who  brings  the  intelligence  has  no  words  strong  enough  to  de- 
pict the  terror  of  the  inhabitants.  They  were  gathering  their  effects 
and  flying  to  the  interior,  while  the  Prussian  troops  occupied  the  villa- 
ges without  opposition." 

"  The  Coiuit  is  correct,"  said  Lacy,  who  just  then  re-entered  the  room. 
"  I  have  spoken  with  the  man  who  brought  the  tidingj;.  He  is  the 
Mayor  of  his  village,  and  he  fled  as  the  StaflTof  the  Emperor  entered 
the  place." 

"  I  must  speak  with  him  myself,"  cried  Joseph  quickly^  and  the  Ad- 
jutant opening  the  door,  the  villager  was  introduced  into  the  room." 

"  Did  you  see  the  King  of  Prussia  ?"  asked  the  Emperor. 

"  Yes,  sire,  1  saw  him,"  replied  the  man,  gloomily.  "  I  heard  him  or- 
der his  men  to  forage  their  horses  from  our  barns,  and  to  strip  our  gar- 
dens of  their  fruit  and  vegetables.  I  heard  him  give  orders  to  spare  no- 
thing, for,  said  he,  '  the  people  must  be  made  to  feel  that  the  enemy  is  in 
their  midst.'  "* 

"  I  shall  remember  the  King's  words,"  said  Joseph,  while  his  eyes 
flashed  with  anger.     "  How  did  he  look?" 

"  Like  the  devil  in  the  likeness  of  an  old  man,"  said  the  peasant. 
"  His  voice  is  as  soft  as  that  of  a  bride-groom  ;  but  his  words  are  the 
words  of  a  hangman,  and  his  eyes  dart  tire  like  those  of  an  evil  spirit. 
Even  his  own  men  have  nothing  good  to  say  of  him.  His  Generals 
call  him  a  selfish  old  man,  who  wants  to  do  every  thing  and  knows  no- 
thing. He  has  not  even  appointed  a  general  stalf,  and  has  no  one  to  at- 
tend to  the  wants  of  his  army."f  m 

"Further,  further,"  cried  Joseph,  as  the  man  paused. 

•Preaerlc'8  own  words.    Dohm's  Memoirs.    Vol.  1,  P.  180. 
t  Historical— See  Dohnj,  Vol.  l,  p.  1«8. 


70  ;lost;i'ti  nit:  skcuwd 

"  J  have  nothiog  furtheij  to  frolJ,  sire.  As  the  King  and  his  people  left 
my  house,  it  was  growing  dark,  so  1  slipped  out.  '  The  curates  were  in. 
the  churches  with  the  woirten  and  children^  and  we  men  ran  to  the  next 
village,  where  the  people  gave  us  horses,  and  I  have  come  to  entreat  the 
Emperor  not  to  let  the  Kiag  of  Prussia  take  us,  as  he  did  Silessia." 

"I  give  you  my  word  that  you  shall  not  be  given  over  to  Prussia. 
Remain  true  to  your  country,  and  oppose  the  enemy  whenever  and 
wherever  you  can.     Go  back  to  your  village,  greet  your  friends  for  me 

and  promise  them  my  protection Count,  be  so  good  as  to  see  that 

these  men  get  some  refreshment  before  they  start." 

The  Adjutant  bowed,  and  followed  by  the  villager,  left  the  room. 

"  Lacy,"  cried  the  Emperor,  "  the  time  for  deliberation  has  gone  by. 
The  hour  for  decision  has  struck  and  I  am  free  to  give  battle.  It  is  Fred- 
eric who  has  thrown  down  the  glove,  and  I  too  shall  emerge  from  ob- 
scurity and  prove  to  the  world  that  others  besides  the  King  of  Prussia 
are  worthy  to  lead  thftir  men  to  victory.  It  would  be  dishonorable  to 
refuse  the  challenge,  he  has  sent  through  his  invasion  of  Bohemia.  Let 
orders  be  given  to  march  to  Jaromirs.  We  shall  await  the  enemy  there, 
and  there  at  last  I  shall  measure  swords  with  the  greatest  captain  of  his 
aee  !" 


CHAPTER-  XVIII. 

SECRET   NEGOTIATIONS   FOR   PBA.CE. 

Since  the  departure  of  the  Emperor  for  the  seat  of  war,  the  Court  of 
Vienna  had  been  supremely  dull.  All  the  state  apartments  were  closed, 
the  gentlemen  and  ladies  in  waiting  -went  aboutvsilent  as  ghosts,  the 
Archduchesses  were  pale  and  sad,  and  the  Empress  disconsolate,  spent 
all  her  days  in  the  solitude  of  her  own  apartments. 

Not  only  at  Court,  but  in  the  city,  were  alf  sounds  of  joy  hushed  into 
speechless  anxiety.  Above  all,  since  it  had,become  known  that  Frederic 
had  invaded  Bohemia,  the  Viennese  were  in  a  state  of  painful  excite- 
ment, convinced  as  they  were  that  the  warlike  King  would  never  stop 
his  marches  until  they  brought  him  to  the  gates  of  Vienna. 

Finally  the  panic  reached  the  palace.  The  rich  were  conveying  their 
treasures  to  places  of  security,  and  the  Archduchesses  and  ladies  of  hon- 
or were  importunin§ji|yie  Empress  to  leave  Vienna  and  remove  the  Court 
to  Presburg.* 

Maria  Theresa  turned  a  deaf  ear  to  these  entreaties.    Her  eyes  which 

•  Dohra'B  M«nioiPi.  Vo).  ].  p.  18T, 


MAttlE  AiNUihMiri'K  /  | 

had  grown  dull  through  weeping,  flashed  with  defiant  courage  as  she  replied, 

"  1  remain  herein  Vienna,  •and  if  the  King  of  Prussia  lays  seige  to  my 
capital,  I  shall  die  like  an  Empress  in  imperial  panoply,  and  rot  like  a 
fugitive  who  basely  abandons  her  crowij,  for  the  sake  of  the  few  short 
days  that  remain  to  her  on  earth  ! — I  have  never  known  what  it  was  to 
fear  for  my  life,  and  if  now  my  heart  Ihrobswith  uneasiness,  'tis  for  my 
people,  'tis  not  for  myself.  I  mourn  for  the  fate  of  my  subjects,  should 
Heaven  ifc  its  wrath  permit  Frederic  to  prevail.  For  this  it  is  that,  my 
life  is  spent  in  seclusion  and  prayer.  Come,  my  daughters,  come  ladies 
all,  let  us  betake  ourselves  to  the  house  of  God." 

And  leaning  upon  the  arms  of  the  Archduchesses  Elizabeth  and  Chris- 
tina, the  Empress  proceeded  to  the  chapel.  Behind  them  with  down- 
oast  eyes  and  reluctant  steps,  came  the  ladies  of  the  Court,  all  of  one 
mind  as  to  the  weariness  of  too  much  godliness  and  too  n.uch  praying. 

"  When  will  the  Empress's  private  chapel  be  completed  ?"  whispered 
one  of  the  ladies  to  another.  "  When  will  this  daily  martyrdom  cease? 
Is  it  not  too  bad  to  be  forced  to  church  five  times  a  day." 

"You  may  thank  fortune  for  your  headache  yesterday.  It  was  my 
turn  to  accompany  the  Empress  to  the  chapel,  and  we  stayed  so  long 
that  the  Archduchess  Elizabeth  told  me  that  towards  the  end  her  senses 
began  to  fail  her,  and  she  was  scarcely  able  to  utter  the  responses.  How 
is  the  Archduchess  Mariana  to-day  ?" 

"  Her  Highness,"  whispered  the  first  lady,  "  is  too  pensible  to  recover 
in  a  hurry.  The  wound  in  her  cheek  has  re-opened,  and  she  really  suf- 
fers a  great  deal  at  present.  But  she  bears  her  pain  with  great  fortitude. 
Yesterday  the  English  Ambassador  was  paying  heravisit  of  condolence, 
and  as  he  was  expressing  his  sympathy,  the  Archduchess  interrupted  hinti 
with  a  laugh,  '  Believe  me,'  said  she,  '  for  a  princess  of  forty  who  is 
an  old  maid,  even  a  hole  in  her  own  cheek  is  a  godsend.  Nothing  that 
varies  the  dull  uniformity  of  my  life,  comes  amiss.'  "* 

Both  ladies  tittered,  but  perceiving  that  the  Empress  was  turning  her 
head,  they  resumed  their  sanctimonious  faces  and  folded  their  hands. 

"  Was  it  you,  ladies,"  said  Maria  Theresa  with  severity,  "  w^ho  were 
interrupting  our  solemn  silence  by  frivolous  whisperings?" 

"  Yes,  your  Majesty/'  replied  the  first  lady  of  honor.  ".We  were 
preparing  ourselves  for  prayer  by  edifying  conversation." 

The  Empress  smiled  kindly  upon  the  speaker.  "  I  know  that  you  are 
inclined  to  religion,"  said  she,  "  and  I  am  glad  that  yon  have'had  so 
good  an  induence  over  the  Countess  Julia  ;  for  she  is  not  wont  to  be  too 
zealous  at  prayer.  I  will  remember  you  both  for  your  piety,  dear  chil- 
dren,, and  will  see  that  you  are  both  well  married.  There  is  the  young 
Baron  of  Palmoden  and  Count " 

But  thi  Empress,  who,  in  her  darling  schemes  of  marriage,  had  forgot- 
ten for  s  moment  whither  they  were  going,  suddenly  crossed  herself, 
saying,  '■  Forgive  me  ladies ;  let  us  hasten  our  steps." 

•  The  A'chd'icheH-H  own  words.  See  Conrta  of  BuTope  at  the  cl<i8e  of  the  last  centnry.  By 
Henry  Swnbiirne,  Vol.  1.  p.  842.  ^     'y 


72  JuaEfM  mii  skcunu, 

On  this  day,  the  Empress  remained  for  three  hours  in  the  chapel,  and 
•while  her  attendants,  worn  out  by  ennui,  were  some  sleeping,  or  others 
whispering  to  keep  themselves  awake,  Maria  Theresa,  before  the  altar, 
was  on  her  knees,  praying  with  ail  the  fervor  of  her  honest  and  believ- 
ing soul.  As  she  prayed,  she  heaved  many  a  sigh,  and  many  a  tear  fell 
unheeded  from  her  eyes  upon  her  tightly  clasped  hands. 

Certainly  her  prayers  proved  consolatory,  for  when  they  were  ^ded, 
she  rose  from  her  knees,  calm  and  resolved.  As  she  reached  the  door 
of  her  own  room,  she  turned  to  her  favorite  daughter. 

"  Is  your  heart  still  disconsolate,  Christina'?"  said  she  with  a  look  of 
supreme  tenderness. 

"  How  can  it  be  otherwise,  my  mother,"  said  Christine  sabbing. 
"  Has  not  my  cruel  and  avaricious  brother  forced  my  husband  into  this 
wicked  war  1  Oh,  dearest  mother,  if  you  would  but  speak  the  word. 
Albert  might  be  relieved  from  the  disgraceful  contingency  of  appearing 
in  arms  against  his  native  land  !  He  has  no  alternative — he  must  either 
become  a  traitor  to  his  own  country,  or  perjure  himself  by  deserting  his 
colors.  Oh,  your  Majesty,  have  mercy  upon  your  subjects,  and  force 
the  rapacious  Emperor  to  forego  his  unjust  claims,  and  obey  your  im- 
perial commands." 

"Dry  your  tears,"  my  daughter,  replied  the  Empress  kissing  her  ten- 
derly, "  1  have  prayed  so  fervently  for  wisdom  in  this  matter  that  I  feel 
as  if  ray  prayers  had  been  answered.  What  He  has  commanded,  1  will 
do,  and  may  His  grace  strengthen  and  guide  me  !  Hope  for  the  best 
my  child,  and  do  not  speak  so  unkindly  of  your  brother.  He  is  not  as 
cruel  as  you  represent  him,  he  has  always  been  a  dear,  obedient  son,  and 
I  trust  fmay  find  him  so  to  the  end.  Go  now,  Christina,  and  remember 
that  God  directs  all  things." 

The  Empress  dismissed  her  daughters  and  entered  her  room,  passing 
rapidly  to  the  place  where  hung  the  portrait  of  the  Emperor  Francis. 
Eor  a  long,  long  while  she  looked  at  it  without  anything  but  a  vague 
yearning  to  be  united  to  her  adored  husband.  Einally,  as  was  her  cus- 
tom, she  began  to  speak  to  it. 

"  Franz,  I  have  prayed  from  my  soul  for  light.  It  seems  to  me  that 
God  has  spoken,  but  oh,  my  darling,  if  what  1  am  about  to  do  is  unwise, 
whisper  me  one  word  of  warning  and  I  shall  be  passive.  ^  Sometimes  I 
think  that  you  visit  me,  beloved,  and  whisper  words  of  angelic  sweet- 
ness in  my  ear.  Speak  now,  my  Franz,  speak  if  I  am  wrong — I  will 
obey  your  voice." 

She  clasped  her  hands  and  looked  imploringly  at  the  picture.  Final- 
ly she  sighed.  "  Your  dear  face  still  smiles  upon  me,"  murmured  she, 
"  and  I  must  believe  that  I  have  decided  for  the  best.     1  will  act." . 

So  saying,  she  rang  her  bell,  and  a  page  answered  the  summons. 

"Send  hither  my  private  Secretary,  and  let  a  carriage  be  di^atched 
for  Baron  Thugut.     I  wish  to  see  him  immediately."  \ 

A  few  moments  afterwards,  Koch  made  his  appearance,  and  aJialf  aa 
hour  after  a  page  announced  Baron  Thugut.  \ 


AlAKlt  AWTOlNliriK.  73 

*'  Baron,"  said  the  Empress,  "  I  wish  to  put  a  serious  question  to  you 
— Remernber  that  God  hears  you,  and  answer  me  without  reservation." 

"  Your  Majesty  has  forgotten,"  replied  Thugut,  "  that  I  haves  been  so 
long  in  the  Kingdom  of  unbelief  that  I  am  an  unbeliever  myself.  I  do 
not  know  whether  God  hears  me  or  not,  but  as  I  know  that  jour  Majes- 
ty exacts  of  me  to  be  candid,  I  shall  obey  your  fommands."   . 

"  Then  tell  me  what  is  your  opinion  of  the  war  of  the  Bavarian  suc- 
cession.    Do  you  think  it  an  equitable  one  ?" 

The  Baron's  small  black  eyes  turned  from  the  Empress  to  the  Secre- 
tary.    Maria  Theresa  understood  the  glance. 

"  Speak  without  reserve.  Baron  Koch  is  loyal,  abd  knows  all  my  se- 
crets.    Do  you  think  then  that  our  claims  to  Bavaria  are  just?" 

"Just,  your  Majesty"?"  repeated  Thugut  in  his  sharp,  cutting  tones. 
"  Their  success  or  their  failure  must  decide  that  question.  He  who  wins, 
will  have  proved  his  right.  If  we  succeed  in  holding  Bavaria,  Germany 
will  uphold  us  ;  for  Germany  never  raises  her  voice  against  a  fait  ac- 
compli. .Should  Frederic  unhappily  defeat  us,  not  only  Germany  but 
all  Europe  will  cry  out  against  the  greed  and  injustice  of  ambitious 
Austria." 

"  I  do  not  wish  to  expose  myself  to  this  contingency,"  replied  the 
Empress.  "  I  must  have  peace  with  God,  the  world,  and  my  conscience, 
and  you  must  come  to  my  assistance,  Thugut." 

An  ironical  smile  played  over  Thugut's  face.  "  With  God  and  your 
Majesty's  conscience,  I  would  be  a  poor  mediator,"  said  he,  "  but  to- 
wards the  world  I  am  ready  to  serve  your  Majesty  in  any  shape  or 
form." 

"  Then  you  shall  mediate  between  myself  and  Frederic." 

"  Between  your  Majesty  and  the  King  of  Prussia,"  said  Thugut,  as- 
tonished. 

The  Empress  nodded  her  head,  and  just  then  the  door  opened,  admit- 
ting a  page  who  handed  two  letters  on  a  golden  plate. 

"  The  answer  of  Prince  Gallitzin,"  said  he  bowing  and  retiring. 

Maria  Theresa  opened  the  letters  which  were  unsealed,  saying,  "  Now 
we  have  everything  requisite.  Here  is  a  passport  for  you  as  private 
Secretary  to  the  Russian  Ambassador ;  and  here  is  a  letter  which  you 
are  to  bear  from  Gallitzin  to  the  King.  This  is  the  pretext  of  your  visit 
to  Frederic." 

"  And  the  real  motive  is " 

"You  will  find  it  in  the  lettei:  which  I  shall  entrust  to  you  for  Wm. 
Read  my  letter  aloud,  Koch." 

The  Secretary  read  as  follows : 

"  Fit)m  the  recall  of  Baron  Von  Reidsel  and  the  marching  of  your 
Majesty's  troops  into  Bohemia,  I  perceive  with  profoundest  sorrow,  that 
we  are  on  the  eve  of  another  war.  My  age  and  sincere  love  of  peace, 
are  known  to  all  the  world,  and  I  can  give  no  greater  proof  of  this  love, 
than  I  do  by  writing  to  your  Majesty.     My  maternal  heart,  too,  is  sore 


74  lO^fcKJti    IKK  tfhiOOiNlJ. 

ly  grieved  with  the  thought  that  1  have  two  sods  and  a  beloved  ^on  in- 
law in  the  army.  I  have  taken  this  step  without  the  knowledge  of  the 
Emjperor,  and  whatever  its  result,  I  exact  that  it  shall  remain  a  secret 
between  us.  It  is  my  desire  to  resume  the  negotiations  which  were  brok- 
en off  by  my  sou.  Barou  Thugut  who  will  deliver  this  into  your  Majes- 
ty's hands,  has  received  my  instructions  and  is  empowered  to  treat  with 
you.  While  1  trust  that  your  Majesty  may  deem  it  consistent  with  our 
common  dignity  to  meet  my  wishes  in  this  matter,  1  hope  that  you  also 
correspond  to  the  earnest  desire  which  I  cherish  for  a  continuation  of 
friendly  relations  with  your  Majesty,  and  with  this  hope  I  remain, 
Your  Majesty's  affectionate  sister  and  cousin, 

Mabia  Theresa.* 
■    • 

"  Your  Majesty  wishes  me  to  bring  about  a  peace.  But  what  sort  of 
peace,  asked  Thugut.     A  conditional  one,  or  peace  at  any  price  ?" 

Maria  Theresa's  eyes  flashed  fire.  .  "Is  Austria  so  weak  that  she  should 
crave  peace  at  any  price  ?"  cried  she  proudly. 

"  No,  indeed,  your  Majesty,  she  seems  on  the  contrary  so  powerful  that 
she  undertakes  war  at  any  price.  But  Bavaria  is  well  worth  a  war  with 
Prussia.  Allow  me  one  more  question.  What  is  the  Emperor  to  do 
•with  his  army  while  we  negotiate  1" 

"  They  must  await  the  result.  I  have  written  to  Leopold  to  use  all 
his  influence  to  reconcile  Joseph,  for  he  will  be  indignant  when  he  hears 
what  I  have  done.  But  until  it  becomes  evident  that  we  cannot  treat 
with  Frederic,  the  Emperor  and  his  generals  must  remain  passive. 
Should  1  fail,  my  son  may  then  give  battle,  while  his  mother  intercedes 
for  him.  If  the  medicine  of  diplomacy  fails  this  time,  we  shall  have  to 
resort  to  the  knife  to  heal  our  political  wounds." 

"  Your  Majesty  is  right,  said  Thugut  with  a  heartless  laugh."  When 
medicine  fails,  we  use  the  cold  steel,  and  if  that  is  not  enough,  fire  is 
the  last  resort.  What  are  your  Majesty's  conditions  with  Prussia,  medi- 
cine, iron,  or  fire  ?"f 

"  Balsam,  I  trust,"  replied  the  Empress.  "  Koch  has  drawn  out  my 
propositions ;  and  now  go  and  make  your  preparations  to  depart,  for  I 
long  for  peace  with  the  whole  world." 

•  This  letter  was  written  in  the  French  language  and  is  to  be  found  In  Gross-HofBnger'B  Life  and 
History  -^f  th«  reign  of  Joseph  2d,  Vol.  4,  P.  39. 

tThugut's  own  application  of  the  old-fashioned  method  of  cure.  Bee  Hormayer's  Contributions 
to  the  History  of  my  Fatherland. 


MARlt  ANTOIJSEITK  l.j 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

FRATERNAI.    DISCORD. 

Vert  different  were  the  preparations  making  by  the  Empress's  war- 
lilve  son.  In  company  with  .Lacy  and  his  staff,  he  hnd  reviewed  his 
troops  for  the  last  time,  and  had  ridden  from  one  end  of  their  encamp- 
merjt  to  the  other,  that  he  might  personally  inspect  the  condition  of  his 
army.  He  had  found  it  cheerful,  spirited  and^eager  foT  the  fray,  the  of- 
ficers assuring  him  that  their  men  were  impatient  to  meet  the  enemy 
and  end  the  campaign  by  one  decisive  blow. 

Even  Lacy  himself  ceased  to  preach  cairtion.  He  saw  in  th6  tri- 
umphant smile  and  flashing  eyes  of  Joseph  that  cownsel  would  be  worse 
than  useless,  and  warning  would  only  drive  him  to  some  deed  of  mad 
daring  which  might  peril  his  life,  or  the  safety  of  his  army.  The  Em- 
peror himself  had  planned  the  attack,  and  his  generals  had  approved  hia 
strategy. 

On  the  olher  side  of  the  Elbe  was  the  King  of  Prussia  afraid  to  cross, 
lest  the  Austrian  army,  from  their  secure  heights  on  the  opposite  shore, 
should  annihilate  his  troops  as  they  attempted  the  passage.  But  what 
Frederic  hesitated  to  undertake,  Joseph  was  resolved  to  accomplish. 
He  had  determined  to  cross  the  Elbe  and  force  the  King  to  give  him 
battle.  His  columns  were  to  move  under  cover  of  night,  to  ford  the 
river  below,  and  by  rapid  marches  to  reach  the  Prussian  army  at  break 
•f  day.  * 

"  We  shall  be  victorious,  I  feel  it,"  said  the  Emperor  to  Lacy  on  their 
return  from  the  encampment.  "  I  have  a  joy  within  my  heart  that  is 
the  forerunner  either  of  victory  or  of  death." 

"  Of  death !"  echoed  Lacy  with  surprise.  "  Does  your  Majesty  mean 
to  say  that  man  can  encounter  death  joyfully  ?" 

"  Why  tiot  f  said  the  Emperor.  "  When  ii  man  dies,  has  he  not  won 
the  long  and  bloody  battle  of  life  ?" 

"These  are  disconsolate  words  to  fall  from  your  lips,  sire.  To  you, 
life  must  present  a  bright  array  of  hopes  and  useful  deeds  ;  none  butau 
old  and  decrepid  man  should  take  such  gloomy  views  of  the  world." 

"  I  have  suffered  as  much  as  older  men,  Lacy,"  returned  the  Emperor, 
laying  his  hand  upon  his  friend's  shoulder.  "But  all  m^ sufferings  are 
forgotten  in  the  anticipated  joy  of  the  morrow.  Let  the  dead  past  bury 
its  dead,  the  birth  of  my  happiness  is  at  hand.  I  shall  no  more  rest  my 
title  to  the  world's  homage  upon  the  station  ta  w^hich  1  was  born.  It 
shall  know  at  last  that  I  am  worthy  to  be  the  friend  of  Lacy  and  of  Lou- 
don.    All  the  years  that  have  intervened,  have  never  yet  sufficed  to 


7t)  JOSEPH  VHt,  SKCOJND. 

blot  out  the  remembrance  of  that  fearful  day  on  which  the  Empress  re- 
called the  consent  she  had  given  for  me  to  meet  Frederic  in  the  field. 
I  have  never  looked  upon  my  mother  since  without  feeling  the  wound 
re-open.  But  to-day  I  can  forgive  her;  I  can  even  forgive  the  hated 
priests  who  were  the  cause  of  my  misfortune ! — Lacy  I  love  the  whole 
world,  I " 

The  Emperor  interrupted  himself  to  stare  with  astonishment  at  the 
figure  of  a  man  who  just  then  had  opened  the  door. 

"  The  Grand  Duke  of  Tuscany  !"  exclaimed  Lacy. 

"  My  brother  Leopold !"  murmured  Joseph  in  alow,  tremulous  voice, 
but  without  rising  from  his  seat,  or  offering  his  hand, 

A  cloud  passed  over  the  pale,  sickly  face  of  the  Grand  Duke,  and  the 
smile  vanished  from  his  lips. 

"  Your  Majesty  does  not  invite  me  to  enter  ?"  asked  he  reproachfully. 
"  You  do  not  bid  me  welcome?" 

The  Emperor  gazed,  upon  his  brother  in  silence,  and  Leopold  shrank 
from  the  keen  and  searching;  glance  of  Joseph's  inquiring  eyes. 

"  My  brother,"  cried  the  Emperor  suddenly,  "  you  have  come  hither 
to  bring  me  some  evil  tidings," 

"  I  have  come  to  greet  your  Majesty  and  to  enjoy  a  few  hours  of  fami- 
ly intercourse  with  you,^'  replied  the  Grand  Duke,  while  without  await- 
ing the  courtesy  which  Joseph  would  not  extend,  he  closed  the  door  and 
advanced  into  the  room. 

"  No,  no,"  cried  the  Emperor,  '^  that  is  false.  We  are  not  such  a  pair 
of  loving  brothers  that  you  should  seek  me  for  affection's  sake."  And 
approaching  Leopold  as  he  spoke,  he  stopped  j  ust  before  him  and  con- 
tinued, 

"  I  implore  of  you,  be  generous  and  tell  me  what  you  want.  You 
have  letters  from  the  Empress,  have  you  not  ?" 

"  I  have.     I  have  not  only  letters  from  our  imperial  mother  to  deliver 

to  your  Majesty,  but  I  am  also  the  bearer  of  verbal  messages  but " 

•  "  But  what  ?"  cried  Joseph  as  Leopold  paused. 

"  But  I  must  request  of  your  Majesty  to  grant  me  a  private  interview.". 

"  With  his  Majesty's  permission,  I  shall  withdraw,"  said  Lacy. 

Joseph  inclined  his  head  and  as  Lacy  disappeared,  he  turned  his  eyes 
once  more  upon  the  pale,  embarrassed  countenance  of  his  ufl welcome 
relative. 

-  "  Now  we  are  alone,"  said  he,  breathing  fast — "now — but  no  !  Give 
me  one  moment  to  collect  my«strength.  My  God,  what  evil  has  the 
Empress  in  store  for  me  now,  that  she  should  select  you  as  the  messen- 
ger of  her  cruelty !  Peace — I  do  not  wish  to  hear  your  voice,  until  I 
am  ready  to  hear  its  discordant  sounds  !" 

"  I  await  your  commands,"  replied  Leopold  with  a  respectful  inclina- 
tion. 

The  Emperor  crossed  the  room  several  times  forth  and  back. 

His  cheeks  were  blanched,  his  mouth' quivered,  while  quick  and  gasp- 
ing came  the  breath  from  his  heaving  chest. 


MAKIE   ANTOINEITE."  77 

"  Air,  air  !"  eaid  he  in  a  stifled  voice.  "  I  shall  suffocate !"  He  ap- 
proached the  window,  and  leaning  far  out,  inhaled  the  cold  winter  blast, 
whose  icy  breath  was  welcome  to  his  hot  and  fevered  head.  After  a 
while,  he  closed  the  window  and  turned  to  his  brother  who  with  folded 
arms  still  stood  near  the  door, 

"  Now,"  said  Joseph  gloomily,  "  I  am  ready  to  hear.  Speak  out  your 
infernal  errand." 

"  I  must  first  beg  pardon  of  your  Majesty  if  the  intelligence  .which  I 
am  compelled  to  communicate,  is  unwelcome,"  began  LeopoJ^  in  a  de- 
precating voice. 

Joseph  cast  a  rapid  searching  look  athwart  the  perplexed  face  of  his 
brother.  "  You  are  forgiven,"  replied  he  contemptuously.  "'Your  mes- 
sage seems  to  be  punishment  enough  of  itself,  if  I  judge  by  your  coun- 
tenance. Let  us  be  quick  then,  and  be  done  with  one  another.  Give 
me  the  letter,  and  say  at  once  what  you  have  to  say." 

The  Grand  Duke  took  from  his  coat-pocket  a  sealed  dispatch  which 
he  delivered  to  the  Emperor. 

"  Here  are  the  letters  of  the  Empress,  but  she  ordered  me  to  accom- 
pany them  with  a  few  words  explanatory  of  her  motives.  She  commis- 
sioned me  to  tell  what  she  found  it  difficult  to  write." 

"  She  was  afraid,"  muttered  Joseph. 

"Yes,  she  was  afraid  to  commit  an  injustice,"  returned  Leopold. 
"  She  was  afraid  to  offend  her  Maker  by  continuing  a  war  whose  object 
was  to  break  one  of  His  holy  commandments " 

"  Oh,  my  brother,"  interrupted  Joseph  sarcastically,  "  you  are  yourself 
again — I  recognise  the  dutiful  son  of  the  priests  who  denounce  me  be- 
cause I  would  disturb  them  in  their  comfortable  Bavarian  nest.  I  see, 
plainly  that  if  I  should  be  so  unfortunate  as  to  fall  to-morrow  on  the 
battle-field,  you  will  throw  yourself  into  the  arms  of  Frederic  and  of 
that  frantic  Amazon,  the  Duchess  Clemens,  beg  pardon  for  my  sins,  and 
hand  over  the  fairest  portion  of  Germany  to  Pope  and  Jesuits.  -Oh 
what  a  favorite  you  would  become  with  the  black-coats  !  Doubtless 
they  would  give  you  absolution  for  all  the  sins  you  are  accustomed  to 
commit  against  your  wife. — But,  my  virtuous  brother,  I  shall  outlive  the 
morrow,  that  I  promise  you,  and  shall  gain  such  a  victory  over  Frederic 
as  will  astound  you  and  the  whole  Popedom." 

"  You  were  about  to  give  battle  to  Frederic  1" 

"  I  am  about  to  do  sq,"  replied  Joseph  defiantly. 

"Then  it  was  time  for  me  to  come!"  exclaimed  Leopold  solemnly. 
"  The  mercy  of  God  has  sent  me  to  stop  the  carnage ! — My  brother,  the 
Empress  earnestly  entreats  you,  by  the  tears  she  has  shed  for  your  sake, 
to  desist  from  fighting ! — As  your  Empress  she  commands  you  to 
sheathe  your  sword  until  you  hear  the  result  of  the  negotiations  now 
.pending  between  herself  and  the  King  of  Prussia." 

The  Emperor  uttered  a  cry  of  rage  and  the  angry  blood  darted  to  Ws 
very  brow.  "  The  Empress  has  opened  negotiations  without  ray  con- 
sent!" cried  he  in  a  voice  of  mingled  indignatiou  and  incredulity. 


78  JOSEPH  THE  SECOND. 

"The  Empress  requires  the  consent  of  no  one  to  regulate  her  state- 
policy.  In  the  supremacy  of  her  own  power,  she  has  re-opened  negotia- 
tions with  the  King  of  Prussia  and  hopes  to  terminate  the  war  honora- 
bly without  blood-shed."  - 

"  It  is  false,  I  will  not  believe  it !"  again  cried  Joseph.  '•  My  mother 
would  not  offer  me  such  indignity,  when  she  herself  placed  in  my  hand 
the  sword  with  which  I  seek  to  defend  my  rights.  It  is  a  priest's  lie, 
and  yOu  have  been  commissioned  to  be  its  interpreter.  Bub  this  time 
your  piogB  frauds  shall  come  to  naught.  Take  back  your  packet.  It  is 
not  the  Empress's  handwriting." 

"  It  is  that  of  hev  private  Secretary," 

"  i  am  not  bound  to  respect  his  writing  and  I  have  no  time  to  listen, 
to  your  stupid  remonstrances.  Wait  until  day  after  to-morrow.  When 
a  man  is  flushed  with  victory,  he  is  generous  and  ready  to  pardon.  When 
I  have  beaten  Frederic  I  shall  have  leisure  to  inquire  into  the  authenti- 
city of  your  papers.  Remain  with  me,  not  as  the  emissary  of  Priests 
and  Jesuits,  but  as  the  brother  of  the  Emperor,  who  to-morrow  i»to  win 
his  first  victory  and  his  first  budding  laurels.  Give  me  your  hand,  Oa 
the  eve  of  a  battle,  I  am  willing  to  remember  that  we  are  brothers." 

"  But  this  is  not  the  eve  of  a  battle,  your  Majesty.  The  Empress 
commands  you  to  await  the  result  of  her  efforts  to  end  the  war." 

"  I  have  already  told  you  that  I  see  through  your  intrigues."  .   ' 

"  But  I  have  the  proofs  of  my  veracity  fn  these  papers.  You  will  not 
read  them  ?" 

"  No,  I  will  not '." 

"Then  I  shall  read  them  myself,"  retursed  Leopold,  breaking  the 
seal.  "  The  Empress  commands  you,  and  it  is  your  duty  as  her  subject 
to  obey." 

"  I  shall  obey  when  I  am  convinced  that  the  Empress  commands. 
But  in  this  case  I  am  convinced  that  it  is  not  my  mother,  the  high-spiri- 
ted Maria  Theresa,  w^io  entrusts  you  with  such  an  abject  commission." 

"You  surely  will  riot  deny  her  hand- writing,"  returned  Leopold,  ex- 
tending an  open  letter  to  his  brother. 

Joseph  looked  imploringly  at  his  brother's  calm  face. 

"  You  are  resolved  to  show  me  no  mercy  ?"  said  he.  "  You  will  not 
understand  my  refusal  to  believe  1  Listen  to  me,  Leopold.  Show  that 
you  love  me  for  once  in  your  life.  Think  of  my  joyless  youth,  my  sor- 
rowing manhood,  my  life  of  perpetual  humiliation,  and  give  me  one  day 
of  independent  action !" 

"  What  does  your  Majesty  mean  ?"  asked  the  Grand  Duke. 

The  Emperor  came  up  to  him  and  putting  both  his  hands  upon  Leo- 
pold's shoulder,  he  said  in  a  voice  of  deep  emotion,  "  Majesty  asks  no- 
thing of  you,  but  your  brother  entreats  you  to  serve  him  this  day.  '  See, 
Leopold,  it  is  too  late,  I  cannot  retract  upon  the  very  eve  of  battle.  The 
army  knows  that  we  are  about  to  engage  the  enemy,  and  my  men  are 
wild  with  enthusiasm.  The  presence  of  Frederic  upon  Austrian  soil  is 
an  indignity  which  I  am  pledged  as  a  man  to  avenge.     If  I  allow  him  to 


MARFE  ANTOINEITE.  79 

atetreat  from  his  present  disadvantageous  position  my  name  is  gone  for- 
ever, and  all  Europe  will  cry  out  upon  my  incapacity  to  command. 
Remember,  Leopold,  that  it  concerns  not  my  honor  alone.Jljut  the  honor 
of  Austria  that  this  battle  should  be  fought.  Rescue  us  both  by  a  mag- 
nanimous falsehood.  Go  back  to  the  Empress.  Tell  her  that  you  lost 
her  letters  and  that  I  would  not  take  your  word.  Meanwhile  I  shall 
have  humiliated  the  enemy,  and  Maria  Theresa  will  have  been  forced  to 
submit  to  an  event  which  she  cannot  recall.  Let  us  burn  these  papers, 
Leopold,"  continued  Joseph,  passionately  clasping  his  hands,  "and  God 
will  forgive  you  tfie  innocent  deception  by  which  your  brother  shall 
have  won  faniQ  and  glory." 

"God  will  never  pardon  me  for  sinning  so  deeply  against  my  con- 
science," replied  Leopold,  quite  unmoved  by  his  brother's  appeal  and 
representations.  "  You  require  of  me  to  burn  those  papers  and  consign 
thousands  of  your  own  subjects  to  death  and  worse  than  death — the  lin- 
gering agonies  of  the  battle-field  ?  Never !  Oh,  my  dear  brother,  have 
pity  on  yourself,  and  bethink  you  that  you  peril  your  own  salvation  by 
such  thirst  of  blood " 

"  Peace  ! — and  answer  my  question,"  cried  Joseph  stamping  his  foot. 
"  Will  you  do  what  I  ask  of  you  ?" 

"  No,  Joseph,  I  will  not  do  it.  The  Empress  desires  to  spare  the 
blood  of  her  people,  and  we  mus^  obey  her  just  demands." 

"  I  ivill  not  obey  !"  crieti  Joseph  with  such  violence  that  his  fi\ce  was 
empurpled  with  passion.  "  I  am  co-regent,  and  as  a  man  and  a  com- 
iwmder,  it  is  my  right  to  defend  the  honor  of  the  crown.  I  will,  not 
ipkd  those  letters,  and  I  choose  to  assert  the  superiority  of  my  manhood 
t.l  doing  that  which  they  forbid.  In  your  eyes  and  those  of  the  Em- 
p.'ess,  I  may  be  a  rebel,  but  the  world  will  acquit  me,  and  I  shall  be  hon- 
ored for  my  just  resistance.  You  wnll  not  destroy  the  papers  as  1  im-t 
plored  you  to  do,  then  give  them  to  me,  and  so  satisfy  your  tender  con- 
science." 

"  No,"  replied  Leopold,  who  had  replaced  the  dispatches  in  his  pock- 
et, "for  I  see  that  you  intend  to  destroy  them." 

"  That  need  not  concern  you.     Give  me  the  letters !" 

"  No,  Josepn,  I  will  not  give  them." 

The  Emperor  uttered  a  hoarse  cry  and  darted  towards  his  brother 
with  uplifted  arm. 

"  Give  me  the  papers,"  said  he,  with  his  teeth  set. 

"  What !  you  would  strike  me  !"  said  Leopold  retreating. 

"Give  me  the  papers  !"  thundered  the  Emperor,  "  or  1  felKyou  to 
the  earth  as  I  would  a  beast !"  and  he  came  yet  nearer. 

Pale  and  panting,  their  eyes  flashing  with  anger,  the  brothers  stood 
for  a  moment  confronting  each  other. 

"•'  Refuse  me  once  again,"  hissed  Joseph  in  a  low,  unnatural  voice, 
"refuse  me  once  again,  and  my  hand  shall  smite  your  cowardly  face  and 
disgrace  you  forever ;  for,  as  God  hears  me,  you  shall  never  have  satis- 
faction for  the  affront." 


80  josei'h'the  second. 

Leopold  was  silent,  but,  with  his  eyes  fixed  upon  Joseph,  he  retreated^ 
farther  and  still  farther,  followed  by  the  Emperor,  who,  still  with  uplift- 
ed )jand,  threatened  his  brother's  face.  Suddenly  Leopold  reached  'the 
door  and,  bursting  it  open,  rushed  into  the  aute-roona.  With  a  tiger- 
bound  he  sprang  forward  to  Lacy  who  had  remained  there  in  obedience 
to  the  Emperor's  orders. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

THE  DEFEAT. 

"  Field-marshal  Lact,"  said  the  Grand  Duke,  "  I  claim  your  protec- 
tion— the  protection  of  a  man  whom  the  Empress  has  honored,  and  who 
has  sworn  to  obey  her  as  his  lawful  Sovereign." 

"  Even  unto  death,"  added  Lacy  solemnly. 

The  Emperor  groaned  aloud,  and  his  upraised  arm  fell  powerless  t0 
his  side.  A  triumphant  smile  flickered  over^the  pale  features  of  Leo- 
pold. He  thrust  his  hand  into  his  bosom  and  drew  forth  the  dispatches 
of  the  Empress,  _^ 

"  The  Empress  charged  me,"  said  he,  "  in  case  the  Emperor  refasr  \ 
to  read  these  letters,  to  deliver  them  to  you,  Marshal  Lacy,  and  to  tel 
you,  in  my  presence,  read  them  to  him.  Come,  then,  your  Excellenqjf, 
let  us  obey  the  commands  of  our  Sovereign." 

Lacy  bowed,  and  followed  the  Grand  Duke  in  silence.  The  Empe- 
ror retreated  to  his  cabinet  and  sinking  upon  a  sofa,  buried  his  face  in 
his  hands.  Nothing  interrupted  the  stillness  save  the  measured  foot- 
steps of  Lacy  and  the  Grand  Duke,  who  entered  [and  closed  the  door 
behind  them.  A  long  pause  ensued.  The  Grand  Duke  tetired  to  a 
window  where,  with  his  arms  folded,  he  awaited  the  development  of  at 
fairs  with  recovered  composure.  Joseph  still  sat  with  his  face  hidden 
by  his  hands,  while  Lacy  with  military  decorum  stood  at  the  door  with 
his  letters,  silent,  until  the  Emperor  should  signify  that  he  might  read. 
Finding  that  Joseph  would  not  speak,  Lacy  took  a  few  steps  forward. 
*'  Does  your  Majesty  allow  me  to'  read  the  letters  which,  in  the  name  of 
the  Empress,  his  imperial  Highness,  the  Grand  Duke,  has  delivered  to 
-'ine  ?" 

"  Read,"  said  Joseph  hoarsely,  but  without  removing  his  hands. 
Lacy  approached  the  table,  and  from  the  various  documents  which  <,ie 
unfolded  and  examined,  selected  the  letter  which  was  in  the  Empreee's 
own  hand. 


MARlJi   AiMUl>ErrF*  Si 

"  My  dearest  Emperor  and  son.  As  eo-re^ent  nnd  heir  to  iiiy  throne, 
I  hasten  to  advisu  yva  of  the  negotiations  which  have  just  been  renewed 
between  the  King  of  Prussia  and  inyseh'.  1  have  eveiy  hope  that  they 
■will  terminate  to  our  satisfaction,  and  thus  not  only  save  the  livfes  of 
many  of  our  subjects,  but  relieve  my  heart  of  the  panj^s  it  has  endured 
durinjj;  the  absence  of  my  beloved  son.  The  King  of  l-'russia  has  prom- 
ised that,  pending  our  diplomatic  correspondence,  he  will  not  attack  our 
armies.  1  therefore  hope  that  you,  my  son,  ^viil  conceae  as  much,  and 
scrupulously  avoid  all  collision  that  might  interrupt  our  negotiations. 
I  send  you  copies  of  our  correspondence  and  will  continue  to  do  so  re- 
gularly. Hoping  that  God  in  his  goodness  will  restore  to  me  my  impe- 
rial son,  I  remain  now  as  ever,  Your  afljsctionatc  mother  and  Empress, 

Maria  Tuerksa. 

A  deep  sigh  that  was  almost  a  sob  was  heaved  by  the  Emperor. 
Slowly  his  hands  fell  from  his  face,  while  with  tearful  eyes  he  turned  to 
Lacy,  and  said,  "  Is  it  really  so '?     Are  my  hopes  of  glory  all  frustrated  ?" 

Lacy  answered  with  another  sigh  and  a  slight  raising  of  the  shoulder. 

"  Read  on  Lacy,*'  continued  the  Emperor  mildly,  "  my  eyes  are  dim 
and  I  cannot  see."  i 

Lacy  continued  reading  the  correspondence.  First  the  letter  of  the 
Empress — then  the  reply  of  the  King  in  which  he  promised  that  Mkria 
Theresa  should  have  nothing  to  fear  for  the  life  of  her  beloved  son. 

When  the  Emperor  heard  this  he  started  ;  the  color  iftounted  to  bis 
face,  then  faded  away  and  left  it  pale  as  before.  His  lips  moved,  but, 
with  a  convulsive  twitch,  he  closed  them  again, .and  listened  in  silence. 
Two  more  letters  followed,  full  of  mutual  and  distinguished  considera- 
tion, then  came  the  propositions  of  the  Empress  and  the  <;omment3  of 
the  King. 

Maria  Theresa  pledged  herself,  from  that  portion  of  Bavaria  of  which 
Austria  had  possession,  to  retain  only  so  much  as  would  yield  a  reve- 
nue of  one  million,  oftering  to  cede  the  remairider  to  the  Elector  Pala- 
tine^ or  to  exchange  with  him  for  territory  Situated  elsewhere. 

Then  followed  Frederic's  conditions.  He  stipulated  that  Austria 
should  renounce  all  pretensions  to  Bavaria,  contenting  herself  with  a 
small  portion  of  Upper  Bavaria,  and  recognising  and  upholding  the 
claims  of  Charles  Theodore,  as  well  as  those  of  his  heir,  the  Du^e  of 
Zweibriioken. 

"  Further,  further !"  exclaimed  Joseph,  as  Lacy  paused. 

"  There  is  nothing  further,  sire ;  the  correspondence  ceases  there." 

"  And  to  these  disgraceful  propositions  we  are  not  permitted  to  make 
the  only  answer  of  which  they  are  deserving, — that  is,  to  wipe  them  out 
with  blood !  Oh  Lacy,  Lacy,  is  it  not  (earfiif  to  be  compelled  like  a 
school-boy  to  submit  to  the  punishment  which  my  tormentor  judges  fit 
to  inflict!"      ' 

"  It-  is  a  painful  duty,  sire  •  but  it  is  a  duty,  and  your  Majesty  must 
subujit.'' 


^-2  .XXiEi'b    I'UJi  dEUOiVD 

'■  I  inuso  nubmit !"  exclaiined  Joseph  in  bitter  anguish  while  he  sprang 
fioni  the  sofa.  Hut  sutldeuly  his  eager,  lluttering  ghuices  were  turned 
to.vards  the  window  where  stood'the  Grand  Duke  quietly  surveying  his 
movements. 

•' Have  you  not  gone?"  asked  the  Emperor.     '"1  thought  that  your 
mission  being  I'uitilied,  your  imperial  Highness  had  nothing  more  to  do 
here,"' 
'     "  1  awnit  your  Majesty's  answer,"  replied  the  Grand  Duke. 

"Oh  you  wish  to  mock  lue,  *do  you,"  cried  Joseph,  trembling  with 
passion,  "  lor  well  you  knoVv  j/aere  is  but  one  answer  to  the  Empress's 
commands,  and  that  is— (obedience.  But  since  yon  are  anxious  to  take 
a  message,  here  is  one' and  mark  it  well.  Say  U-y  the  Empress  that  I 
submit  as  becomes  her  subject,  and  so  long  as  it  suits  her  witjiout  my 
knowledge  aod  behind  my  back  to  hold  cojifcrences  with  the  enemy,  { 
•will  abstain  from  engaging  him  in  battle,  although  by  so  .doing  I  shall 
Tuin  my  reputation  ibrever.  Tell  her  furthermore  that  should  she  ac- 
cept the  dishonorable  proposals  made  by  Frederic  and  conclude  a  peace 
upon  the  basis  of  his  conditions,  she  need  never  expect  to  9ee  me  again 
in  Vienna.  I  shall  never'  go  near  her  so  long  as  I  live,  but  lake  up  my 
abode  in  Aix  la  Chapelle,  or  in  some  other  free  cily,  as  it  was  once  the 
custom  of  the  Emperors  of  Germany  to  do."'^" 

''Oh  sire!"  exclaimed  Lacy,  shocked,  "retract  those  words  I  implore 
of  you  !" 

''l  will  not  retract  them,"  replied  Joseph  imperatively,  "  I  order  the 
envoy  qf  the  Empress  to  repeat  theqa  lliithfuUy." 

"I  shall  obey  your  Majesty,  the  co-regent  of  the  Empress,"  said  the 
Grand  Duke  of  Tuscany.     '•  Has  your  Majesty  any  other  commands  ?" 

"Yes!''  shouted  the  Emperor  fiercelvi  "When  you  shall  have  ac- 
complished your  mission  in  Vienna,  go  home  to  your  Priests  in  Tuscany, 
and  bid  them  say  a  mass  for  the  repose  of  your  brother's  soul,  for  from, 
this  day  you  have  lost  him  who  was  called  Joseph.  He  is  dead  to  you 
forever."         .  ' 

The  Grand  Duke  returned  his  brother's  look  with  one  of  equal  hatred. 
"  I  can  scarcely  lose  that  which  I  have  never  possessed, "  replied  he  with 
Composure.  '•  Had  the  affront  which  your  Majesty  has  put  upon  me  to- 
day come  from  a  brother,  we  should  have  measured  swords  together  be- 
fore the  sun  had  set  upon  the  insult.  But  he  who  stands  bef(jre  me  is 
my  Emperor,  and  of  him  I  am  prohibited  fi'om  demanding  satisfaction." 

"Our  paths  in  life  lie  apart,  and  I  trust  that  we  shall  never  be  forced 
to  look  upon  each  other  again,"  said  Joseph  in  reply.  ; 

"I  am  compelled  to  echo  the  wish  since  we  can  never  meet  as  bro- 
thers," returned  Leopold.     "  Farewell !" 

"  Farewell — and  let  it' be  farewell  forever  !"  • 

The  Grand  Duke  crossed  the  room  and  opened  the  door,  while  Joseph 
watched  his  disappearance,  with  glaring  eyes  and  stormy  brow,  and  Lacy 
in  angntsh  of  heart  looked  first  at  one  brother,  then  at  the  other.     The 

».T'>pf[.ti'f 'nv!  ^onij     ?cc  Dohm's  Memoirs,  vol  1,i>-''*8i 


makie  ANTohNErrii.  ^;; 

door  closed,  ai]d  the  jar  it  made  caused  Lacy  to  start.     IJe  recovered 
himself  and  hastened  to  tlie  Emperor's  t^ide. 

'•  Call  him  back,  sire,"  .implored  he.  *'  Call  him  b.ack.  .  He  is  your 
brother  and  the  son  of  your  mother.  He  is  also  the  hope  of  those  who 
tremble  with  appreliension  of  your  Ifajesfy's  reign."    • 

"Oh,  yes — he  is  the  leader  of  my  encmres,  the  head  of  the  pious  con- 
spirators who  have  cursed  my  life  by  their  diabolical  opposiiiou.  But 
u  day  will  come  when  1  shall  crush  the  whole  brood  in  their  owl's  nest, 
and  put  my  house  in  order.  In  that  day  1  shall  remember  this  intei- 
view  with  the  Grand  Duke  of  Tiifcauy.'""" 

'*Sire,"  insisted  Lacy,  "  I  cntrfiat  of  you,  recall  him — if  not  as  your 
brother,  as  the  envoy  of  your  Sovereign.     Before  it  is  too  late,   retract 

those  f^>arful  words, which  in  a  moment  of " 

."Lacy!"  interrupted  the   Emperor  in  a  loud,   angry  voice,   "  I  have 
this  day  lost  a  brother  and  a  battle.     Am  1  also  to  iose  a  friend  1" 

The  tears  rose  to  Lacy'.s  eyes.  "  Sire,"  said  he  in  a  voice  of  emotiou, 
"forgive  your  truCvSt  friend  if  he  has  presumed  to  oppose  you.  I  have 
no  kindred  to  love;  my  heart  is  bound  to  you,  and  if  i  lose  your  regard, 
I  am  desolate  and  alone  in  the  world  !" 

"  You  shall  not  lose  it,  my  dear,  dear  friend,"  exclaimed  Joseph, 
throwing  his  arms  around  Lacy's  neck.  "Oh,  God,  you  do  not  know 
how  I  suffer  !  I  feel  as  if  1  had  lost  somo  beloved  friend.  And  is  it 
not  so  ?  IL'ive  I  not  buried  to-day  the  hopes  cf  a  whole  life?  The 
hopes  which  from  ray  youth  I  had  cherished  of  winning  glory  and  fame 
through  Frederic's  humiliation  ! — i  would  give  years  of  my  life  to  have 
measured  swords  with  him,  for— let  me  tell  you  a  secret,  Lacy — I  hate 
that  man  as  much  as  I  once  fancicd'that  1  loved  him.  He  is  the  *causc 
of  every  misfortune  that  has  befallen  our  house  for  forty  years  past;  his 
fame  is  our  shame,  his  splendor,  our  obscuration.  1  might  forgive  him. 
his  robbery  of  Silesia,  but  that  he  has  reduced  me  to  the  role  of  an  imi- 
tator, I  can  never  forgive  !  Everything  on  earth  that  I  imagine,  he  exe- 
cutes before  me.  If  1  desire  to  free  my  people  from  the  dominion  of 
the  clergy,  he  has  already  liberated  his;  if  1  seek  to  a(j(vance  art,  litera- 
ture, or  manufactures,  he  has  just  afibrded  them  protection  in  Prussia- 
if  I  recommend  toleration,  lo  !  he  has  removed  the  disabilities  of  the 
Jews,  and  has  pronounced  all  .sects  equal  before  the  law.  Would  I  ex- 
cel in  music,  or  yearn  for  military  glory  %  The  world  has  long  since 
pronounced  him  a  hero,  and  his  flute  was  heard  before  1  learned  the  vio- 
lincello.  Oh,  1  hate  him,  1  hate  him,  for  his  greatness  is  C^e  rock  upon 
which  my  originality  is  iated  to  split;  and  his  shadow  projects  forever 
before  me  and  my  unborn  deeds.  He  forces  me  to  pass  for  a  counterfeit 
of  his  true  coin,  and  yet  1  feel  that  my  individuaiity  is  as  marked  as  his ! 
He  is  the  evil  genius  of  my  destiny,  vanquishing  me  even  in  all  that  I 

♦The  two  b'oniers  never  met  atrain.  Althoujrh  Leopold  was  next  heir  to  the  crown,  Joseph 
•would  not  allow  him  to  receive  th"  tiUe  of  Kinf;  of  liome,  but  bestowed  it  upon  Lcoiwld'a  son  and 
heir,  Francis.  Even  upon  his  doatli-bcd,  the  Kmpnror  rpfnsed  to  see  his  brother.  By  his  explicit 
commands,  it  was  only  when  hie  death  had  taken  place  that  a  courier  was  sent  to  inform  Leopold 
of  his  accession  lo  the  throne  , 


^4  •  JUiSEPH  MIE  iiEUOlS'D. 

* 
^vou^c^  have  done  for  the  good  of  ray  subjects  and  the  advancenaent  of 
the  world  !" 

"  Yoiu-  Majesty  goes  too  far,"  said  Lacy  siniling.  "  There  is. one  thing 
which  Frederic  has  never  dreamed  of  doing,  and  it  is  precisely  there  that 
you  are  destined* to  eclipse  him.  He  has  never  sought  to  do  anything 
for  Germany.  A  German  Prince,  the  ruler  of  a  German  people,  he  is 
the  patron  of  foreign  industry-,  literature  ah d  art.  The  most  insignifi- 
cant writing  in  France  is  boLLcr  known  to  him  than  Lessing  or  Winlde- 
raann  ;  and  while  he  is  perfectly  familiar  with  the  composers  of  Italy, 
he  has  blundered  into  depreciation  of  Gluck's  inspired  music.  That  is 
the  great  and  glorious  contrast  which  your  Majesty  presents,  to  Frederic 
of  Prussia,  and  the  German  peopic!  whom  he  has  despised  will  look  up 
to  you,  sire,  as  to  the  Messiah  of  their. decaying  greatness." 
•  "  He  Vv'ill  foil  me  there  as  in  all  else,"  replied  Joseph  disconsolately. 
"  Has  he  not  already  guessed  my  plans  for  Germany,  and  has  he  not  torn 
my  banner  from,  my  hand  to  flaunt  it  above  his  own  head,  as  the  defen- 
der of  German  liberties!  And  Maria  Theresa,  too,  is  deceived  by  his 
internal  logic!  Oh,  Lacy,  I  hate  him  beyond  expression.  1  hate  him 
for  the  letter  \yherein  he  promises  to  spare  her  son,  a  man  whom  he 
loves,  although  he  diflers  with  hini  on  the  subject  of  German  national- 
ity.* The  cowardly  remnant  of  a  warrior  !  He  takes  refuge  under  the 
rosaries  and  scapulars  that  lie  beneath  my  mother's  hooped  petticoat, 
and  v;hispers  in  her  credulous  ear  that  this  war  is  a  great  sin  ! — ^Do  you 
really  think  that  I  am  bound  to  sheaihe  my  sword  at  the'-Zpse  dixit  of 
my  mother  V 

Your  mother  is  the  reigning  Empress,  sire,  and  it  is  for  you  to  give 
to  her  other  subjects  an  example  of  loyalty  and  obedience."* 

"Ah,''  sighed  Joseph,  '-I  must  still  the. throbbings  of  my  bursting 
heart,  and  suffer  in  silence." 

For  a  while  he  paced  the  room  with  hasty,  uncertain  steps,  murmur- 
ing inaudible  words,  and  darting  despairing  looks  towards  the  window, 
whence  gay  throngs  of  soldiery  were  to  be  seen  preparing  to  leave  the 
encampment,  while  they  sang  their  martial  songs,  and  speculated  togeth- 
er upon  the  events  of  the  morrow.  Suddenly  the  Emperor  turned  his 
head  towards  Lacy  and  said, 

"  Field-marshal,  1  withdraw  my  plans  of  battle.  The  Ernpress-queen 
has  spoken,  it  is  for  us  to  obey.  Apprise  the  army  of  the  change.  We 
remain  where  we  are." 

-  "  Sire,"  exclaimed  Lacy  enthusiastically,  "  your  victory  has  been  won 
to-day.     A  victory  over  self !" 

The  Emperor  raised  his  eyes  with  a  sad,  weary  expression,  and  shook 
his  head.     ''  It  was  harder  to  win  than  would  have  been  that  which  I  con- 
templated for  to-morrow.     Go,  Lacy,  go,  we  must  still  hope  and  pray — 
pray  God  to  grant  that  at  some  future  day  we  may  be  revenged." 
*  GrosB-Hoffingor,  Kecords  <}f  the  life  of  Joseph  Second.    P.  41, 


II  A.J  t.    ^;-.  1"1M-.1  1 


CITAPTEII  XXI. 
•rriK  nKVKic(jF-. 

Laoy  had  a?stml>led  the  generals  and  the  st.HlT-officers  to  conn  muni. -.itf 
the  dec^^ion  of  the  Emperor,  while  the  l:v»;ter,  overcome  by  this  supreme 
disappoi^tmen^,  was  pacing  his  •abinet  with  heavy  and  measured  step. 
Then  he  stood  at  the  window  and  watched  the  movements  of  his  sol- 
diers. 

'•  They  have  heard  it  now,"  thoup;ht  he,  "  and  the  word  has  gone  forth, 
'The  Emperor  is  afraid  to  meet  the  old  hero.'  Yes,  my  brave  soldiers, 
1  know  fill!  well  that  you  despise  me!  Your  songs  have  ceased — your 
spirit  is  cru'^hed  and  ah! — min«  also.  This  unfuught  battle  is  worth  a 
victory  to  Frederic;  for  the  army  will  think  that;  my  courage  failed  me, 
iind  the  King  of  Prussia  will  still  remain  in  their  estimation,  the  invin- 
cible foe  of  Austria!     Oh,  when  will  the  hour  ofretributiou  ^oln■!d  !'" 

At  thi.-^  moment  a  knock  was  heard  at  the  door  and  an  Adjutant  an- 
nouncco  U)  the  Emperor  that  a  Iiuzzar  belonging  to  a  Gallician  regiment, 
stationt'd  directly  opposite  to  the  Piiissinn  encaniprnent,  wished  lo  coni- 
muni^ute  something,  of  importance. 

"/Ldmit  him,"  said  Joseph,  wearily. 

The  Adjutant  bowed  and  returned,  accompanied  by  a  st.ihvart  figure 
attired  in  the  fanciful  imd  becoming  costume  of  a  Gallician  hugzar.  The 
Emperor  returned  his  salute  with  a  slight  bend  of  the  head  and  motion- 
ed him  to  approach.  The  Adjutant  withdrew,  and  Joseph  was  alone 
■with  the  huzzar. 

"  Now  speak,"  said  Joseph,  "and  if  you  have  important  tidings  let 
me  hear  them.*' 

The  soldier  raised  his  head^'nnd  spoke.  "  I  have  come  to  do  your 
Majesty  a  service,  but  first  you  must  ^jromise  to  reward  me  as  becomes 
an  Emperor."'  •     ' 

"If  your  servijce  is  great,  your  reward  shall  be  in  proportion." 

The  soldier  bow^Sd.  "  I  am  on  picket  duty  immediately  on  the  banks 
of  the  Elbe.  As  I  have  lain  among  ihe  bushes,  1  have  m.ort^  than  once 
seen  the  King  of  Prussij^  just  opposite  to  ine  taking  a  survey  of  our 
strength.  Little  thinks  he  as  he  reins  in, his  horse  that  a  sharpshooter's 
ball  is  not  too  far  off  to  bring  him  dowiu     But  I  have  thought,  of  it." 

"You  have  thought  of  w'hat?"  exclaimed  Joseph,  shocked. 

"  I  have  thought  that  my  ball  has  never  yet  missed  its  man,  and  what 
a  rich  man  I  might  become  if  I  were  to  free  Austria  from  its  worst" ene- 
my. 1  was  turning  this  over  ih  my  mind  yesterday,  w^hen  here  comes 
the  King  on  his  grtiy  horse  and  halts  directlv  in  front  hf  me.     He  held 


86  liVslil'H    I'HK  SKCUNI) 

a  c;"ine  in  his  hanJ,  and  pointed  with  it  toward;?  our  encampment  nnd 
be;it  the  air  with  it,  as  though  he  were  showing  his  officers  how  he  was 
going  to  thrash  the  Austrian-army.  When  I  saw  this,  my  blood  began 
to  boil,  and  I  ros«  half  up  and'cocked  my  "gun.  Many  a  Boenian  have  I 
brought  down  -with  it." 

"Go  on,"'  said  the  Emperor,  as  the  soldier  paused  and  threw  an  ad- 
miring glance  upon  his  musket. 

"  Yes  sire,  I  raised  my  gun  and  took  aim,  when  I  began  to  reflect  that 


'  "That  what  V  exclaimed  Joseph,  upon  whose  forehead  great  drops  of 
sweat  had  begun  to  gather. 

"  That  it  woiild  be  bettf^r  first  to  asR  the  Emperor's  permission  and 
get  the  promise  of  a  reward,"  said  the'huzzar  witl\  a  salute. 
^     "  Ah,"  cried  the  Emperor,  breathing  freely,  "  that  was  a  lucky  thought 
of  yours  I" 

The  soldier  bowed  low,  "  I  put  down  ray  musket,  ajid  when  the  hour 
came  around  for,  me  to:  be  relieved,  I  asked  leaveof  my  Captain  to  come 
here  to  see  an  old  acquaintance.  And  indeed  3'Our  Majesty  I  was  not 
telling  a  lie,  for  you  once  slept  under  my  fjithqr's-  roof,  and  paid  him  so 
well  for  the  night's  lodging  that  he  was  able  to  buy  some  land,  to  settle 
me  upon  it,  and  thereupon  1  married  my  sweetheart.  .Bo  that  I  did corfte 
to  see  an  old  acquaintance,  and  now  your  Majesty,  1  have  a  firm  hand 
and  a  sharp  eye,  and  if  you  saj  so,  Frederic  shall  bite  the  dust  before 
this  day  week." 

"  What  said  your  Captain  to  such  a  proposal?" 

"  Does  your  Majesty  suppose  that  I  am  such  a  fool  as  to  give  another 
man  the  chance  of  stepping  in  my  shoes?" 

"It  follows  thence  that  lam'  the  only  person  in  your  confidence,'^  said 
Joseph,  much  relieved. 

"The  only  one,  sire,  and  I  believe  that  you  will  not  misuse  it." 

"  No,  1  will  not,  and  as  a  reward  for  your  trust  in  me,  here  are  two 
gold  pieces."  , 

At  first  the  soldier  smiled  as  he  received  the  gold,  but  presently  his 
brow  darkened,  and  casting  a  dissatisfied'Iook  at  the  Emperor  from  be- 
hind his  bushy  eye-brows,  he  saifj,  "Is  the  life  of  the  King  of  Prussia, 
worth  but  two  ducats?" 

"It  is  worth  more  than  all  the  gold  in  my  imperial  treasury,"  replied 
the  Emperor  with  energy,  "  and  no  man  on  earth  is  ri^ih  enough  to  pay 
for  it."  I  gave  you  these  ducats  to  repay  what  you  spent  in  coming 
from  your  camp  hither.  But  I  shall  reward  yon  still  further  if  you  will 
promise  not  to  divulge  what  you  have  confided  to  me.  Not  only  that, 
but  I  will  also  give  you  your  discharge  from  the  army,  send. you  home 
and  give  you  a  situation  as  imperial  huntsman.  If  you  break  your  pro- 
mise, I  punish  you  with  death." 

"Sire,  I  promise,  and  I  shall  nev.er  break  my  word." 

"  Swear  it  in  the  name  of  Grod  and  of  the  Blessed  Virgin." 

"  I  swear,"  saivt  the  soldier  raising  his  right  h?ind  to  heaven.     "And 


>\A  Kl  I'      \  >  1  <  11  >  t    1  1  r,  >  ^ 

now,  voiir  Maj^^sty,  N'i;it  no  one  Is  to  know  it   ex<'*epi  wi  Iwc,  wii'ii  shall 
1  shoot  the  King  of"  rrnssia  nnd  return  to  my  home  "?" 

The  Emperor  looked  sternly  npon  the  uneonsoions  hnzznr.  "Soldier," 
said  be,  in  loud  and  solemn  tones,  '*  keep  the  gold  I  have  given  yon  in 
rd^ieVnhrance  of  the  warning  whieh  yoiir  good  angel  whimpered  when 
you  forbore  to  murder  the  King  of  Prussia.  1  hope  and  believe  that 
everv  man  among  you  would  ris-k  his  life  in  Hattle  to  talvehim  prisoner, 
but  God  forbid  tliat  any  one  of  yon  should  stoop  so  low  as  co  becom.e 
his  murderer !" 

|[rhe  hnzzar  stared  at  the  Emperor  in  utter  licwilderment,  and  not  a 
word  of  reply  was  he  abb;  to  make  to  this  incomprehensible  harangue. 

The  Emperor  continued,  "■  1  pardon  yjour  evii  thought  because  itdid 
not  germinate' into  an  evil  deed,  but  hud  you  followed  your  impulse  to 
murder  tlie  King,  I  would  have  hung  yon  withoj-it  giving  you  time  to 
see  a  priest.  Thank  God  for  your  escape,  and  let  us  dismiss  the  dis- 
gracernl  subject  foi'evcr.     You  cr.a  remain  htre  for  the  night." 

"  Cut  I  have  only  six  hours  leave  of  absence,  sire." 

The  Emperor  looked  distrustfully  at  the  soldier.  "I  have  discharged 
you  from  the  service,  and  will  see  that  you  are  not  molested." 

'■'And  1  am  really  to  go  home  ?"  cried  the  man  overjoyed,  "and  the 
Emperor  really  menn*  to  fulfil  his  promise  in  spite  of  the  dreadful  repri- 
mand I  have  received  !" 

"Yes,  1  mean  to  fulfil  my  promise;  but  you  also  must  swear  to  live 
,a  peaceful  life  and  never  try  to  kill  another  man  save  in  open  fight,  were 
he  even  a  Bosnian." 

"From  my  heart  I  swear,"  replied  the  soldier,  solemnly. 

"Now  you  can  go."  The  Emperor  then  rayg  his  bell,  when  the  door 
opened,  and  Giiuther  entered  the  room.  "  Giinther,"  saiJl  he,  "  give  this 
man  his  supper  and  a  bed  in  your  room,  and  while  he  remains  here,  see 
that  his  wnnis  arc  attended  to." 

Giinther  bowed,  and  retired  with  the  hnzzar.  The  Emperor  followed 
the  gigantic  figure  of  th(j  soldier  until  the  door  closed  upon  him,  then  he 
raised  his  eyes  to  heaven  with  a  look  of  unspeakable  gratitude. 

"Lord,"  said  he,  "I  have  snflered  cruelly  since  the  sun  rose  to-day, 
but  oh  how  1  thank  Thee  that  'J'hou  hast  preserved  my  name  from  eter- 
nal infamy !  How  would  the  world  have  spurned  me,  if,  rcfuf;ing  to 
give  him  battle,  I  had  taken  the  life  of  my  enemy  through  the  hnnds  of 
an  Austrian  soldier!  My  God,  iriy  God.  the  life  of  Frederic  has  become 
more  precious  to  me  than  my  own,  for  his  life  is  one  with  my  honor !" 

'•  But  what  if  another  should  execute  what  this  Gallacian  has  conceiv- 
ed ?".  continued  the  Emperor,  shudderinu.  "  What  if  in  his  ignorance, 
"another  one  of  the'se  wild  huntsmen  should  docm  it  his  duty  to  taire  tho 
life  of  Frederic!"  The  Emperor  grew  nsle  with  the  thought,  nnd  his 
hand  w:is  lifted  as  if  to  p^otost  against  the  crime*  "  "I  must  find  means 
to  shield  mysfdf  from  such  di -gra.ee,  f^u-  his  safety  and  my  honor  are  cast 
"on  the  same  die  !" 

Far  into  (he  night,  Giinther  heard  the  tread   of  his  imperiar  master. 


and  lis  Wiiit-cJ  in  vain  to  be  called  in  to  attend  him.  He  watched  until 
the  dawn  of  day,  and  when  at  last,  unable  to  contain  his  anxiety,  he 
opened  the -door  of  the  cabinet,  he  saw  the  Emperor  Vsleep  in  an  arm- 
chair. He  was  in  full  uniform,  and  the  rays  of  the  rising  sun  lit  up  his 
pale  fAce,  which  even  in  sleep  wore  an  anxious  and  piiinful  expressi»on. 

Gtirither  approached  and  touched  him  lightly.  "Sire,"  said  he  in  a 
voice  of  tender  ontreaty,  'Met  me  assist  you.  to  undress.  This  is  the 
foiirUi  night  thai  yonr  Majesty  has  sl^pt  In  your  uniform.  You  must 
lie  down,  indeed  you  must.'" 

Joseph  opened  his  eyes  and  looked  at  Giinthnr.  "  Ah!"  sighed  he, 
"  during  three  of  these  nights,  I  might  just  as;  well  have  slept  in  my  bed 
as -any  re<?pectab]e  burgher  who  has  nothing  to  trouble  him  but  his  grow- 
ing corpulence.  But  last  night  1  dared  not  undress,  for  I  have  much  to 
do  this  m^)rning.  Good  heavens,  Giinther,"  continued  the  Emperor, . 
suddenly  I'emembering'thR  huzzar,  "what  has  become  of  the  man  whom 
J  gave  vita  your  custody  la^t  evening?" 

•'Your  Majesty's  second  valet  is  in  the  same  bed  with  him  and  they 
are  both  ar>leep.  The  door  between  our  sleeping-room  and  the  ante- room 
ha!<  been  open  all  night,  so  that  while  I  sat  there  awaiting  your  Majes- 
ty's call,  I  had  ihe  huzzar  directly  under  my  eyes.  He  seems  to  have 
pleasant  dreams,  if!  judge  by  bis  smiles  and  snatches  of  songs." 

"  Let  him  sleep,  Giinther,  nnd  when  he  awahes,  allow  no  one  to  hold 
any  cxmversation  with  him.  Now  give  me  a  glass  of  fresh  water  for 
my  breakfast.", 

Giinther  hastened  to  obey,  and  returned  in  a  ver^"-  few  minutes.  The 
Emperor  emptied  the  glass"  at  a  draught,  "Oh,"  e.xclaimed  he,  refresh- 
H.d,  ''how  delightful  it  is!  1  have  not  a  cook  in  my  palaces  capable  of 
brewing  me  such  a  'beverage  !" 

":And  yet  the  meanest  of  your  subjects,  sire,  would  grumble  if  he  had 
nothing. better  than  .'♦gla'^s  of  water  lor  breakfast." 

'•No  doubt  of  it,  Giinther.  Men  set  no  value  upon  that  which  is  ea- 
sily obtained.  If  T  were  to  close  up  the  fountains  and  forbid  them  to 
drink  water  for  breakfast,  they  would  raise  a  howl,  and  protest  that  they 
oould  drink  nothing  else ;  and  if  I  desired  to  give  thern  a  taste  for  assa- 
fcetida,  1  would  have  nothing  to  do  but  forbid  its  use.  Once  forbidden 
to  the  multitude,  the  multitude  would  go  mad  for  it.  But  see!  The 
sun  has  sent  a  ray  through  the  window  to  bid  us  good  morning,  and  to 
warn  me  that  it  is  time  to  depart.  Order  my  horse  to  be  saddled,  tell 
some  of  the  Stair  to  prepare  to  accompany  me,  and  then  go  to  Field 
Marshal  Lacy  and  request  him  to  go  with  me  this  morning  on  a  toUr  of 
inspection."  ,, 

'•  Lacy,"  said  the  Emperor,  as  they  gallbped  off  together,  "  you  must  • 
prepare  yourself  for  a  long  ride.  We  had  anticipated  an  early  start  to- 
day, ^j^d  we  are  punctual.  To  be  sure  we  are  minus  an  army,  and  nei- 
ther oiir  hearts  nor  our  trumpets  are  sounding  triumphant  blasts  of  vic- 
tory. Ah,  friend  !  what  miserable  puppets  we  are  in  the  hands  of  Al- 
mighty <^d  !     Yesterday  I  was  gazing  exultingly  upon  the  heaven  of 


tbe  future,  to  clear,  so  blue,  so  siivcr-brigbt — vJ^ion  lo!  llierublllug  of  a 
woman's  dress  is  heardj  and  the  sky  f>f  iny  destiny  ffrows  black  as  night. 
Yesterdav  I  fancied  niyf^elf  a  man,  today  I  am  a  schuol  boy  in  di-grace 
upoij  my  knee?.  Oh,  Lacy  !  tho&e.  weary  knees  ache  mo  tf-o  that  1  coisld 
8ob  for  pain,  were  it  not  laughable  for  a  conimandcrin-«;hief  to  put  his 
handkerchief  to  his  eyes. — Good  God,  Lacy,"  shouted  the  Emperor,  sud- 
denly, while  he  reined  in  iiis  horse  until  the  animal  almost  fell  upon  his 
haunches,  "why  do  you  not  laugh!  You  .see  that  I  am  doing  my  best 
to  divert  ^ou  !" 

"  I  cannot  laugh,  sire,  when  -you  yourself  jire  suflTering  almost  to  mad- 
ness I" 

The  Emperor  made  no  reply,  but  rode  on,  relaxing  his  speed  until 
his  horse  ambled  gently  over  the  rond.  "  Lacy,"  said  he  finally,  "  1  am 
unreasonable  when  1  murmur  aga.nst  destlnv,  for  yesterday  Providence 
was  most  benign  towards  me.  Some  other  time,  you  shall  hear  in  what 
manner. — Let  us  quicken  our  pace,  fur  today  1  must  vi>it  all  the  out- 
posts. I  have  an  order  to  promulgate  to  the  pickets,  of  which  I  shall 
e:<plain  to  you  the  reason  when  we  return." 

V  Shortly  after  the  Emperoi'  had  spoken,  they  reached  the  front.  Jo- 
seph sprang  forward  to  the  very  edge  of  the  river- bonk,  and  looked  earn- 
estly towards  the  opposite  shore.  Nothing  was  to  be  seen  save  faraway 
on  the  horizon  a  few  black  specks  which  showed  the  outposts  of  the  en- 
emy.    The  Emperor  signed  to  the  officer  on  duty  to  approach. 

"Do  the  Prussians  ever  venture  any  nearer?"  asked  he. 

"Yes,  sire.  They  seem  to  be  oflicers  of  high  rank  making  a  recon- 
noissance  probably  with  a  view  to  finding  a  crossing  for  their  army. 
They  sometimes  approach  so  close  that  the  sharpshooters,  who  have 
eyes  like  telescopes,  recognise  the  King  of  Prussia  in  the  group."' 

"  It  is  quite  possible  that  in  the  exi;itenient  of  a  survey,  the  King  may 
approach  the  ijhore.  In  the  event  of  such  an  accident,  I  have  a  com- 
mand to  give  to  your  men.  As  soon  as  they  recognise  the  King,  they 
shall  present  arms  and  remain  thus  until  he  is  entirely  out  of  sight.  I 
desire,  through  this  courtesy,  to  express  the  respect  due  to  a. crowned 
head,  a  great  general,  and  a  personal  friend  of  my  own.  This  order 
must  be  strictly  enforced  by  the  officer  of  the  day."* 

The  Emperor  then  incluied  his  head  and  rode  off  v^ith  his  staff.  At 
each  outpost  the  order  for  presenting  arms  to  Frederic  was  repeated, 
and  the  officers  charged  with  its  execution  to  the  letter. 

Late  in  the  day  Joseph  returned  from  his  long  and  tiresome  visit  of 
inspection.  But  so  flir  from  suffering  fatigue,-  he  sprang  from  his  horse 
with  a  light  bound,  and  his  countenance  was  as  free  from  gloom  as  it  had 
been  before  the  arrival  of  the  .Grand  Duke  of  Tuscany. 

"Lacy,"  said  he,  taking  the  arm  of  the  Field  Marshal,  "I  am  about 
to  explain  to  you  the  cause  of  my  over-politeness  to  my  abhored  ene- 
my. You  must  have  been  astounded  at  the  orders  I  have  been  giving 
to-day." 

*  The  Kmppror's  own  wordo.    Soe  Ornj^-Hofflnafo.r  I,  p.  4^1. 


'•To  tell  the  truth,  I  was  purprised.  P>ut  I  thought  that  in  tlie  noble- 
ness of  your  heart,  sire,  you  were  proving  to  me  that  }-ou  had  relinquish- 
ed all  thoughts  of  reveiijjje." 

"Nevertheless,  Lacy,  my  hate  is  unappeascJ  and  1  have  k-pt  i;ny  word. 
I  liave  alrciidy  had  iny  revenge.  1  have  saved  the  King  of  i'rusbiafrom 
the  bullet  of  an  assassin.  "* 


CHAPTER  XXIf. 

A  LETTER  TO  THE  EMPRESS    OF  RUSSIA. 

With  flushed  face  and  panting  bosom  Maria  Theresa  paced  her  cabi- 
net, sometimes  glancing  with  angry  eyes  at  the  heap.s  of  papeiis  that  co- 
vered her  escritoire,  then  wandering  hastily  to  and  fro,  perfectly  insensi- 
ble to  the  fatigue  which  in  her  advancing  years  generall}''  overwh^jlmed 
her  whenever  she  attempted  to  move  otherwise  than  Iwsurely.  The 
Empress  had  received  bad  news  from  every  Cj.uarter,  but  worst  of  all 
were  the  tidings  that  came. from  Bohemia.  For  more  than  a.  year  the 
Austrian  and  Prussian  armies  had  threatened  one  auother ;  and  yet  no- 
thing had  been  accomplished  towards  the  settlement  of  the  Bavarian 
succession. 

Maria  Theresa,  shocked  by  the  threat  which  Joseph  had  made  to  her 
through  the  Grand  Duke  of  Tuscany,  had  broken  off  her  negotiations 
■with  jbVederic,  and  had  sacrificed  the  dearest  wishes  of.  her  heart  to  ap- 
pease the  fury  of  her  ircpeiial  son.  Notwithstanding  this,  no  battle  had 
been  fought,  for  Frederic  was  quite  as  desirous  as  the  Empress  could 
be,  to  avoid  an  engngement.  He  had  declared  war  against  his  old  ad- 
versary with  the  greatest  alacrity  ;  but  when  it  became  necessary  to  ma- 
Bouvre  his  army,  the  hero  of  so  many  fights  was  obliged  to  confess  in 
the  secresy  of  his  owii  heart  that  his  gou'y  hand  was  impotent  to  draw 
the  swOrd,  and  his  tottering  Irmbs  were  (itteir  to  sink  into  an  arm  phair 
than  to  bestride  a  v,'ar-horse. 

Irritable,  crabbed,  and  low-spirited,  his  campaign  had  proved  a  disas- 
trous ftiilure  ;  instead  of  planning  battles  he  had  planned  pillaging  and 
foraging  expeditions,  and  his  hungry  and  disaffected  army  had  converted 
the  lich  fields  of  Bohemia  into  a  gloomy  and- desolate  waste.  At  last 
succoring  wnnter  came  to  the  help  of  the  oppressed  Bohemians,  and  both 
armies  went  into  winter  quarters. 

Maria  Theresa  had  employed  the  season  which  forced  her  ambitious 

*  This  whole  chapter  is  hostorical  See  Eied'er's  archives  for  1881,  and  Qro8»-IIcrfBn{jer  I,  p 
427. 


son  to  inacfivity  in  now  negotiations  for  peace.  (,oiint  \"on  Meicy  had 
sou-^ht  for  intervention  on  the  part  of  France,  and  Baron  Thugut  Imd 
made  new  proposals  lo  Piuss^ia.  Until  to-day  the  Empress  bad  indul 
•^ed  the  hope  of  terminating  this  unhappy  and  ridiculous  war;  but  her 
hopes  had  been  frustraliMi  by  the  dispatches  she  had  jui-t  luceived  from  • 
France  and  Bohemia.  Coupt  Von  Mercy  wrote  that  so  for  from  accept- 
ing the  role  of  mediator,  the  French  King  expostulated  with  him  upon 
the  injustice  of  the  claims  of  Austria,  and  earnestly  rccommenc'ed  their 
total  relinquishment  as  the  only  road  to  peace. 

Another  courier  from  Joseph  announced  that  the  winter  season  hav- 
ing almost  closed,  he  hoped  that  he  might  now  be  permitted  to  prose- 
cute the  war  with  ftrntncss  and  vigor.  Circumstances  were  favorable  to 
Austria,  for  Geneial  Wurmser  had  succeeded  in  surprising  the  Prince  of 
Philippsthal,  and  iu  driving  the  Prussian  ^rarrison  from  their  stronghold. 
The  Emperor  therefore  declared  his  intention  of  giving  battle  to  Frederic 
that  he  might  at  one  stroke  free  Bohemia  from  the  presence  of  a  tyran- 
nical and  merciless  enemy. 

These  were  the  tidings  which  had  flooded  the  heart  of  the  Empress 
with  anguish. 

"  I  must  have  peace,"  thought  she,  as  perfectly  unconscious  of  the  fact, 
she  still  paced  the  floor  of  her  cabinet.  "  1  cannot  go  to  my  grave  bur- 
thened  with  the  crime  of  an  unrighteous  war.  Peace  !  Peace  !  Heaven- 
ly father,  send  us  peace  !  Something  I  must  do,  and  that  at  once  ;  and 
if  my  son  still  vituperates  his  unhappy  mother,  1  know  that  ray  subjects, 
the  people  of  Germany  and  of  all-Europe  will  sustain  me  by  their  ap- 
probation."      . 

Filled  with  the  idea,  she  approached  her  escritoire  and  again  her  eyes 
rested  upon  the  papers  and  pamphlets  that  ky  there.  Rer  cheeks  flush- 
ed and  her  eyes  flashed  fire,'as  lifting  from  the  df)«k  a  heavy  package, 
she  threw  it  down  with  violence,  exclaiming, 

"  Has  that  Schrotter  been  printing  another  absurd  pamphlet,  braying 
to  the  world  of  our  rights  to  BavAria'?  1  must  stop. that  man's  mouth, 
and  teach  him  discretion  !" 

Here  the  Empress  rang  and  gave  two  n'ossages^il^tbe  pBge  who  an- 
swered the  summons.     "  Let  Prince  Kaunitz  be  informed  that  I  would# 
be  happy  to  see  his  Highness 'as  soon  as  possible. — Send  a  messenger 
to  Counsellor  Von  Schrotter,  and  let  him  be  here  in  an  hour." 

So  saying,  the  Empress,  at  last  feeling  that  she.i"w'as  exercising  her 
limbs  beyond  all  power  of  endurance,  sank  into  an  aim-chair  and  con- 
tinued her  reflections;  They  were  any  thing  iDut  consolatory.  She  could 
not  humble  herself  to  make  any  more  proposals  to  Frederic.  He  was 
,so' arrogant  that  lie  might  answer  in  such  a  way  as  to  make  war  the  only 
alternative  for  Austria.  But  where  to  go  for  a  mediator'?  France  had 
refused,  and  Marie  Antoinette  had  with  difhculty  obtained  from  her  hus- 
band a  promise  not  to  sustain  Prussia. 

"I  have  a  most  disobliging  son-in-law  in  Louis,"  thought  the  Em- 
press, .*'and  if  Marie  Antoinette  were  not  in  a  condition  where  anxiety 


(A'  luiii.l  migliL  be  latal  to  her  life,  1  should  very  soon  speak  philnly  to 
the  KitJg,  and  let  him  understand  distinctly  liow  little.  1  care  ibr  his  ap- 
proval or  disapproval  ! — Br.t  I  must  be  patient  for  my  daiighter's  sale; 
;iad  if  she  gives  birth  to  a  Dauphin,  !  shall  be  too  happy  to  quarrel  with 
her  f tubborn  lung.--7-I  h.id  reckoned  upon  Frajnc^,  hovr.ver.  nnd  1  am 
disappointed  and  grieved." 

So  saying  tlie  Kmpress  bent  her  Uead  once  more  among  her  papers, 
find  this  time  she  opened  a  dispatch  from  her  Ambassador  nt  St.  Peters- 
burg.    She  began  to  read. 

"The  King  of  Prussia  is  asking  succor  from  Eussia.  The  Empress 
is  quite  ready  to  grantit,  and  has  already  marched  an  auxiliary  force  in- 
to Gallicia,  But  she  exacts  that  her  troops  .  shall  act  independently  of 
Frederic,  and  requires  of  him  for  the  prosecution  oY  her  war  with  Tur- 
key,  a  subsidy  of  two  million  of  thalers.  The  King  is.  indignant  at  her 
exactions,  so  that  the  opportunity  now  offers  to  dissolve  this  dangerous 
alliance.  ]f  the  Empress-queen  could  bring  herself  to  pen 'a  letter  to 
Catharine  requesting  hi^r  int<^rvention -"  -;;, 

"  No,"  exclaimed  Maria  Theresa,  interrupting  herself,  "  to  such  de- 
gradation I  9annot  stoop  !  It  would  be  too  base!"  She  threw  down 
the  letter  and  frowning  leaned  her  head  upon  her  hand..  '-How,"  thought 
she,  "could  a  virtuous  woman  write  to  ihat  abandoned  wretch  who  de- 
grades the  divine  birthright  of  ro>:ilty  by  a  dissolute  life  !  How  could 
Alaria  Theresa  so  humiliate  herself  as  to  ask  succor  of  such  a  Messalina !" 

The  entrance  of  a  page  interrupted  the  Empress's  meditations.  His 
Highness,  Prince  Kaunitz,  regretted  tKat  he  was  unable  to  obey  licr  Ma- 
jest)- 's  commands,  as  he  was  sick  and  not  able  to  leave  his  room. 

The  Empress  dismissed  the  page  and  frowned  anew, 

"I  know  perfectly  well  the  nature  of  his  malady,"  thought  she. 
"  Whenever  he  desires  to  consult  with  the  Emperor  before  seeing  me, 
he  falls  sick.  Whenever  danger  is  ahead  and  affairs  look  stormy,  he  re-, 
treats  to  his  hole  like  a  discreec  fox.  I  wish  to  heaven  that  1  too  could 
take  to  my  bed  and  shut  my  .eyes  to  all  that  is  transpiring  around  us  ! 
— But  no — "  continued  the  Empress  with  a  pang  of  self-reproach,  "  I 
have  no  right  to  retire  from  the  post  of  danger.  I  must  act,  and  act 
lliuickly,  or  Joseph  will  be  before  me.  Oh,  my  God,  help  me  in  my  great 
need  1"  • 

.  She  re-read  the  dispatches  from  her  different  Ambassadors,  and  each 
one  breathed  the  same  spirit.  From  every  court  in  Europe  came  dis- 
approbation and.  blame.  Every  one  of  the  great  powers  counselled 
peace — speedy  peace,  lest  all  should  be  drawn  into  the  sUife,  and  Aus- 
tria left  to  the  humiliation  of  struggling  single-handed  against  every 
other  nation  in  Europe. 

The  tears  of  the  Empress  flowed  fast.  She  could  see  no  help  on  earth, 
and  how  could  she  feef  otherwise  than  resentful  towards  the  Minister 
and  the. son  who  had  brought  her  into  this  mortifying  position?  Sud- 
denly she  dried  her  tears  and  once  more  took  up  the  dispatch  from  St. 
Petersburir.     The  silence  in   that  little  room  was  broken  only  bv  her 


MAJUli  AMUlNtriTE. 


1)3 


sighs,  and  The  rustling  of  the  papers  which  she  he'd  in  her  hand.  She 
paused,  and  those  trembling  hands  Jell  into  her  lap.  She  threw  back 
Pier  head  as  if  trying  to  make  a  difficult  resolve. 

"  There  is  one  way — but  oh,  how  disgraceful ! '  rnurinured  she.  Again 
the  gathering  tears  were  dashed  from  her  eyes,  and  she  tried  to  read. 
.  "It  must  be,"  sighed  she,  as  «l)e  replaced  the  paper  on  the  desk,  "and 
if  so,  it  must  be  done  quiclily.  Oh,  my  Creator !  Thou  alone  knowest 
how  fearful  to  my  heart  is  this  sacrifice  of  womarly  pride;  but  thou 
wiliest  my  humlNation,  and  1  ^ubuIit  ! — Let  tne  drink  the  chalicef 

She  took  up  her  pen  and  began  to  write.'  Ofien  she  hesitated— Ithrew 
aside  her  sheet  and  took  another.  Sometimes  she  read  aloud  wSnt  she 
had  written  ;  then  starting  at  the  sound  of  the  words,  resumed  h^r  wri- 
ting in  silence.  At  last  the  task"  was  accomfilishedand  her^yesscanned 
the  concluding  paragraph.  / 

With  the  conviction  that  my  honor  could  be  entrusted  tc  no  abler 
hands,  1  leave  it  to  your  Majejity,  in  conjunction  with  France,  to  make 
such  propositions  as  you  may  esteem  best  calculated  to  promdte  peace. 
In  this  trust  1  remain,        -  I 

Your  Majesty's  true  and  devoted  sister, 

Maria  Thirksa.* 

As  she  read  the?e  words,  the  cheeks  of  the  Empress  crimstied  with 
shame,  and  bur}ing  her  face  in  her  hands,  she  sobbed  aloud.  IVhen  the 
paroxysm  cif  her  grief  was  over,  her  face  was  very  pale  .and.'her  eyes 
dim  and  swollen,  , 

"  1  must  complete  the  humiliation,"  thought  she  ;  then  foldhg  the  let- 
ter, it  was  directed  "To  her  Majesty  the  Empress  of  Russia.' 
^      She  took  up  a  tiny  gold  bell,  and  ringing  it  so  that  it  gaveiut  but  a 
few  strokes,  a  portiere  was  raised,  and  Koch  entered  the  roonr 

"Take  a  copy  of  this  letter,  and  send  a  couriei*Vith  it  to  t.  Peters- 
berg.  1  have  at  last  yielded  to  the  wishes  €f  my  counselloriand  have 
written  to  the  Empress  of  Russia,  Still  Koch — not  a  word  !-My  heart 
is  not  yet  strong  enough  to  bear  the  grief  and  shame  of  this  bur." 

The  private  Secretary  had  scarcely  left  the  room  when  thl  page  re- 
entered announcing  Counsellor  Von  Schrotter. 

"  Ah."  said  the  Empress,  "  he  comes  at  the  right  moment.;  I  am  just 
in  the  mood  to  castigate  those  who  have  displeased  me," 

*  This  letter  of  the  Empress  l»-^t  In  the  archives  of  St.  Petersburg.    Coxe,  who  ipleg  it  word 
for  word,  saw  inhere  himeelf.    See  Coxe's  History  of  th«  House  of  Austria.    Vol  4We  892. 


.(OSEI'H    I'Uli  SKCOiM). 


CHAPTER   XXI n. 

THE  GRATITUDE  OF  PRINCES. 

•  Ti:e  messnf!;e  of  the  Empress  had  been  received  by  Counsellor  Von 
Schroder  Avith  rapture.  His  heart  throbbed  so  joyfully  that  its  every 
beat  still fc  the  quick  blood  bounding.;  through  his  veins.  The  hour  for 
ackno^'ledgement  of  his  long  tried  services  had  arrived.  For  years  he 
had  lived,  a  life  of  labor,  research,  and  patient  investigation.  Among 
the  '"leecs,  parchments  and  dusty  green  tables  of  the  Chancery,  his  youth 
had  fad(d  to  middle  age;  and  of  its  early  hopes  had  retained  but  one 
single. eirthly  ambition  ;  it  was  that  of  Uiking  a  place  among  learued 
men  ah(  becoming  an  authority  of  some  vpeight  in  the  judicial  world. 
His  panphlets  on  the  Bavarian  succession  had  lifted  him  to  fame,,  and 
now  am'Ug  his  countrymen  his  name  was  beginning  to  be  quoted  as  that 
of  a  grest  and  accomplished  jurist.  Nothing  was  needed  to  complete 
tlje  meaure  of  his  simple  joys,  save  the  approbation  of  the  Court  and 
some  acnowledgement  on  the  part  of  his  Sovereign  of  the  fidelity  with 
which  h(had  labored  for  so  many  years  in  her  behalf 

This  fecious  tribute  he  was  called  upon  to  receive!  He  was  to 
speak  hiiself  with  the  Empress  of  Austria!  So  excited  was  he  by  the 
thought* 'lat  the  strong  man  trembled  from  head  to  foot;  he  was  even 
more  agiated  than  he  had  been  twenty  years  before,  when  he  had  re- 
ceived hi  diploma  as  doctof  of  laws.  Pale,  but  inexpressibly  happy, 
he  stoodupon  the  threshold  oFthe  Empress's  cabinet,  and  awaited  her 
permissin  to  approach  and  kiss  her  beloved  and  honored  hand. 

MariaFheresa  saw  him  and  spoke  not  a  word.  She  sat  immovable 
in  her  an-c^air,  darting  lightning  glances  upon  the  unconscious  Coun- 
sellor, aii  growing  every  moment  more  enraged  at  the  thought  of  his 
impertinnt  researches,  until  the  storm  burst  with  all  its  fury  upon  his 
bead,  .^le  Empress  clutched  the  pamphlets  which  lay  near  her  upon 
the  tabu  and  rising  from  her  chair,  strode  through  the  room  to  the  door 
where  thunhappy  author  stood. 

"Did'Ou  write  these  broclmres  ?''^  asked  she. 
"  Yesyour  Majesty,"  said  Von  Schrotter  with  ahappy  smile. 
"  Rea  the  title  page." 

Von  ^hrOtter  read  :  "  The  rights  and  measures  of  her  imperial,  royal 
and  aposolic  Majesty  in  reference  to  the  Bavarian  succession." 
"  Novread  the  title  of  your  first  pamphlet." 

"  Imp-tial  thoughts  on  the  various  questions  arising  from  the  succes- 
session  (Maximilian  Joseph." 

"  Youicknowledge  the  authorship  of  these  two  brochures  ?^^ 


MARJE  ANTOINEITR.  95 

"  !  am  proud  to  acknowledge  them,  your'  Majesty." 

"  Whence  it  follows  that  vou  are  proud  to  be  the  cii'Jse  of  the  unholy 
war  which  now  rajrcs  throughout  Germany,"  said  the  Empress  in  a  voicft 
of  indignation.  ''  It  is  you,  then,  whose  pen  hjis  metaniorphosod  itself  in- 
to a  sword  wherewith  lo  take  the  lives  cif  thousands  *if  f^ood  and  honest 
riKU !  What  light  h;vd  yon  to  publish  '  impartial  ti^joutihts'upon  the  Ba- 
varian siicco-^sion  f  I  suppose  you  had  an  idea  that  in  so  doing  you 
•were  proving  to  the  world,  what  an  important  part  you  play  iii  the  afiiiirs 
«jf  the  nation  !" 

'•  Your  Majesty,"  stammerefl  Von  Schrittter,  utterly  at  a  loss  to  under- 
stand his  crime,  '•  Yoiir  Majesty  through  i'rince  Kaun it/,  conveyed  to  me 
your  entire  satisfaction  with  my  researches  into  the  imperial  archives^ 
and  the  Emperor  himself  requested  lae  lo  wiile  the  second  pamnhlct,'* 

"  I  am  in  no  wise  indebted  (o  you  for  your  complaisance,"  replied  the 
Empress,  "for  y«nr  ink  has  changed  itself  into  bJood  and  your  stupi<l 
•vagaries,  hatched  in  the  comfortable  quiet  of  your  own  room,  have  driv- 
en my  poor  soldiers  from  their  homes  out  into  the  pitiless  storm  of  har(i- 
ship,  danger,  and  death.  What  right  had  you  to  meddle  with  the  diQi- 
culties  of  the  succession"?  Did  you  expect  that,  in  gratitude  for  your 
valuable  services  to  the  crown,  1  would  reward  you  with  a  tiite  and  an 
estate  in  Bavaria?" 

"No,  your  Mftjesty,"  replied  Von  Schrottf>r  blushing,  "  I  was  but  do- 
ing my  duty  as  a  jurist  and  a  civil  officer  of  the  crown."  • 

"And  do  yoii  suppose  thati  you  have  succeeded  in  proving  anything 
•with  your  rubbish  T'  asked  the  Empress  scornfully.  "  Do  you  imagine 
that  any  one  would  take  the  trouble  to  read  your  balderdash?" 

"  In  defending  the  claims  of  the  ciown,  I  was  performing  an  act  of  sa- 
cred duty  towards  my  country,"  replied  Von  SchroLter,  emboldened  td 
reply  V)y  a  just  sense  of  the  indignity  offered  him. 

"  Oh,  yes,  1  know  something  (jf  the  vanity  of  authors,"  said  the  Em- 
press, "They  imagine  themselves  to  be  Atlas,  each  one  •with  the  world 
upon  his  shoulders,  which  niust  certainly  fall,,  if  they  are  not  there  to  up- 
hold it.  ],  however,  take  the  liberty  of  judging  that  if  they  were  all  to 
be  blown  to  atoms,  nobody  would  be  the  worse  for  their  disappearance. 
What  has  come  of  your  writings  ?  A  paper  war  of  such  dimensions  that 
I  think  the  foul  fiend  must  have  plucked  alLlhe  geese  in  Avernus,  and 
have  thrown  their  quills  at  your  heads.  "What  with  your  imbecile  pens, 
nobody  knows  who  is  right !" 

"  But  your  Majesty,"  remonstrated  Von  Schrotter,  "  discussion  is  iii- 
dispen.^able  to  the  discovery  of  truth,  and  as  1  am  sure  that  I  have  con- 
tributed to  this  discovery,  1  cannot  regret  what  1  have  done." 

"Ah  indeed  !"  exclaimed  the  enraged  Empress.  "  You  think  you  havo 
contributed  to  the  discovery  of  truth  ! — I  will  tell  you  to  what  you  have 
contributed,  sir.  You  are  the  cause  that  the  Emperor  became  so  head- 
strong on  the  subject,  that  sooner  than  give  up  Bavaria,  he  has  involved 
me  in  war — you  are  the  cause  that  tho  whole  world  has  had  something 
to  oay  on  tho  sirliject  of  our  claims,  whereas  had  you  held  your  tongue, 


1)6  ^  JObEl^H   THE  ."SECOND. 

they  might  have  passed  .for  what  they  ate  not — ^ja=!t.  You  are  the  c^use 
that  in)  day.s  are  spent  in  sorrow,  and  ray  nights  arc  sleepless ;  that  in 
the  de.spair  of  my  heart,  I  htive  been  reduced  to  write  to  a  woman  whom 
1  despise!  Ye?,  of  ail, this,  you  are  the  cause,  and  more  than  this — ^you 
will  be  guilty  of"  my  death,  for  I  repeat  to  you  that  this  war  has  broken 
my  heart,  and  will  be  the  last  nail  in  my  coffm.*  M^hen  my  people 
then  mourn  for  my  death,  (and  I  hcfpe  that  they  will-  regret  me.)  you 
may  boast  of  having  compassed  it  yourself,  and  from  my  grave  1  shall 
arise  to " 

"  No  more,  your  Majesty,  no  more.  Spare  me,  in  mercy,  sobbed 
he,  "  if  you  would  not  see  me  die  at  your  feet." 

"  And  I  presume  you  would  consider  it  a  great  misfortune  for  Austria 
iTyou  were  no  longer  able  to  unsheath  your  goose-qnili  in  her  defence. 
There  is  no  danger  of  your  dying  from  the  wounds  inflicted  by  my  ton- 
gue, but  I  am  resolved  that  you  shall. carry  their  marks  to  the  grave 
witn  you.     This  ie  all  1  had  to  say  to  you,  you  are  dismissed." 

"  But,  your  Majesty,"  replied  Von  Schrotter,  "  1  have  some  thing  to 
say — 1  must  defend  myself." 

*' You  must  defend  yourself !". cried  Maria  Theresa  surveying  him  with 
a  look  of  ineffable  disdain.  "Defend  yourself  to  God — I  am  not  dis- 
posed to  listen  to  your  defence."  . . 

"  But  your  Majesty " 

"  Peace  !"  thundered  the  Empress.  "  Who  dares  speak  when  I  have 
orrlered  him  from  my  presence'?     Go  home  and  ponder' my  words." 

So  saying  she  walked  back  to  her  seat.  But  seeing  that  Von  Schrofc- 
tet's  lips  were  parted  as  if  in  an  attempt  to  say  something,  she  snatched 
her  bell  and  rang  it  so  loud  that  in  its  clang,  his  words  were  lost. 

"  Counsellor  Von  Schrotter  is  dismissed,"  said  she  to  the  page. 
"  Open  the  doors  that  he  may  pass." 

Von  Schrotter  gasped  out  a  convulsive  sigh,  and  scarcely  knowing 
what  he  did,  turned  one  last  sad  look  upon  his  cruel  Sovereign,  and  bow- 
ing his  head,  left  the  room. 

When  hia  tali,  majestic  form  had  disappeared  from  her  sight,  the  Em- 
press said, 

"  Ah  ! — That  outburst  has  done  me  good.  And  now  that  I  have  dri- 
ven  away  humiliation  by  ^ger,  1  shall  go  and  pray  to  God  to  bless  the 
sacrifice  1  have  made  to-day  for  the  good  of  my  people  " 

She  rang  the  bell,  assembled  her  ladies  of  honor,  and  with  them  en- 
tered the  private  chapel  which  had  lately  been  added  to  her  own  apart- 
ments. She  knelt  before  the  first  prie-Dieu  that  presented  itself,  and 
her  attendants  knelt  around  her. 

Whilst  the  Empress  was  praying,  Von  Schrotter  returned  to  the  home 
which  an  hour  sooner  he  had  left  with  a  heart  so  full  of  hope  and  ecstaoj. 
He  had  not  a  word  for  his  old  housekeeper,  who  opened  the  door  to  ad- 
mit him,  and  motioning  away  the  servant  who  would  have  shown  him 
into  the  dining-room,  he  ascended,  the  stair-case  with  slow,  uncertain 
*  Maria  Thvreea'a  ov  ii  ircrde. 


EMl'KKUK  UK  AUbTKLft  97 

steps,  his  hands  clinging  to  the  balustrade,  his  head  so  heavy  that  he 
scarce  could  bear  its  weight.  The  servants  stood  below  in  sorrowful 
aniazenaent.  They  had  never  seen  their  master  so  agitated  in  his  life 
before ;  they  could  scarcely  believe  that  this  ghastly  being  was  the  dig- 
nified and  stately  man  who  had  left  them  but  an  hour  before.  Sudden- 
ly they  started,  for  surely  they  heard  a  loud  laugh  from  the  study,  but 
what  a  laugh  ! — so  wild,  so  unearthly  that  it  sounded  like  the  dreadful 
mirth  of  a  madman  ! — Then  all  wr.s  silent.  Presently  there  came  the 
sound  of  a  heavy  fall. 

"That  is  our  master!  Sonne  misfortune  has  befallen  him,"  cried  the 
servants,  hurrying  up  the  stairs  and  bursting  into  the  room. 

On  the  floor,  surrounded  by  the  books  which  had  been  the  pride  and 
solace  of  a  harmless  life,  Iny  the  Counsellor  weltering  in  his  blood. 

"  He  has  broken  a  blood-vessel !"  cried  the  housekeeper  with  a  sob, 
while  the  other  servant  ran  for  a  physician.  The  old  woman  raised  her 
dear  master's  head  and  his  bloody  lips  parted  with  a  ghastly  smile. 

"  This  is  the  gratitude  of  princes!"  murmured  he  almost  inaudibly. 
*'  Such  is  the  reward  of  him  who  loves  his  country !" 

"  What  is  it,  my  dear,  dear,  master  ?"  faltered  the  faithful  servant,  in 
vain  seeking  to  penetrato  the  meaning  of  his  words.  "  Why  do  you 
stare  at  me  so  horribly  ?     What  has  distressed  you?" 

He  moved  as  though  he  would  have  raised  his  head.  "  This  is  Aus- 
tria's gratitude,"  cried  he  in  a  loud  voice  ;  then  forth  from  his  lips  gur- 
gled the  purple  stream  of  life,  and  his  words  died  into  hoarse,  inaudible 
mutterings. 

The  physician  came  in,  followed  by  the  valet,  and  together  they  raised 
the  sufferer  and  placed  him  upon  his  bed.  The  doctor  then  felt  his  pulse 
and  his  chest,  and  bent  down  to  catch  his  lireathings.  He  shook  his 
head  mournfully  and  called  to  the  weeping  servants. 

"He  is  dying,"  said  he.  "Some  fearful  shock  that  he  has  received 
has  inducfd  a  hemmorrhage,  which  in  a  few  hours  will  end  his  life." 

Maria  Theresa  rose  from  her  prayers,  comforted  and  light  of  heart. 
And  as  she  left  the  chapel,  the  man  whom  she  had  crushed  to  the  earth 
by  her  unjust  anger,  drew  his  last  sigh.* 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

FREDERIC    THE  GREAT. 


Ktng  Frsdekic  and  his  Prussians  were  still  encamped  at  Wildschiitz. 
His  army  was  weary  of  inactivity,  and  every  morning  the  longing  eyes 
of  his  soldiers  turned  towards  the  little  gray  house  at  the  end  of  the  vil- 
*  Th'B  whole  chapter  is  historical.    Hormayr,  Austrian  Plutarch,  vol  .8. 


98  JjOSEf'B    I'HP^  SECOND. 

\me  where  the  King  and  bis  staff  were  qnartered,  vai'ily  hoping  to  see 
t'lioir  Fritz  in  the  saddle,  eager,  bold  and  daring  as  he  had  ever  been  un- 
til now.  The  men  were  destitute  of  every  thing.  Not  only  their  food 
was  exhausted,  but  their  forage  also.  Bohemia  had  been  plundered  iin- 
tii  nothing  remained  for  man  or  beast.  The  inhabitants  had  fled  to  the 
interior,  their  villages  and  (/arms  were  a  waste,  and  still  the  King  of 
Prussia  insisted  that  his  army  should  subsist  upon  the  enemy. 

The  men  were  in  despair,  and  the  ofiicers  began  to  apprehend  a  mu- 
tiny, for  the  former  were  surly,  and  no  amount  of  conciliatory  words 
could  appease  their  hunger  or  feed  their  horses, 

"  We  must  see  the  King,  we  must  speak  to  old  Fritz  !"  cried  the  mal- 
contents, and  with  this  cry  a  crowd  of  artillerymen  made  their  way  to 
headquarters. 

■"  We  must  see  the  King !     Where  is  old  Fritz?     Has  he  ceased  to 
care  for  his  soldiers'?"  repeated  the  crowd. 

'•  No  friends,  I  am  ready  to  listen,"  said  a  soft  voice,  which  neverthe- 
less was  heard  above  the  din,  and  the  King,  clad  in  his  well-known  uni- 
form, appeared  at  the  window. 

■  The  soldiers  received  bini  with  a  cheer,  and  at  sithfc  of  the  well-belov- 
ed countenance,  they  forgot  their  jieed  and  shouted  for  joy. 

*'  What  js  iti"  said  Frederic,  when  the  tumult  had  died  away. 

One  of  the  men,  as  spokesman,  stepped  forward.  "  We  wanted  to 
see  our  old  Fritz  once  more ;  v/e  can  scarcely  believe  that  he  sees  our 
wants  and  will  do  nothing  to  relieve  them." 

"  You  see  wm(?,"  said  Frederic,  smiling,  "and,  as  you  perceive,  I  am  . 
scarcely  better  oiF  than  yourselves.     Do  you  think  this  a  fit  residence 
for  a  King?" 

"  Jt  is  a  dog-kennel !"  crif^d  the  soldiers.         .  ■* 

"  And  is  that  all  you  have  to  say  to  me  ?"  , 

"  No,  sire,  it  is  not.  If  our  King  can  do  nothing  for  us,  at  least  let 
him  rescue  our  horses  from  starvation.  We  are  men,  and  our  reason^ 
helps  us  to  bear  privations,  but  it  is  a  sin  to  keep  our  horses  here  with- 
out food.  We  beseech  your  Majesty,  give  us  forage  for  our  horses  !" 
And  the  others  repeated  in  chorus  :  "Forage,  forage,  give  us  forage  for 
our  horses !" 

Meanwhile,  the  King  had  closed  his  window  and  had  retired  to  the 
other  end  of  his  house.  This  made  the  soldiers  frantic,  and  they  scream- 
ed and  shouted  louder  than  ever, 

"  Give  us  forage  for  our  horses !"  .  . 

Suddenly  the  voice  which  had  so  often  led  them  to  victory,  was  heard 
at  the  door, 

^*  Peace,  you  noisy  rebels,  peace,  I  say '!" 

And  on  the  steps  before  his  wretched  cabin,  stood  Frederic,  surround- 
ed  by  the  principal  oificers  of  his  army. 

"  Sire,"  said  one  of  the  King's  staff,  "  shall  we  disperse  them  1" 

"  Why  so  1"  replied  Frederic  curtly.  "  Have  my  poor  soldiers  not  the 
right  to  appeal  t^)  ti^ie  for  help.     Speak,  my  children,  speak  without  fear." 


/ 

^J.VJl'KilUh  Of  AUSTRIA  :     I 

*'  Eorage,  sire,  forage — our  horses  are  dying  like  flies  !" 

"  You,  see,"  said  the  King  to  his  ofilcers,  tlicse  poor  fellows  ask  noth- 
ing for  themselves.     Why  is  it  that  they  have  no  forage  for  their  horsed  1" 

"  Sire,"  replied  the  officers  deprecatingly,  "  as  long  as  there  remained 
a  hay-stack,  or  a  store-house,  in  this  part  of  Bohemia,  your  Majes- 
ty's array  was  fed  by  the  enemy.  iJut  the  country  is  stripped  of  every- 
thing. The  inhabitants  themselves  have  beeniobliged  to  fly  from  starva- 
tion." 

"Starvation!"  echoed  the  King.  "  I  will  warrant  that  while  the  horses 
of  the  privates  arc  sulToring  for  lood,  those  of  the  ofiicers  are  well  pro- 
Tided." 

"  Your  Majesty !" 

"  Do  not  interrupt  me,  but  let  all  the  forage  belonging  to  the  chief 
officers  of  the  army,  be  brought  at  once  and  placed  before  these  men. 
They  can  wait  here  until  it  comes,  and  then  divide  it  between  them.  Are 
you  satisfied,  my.  children?" 

"Yes,  yes,"  cried  the  men  shouting  for  j6y  at  the  prospect  of  the 
abundance  about  to  be  vouchsafed  to  them. 

The  officers  on  the  contrary  were  deeply  humiliated,  and  beheld  the 
proceedings  with  gloomy  discontent. 

Frederic  pretended  not  to  perceive  their  dissatisfaction.  Ha  stood 
with  his  hat  drawn  down  over  his  brows,  leaning  for  support  upon  the 
crutch-cane  which  of  late  had  been  his  inseparable  companion.  Occa- 
sionally when  a  soldier  came  up  with  his  bundle  of  hay,  the  King  glan- 
ced quickly  around,  and  then  looked  down  again.  The  artillerymen 
gradually  ceased  their  noisy  demonstrations,  and  now  with  anxious  ex- 
pectant faces,  they  looked  at  the  King,  the  officers,  and  then  at- the  very 
small  amount  of  forage  which  was  being  placed  before  them.  Just  then 
an  Adjutant  bowed  to  the  King  and  announced  that  the  last  bundle  of 
hay  had  been  set  before  his  Majesty. 

Frederic  raised  his  eyes'and  sadly  contemplated  the  miserable  little 
heap  of  forage  which  betokened  Avitlr  so  much  significance  the  destitution 
of  his  brave  army.     "  Is  this  all  ?"  said  he. 

"  Yes,  sire,  all "  ' 

"  It  is  well — Now,"  continued  he  to  the  artillerymen,  "  divide  this 
between  you.  Had  my  officers  been  more  selfish, 'your  horses  would 
have  fared  better.  But  you  see  that  my  Generals  and  adjutants  are  as 
noble  and  self-sacrificing  as  yourselves;  and  unless  you  manage  to  for- 
age for  us  all,  we  shall  all  starve  together.  I  have  called  for  this  hay  to 
prove  to  you  that  your  officers  were  not  reveling  in  plenty  while  you 
were  suffering  for  want.  Take  it,  and  do  not  ask  for  that  which  I  can- 
not give  you." 

The  artillerymen  lookedalmost  ashamed  of  their  clamor,  while  the 
faces  of  the  officers  brightened,  and  their  eyes  turned  with  love  and  ad- 
miration upon  the  man  whose  tact  had  so  entirely  justified  them  to  their 
men.  '    • 

The  King  pretended  to  see  their  delight,  as  little  as  he  liacl  feigned  to 


lOO  JOSEPH  THii  6ECOKD. 

see  their  mqrtiticatioD.  He  seemed  wjiolly  absorbed  watching  the  sol- 
diers, wljo  were  now  striving  together  as  to  who  was  to  have  the  rem- 
nants of  forage  that  was  far  from  being  enough  to  allow  each  man  a 
bundle* 

Finally  Frederic  withdrew  to  his  cabin,  and  once  alone,  he  fell  iuto 
the  leathern  arm-ch^fir  which  was  the  only  piece  of  furniture  iu  the  room 
besides  a  bed  and  a  table. 

"  This  will  never  do,"  thought  he,  sorrowfully.  "  We  must  either  re- 
treat or  advance.  This  war  is  a  miserable  failure — the  impoteot  eifurt 
of  a  shattered  old  man  whose  head  is  powerless  to  plan  and  his  hand  to 
execute.  Ilow  often  since  I  entered  upon  this  farcical  campaign,  have 
I  repeated  those  words  of  Boileau, 

'  Malheureux,  laisse  en  paix  ton  cheval  vielllissant 
De  peur  que  tout  a  coup  essoufle,  sans  haleine, 
11  ne  laisse  en  tombant,  sou  maitrc  sur  I'arene.'f 

Why  did  I  undertake  this  war?  Why  had  I  not  discretion  enough  to 
remain  f.t  home,  and  secure  the  happiness  of  my  own  people." 

The  King  sighed,  and  his  head  sank  upon  his  breast.  He  sat  thus  for 
some  tirae  in  deep  discouragement ;  but  presently  he  repeated  to  him- 
self, "  why  did  I  undertake  this  war?" 

"  Why  ^"  echoed  he  aloud.  "  For  the  honor  and  safety  of  Germany. 
Hov/  sorely  soeyer  war  may  press  upon  my  age  and  inhrmities,  it  is 
my  duty  to  check  the  ambition  of  a  house  whose  greed  has  no  bounds 
save  those  which  are  made  for  it  by  the  resistance  of  anothei:  power  as 
resolute  as  itself.'' 

^  "  I  am,  therefore,  the  champion  of  German  liberties,  and  I  cannot — 
must  not  sheathe  ray  sword.  But  this  inactivity  is  demoralising  my 
army,  and  it  must  come  to  an  end.  We  must  retreat  or  advance — then 
let  us  advance !" 

Here  the  King  rang  his  bell.  A  valet  entered,  whom  he  ordered  to 
go  at  once  to  the  Generals  and  staff-officers  and  bid  them  assemble  at 
head- quarters  in  fifteen  minutes  from  that  time. 

" Gentlemen,"  said  the  King,  "we  cross  the  Elbe  to-morrow." 

At  these  words  every  countenance  there  grew  bright,  and  every  voice 
was  raised  in  one  hang  shout.  "  Long  live  the  King  !  Long  live  Frede- 
ric the  great !" 

The  King  tried  his  best  to  look  unmoved.  *'  Peace,  you  silly  old  fel- 
lows," said  he.  "What  do  you  suppose  the  boys  will  do  out  there,  if 
you  raise  such  a  clamor  in  doors?  Do  you  approve  of  the  move? 
Speak,  General  Keller." 

"  Sire,  while  out  on  a  reconnoissance  yesterday,  I  discovered  a  cross- 
ing where  we  may  go  safely  over  without  danger  from  the  enemy's 
bullets." 


•  Dohra's  Memoirs,  Vol.  1,  P.  168. 
t Frederic's  r,y(Q  words. 


'  CMfKKUH  vr  AUSTKlA  1  (J  I 

"  Good.     Arc  you  all  of  ono  mind  ?'" 

A  long  shoal  was  tho  answer,  -Mid  when  ii:  l)«cl  subsided,  the  King 
nodded  his  head.  "  We  nrc  all  of  one  mind,  tlit-n.  I'o-morrow,  we  en- 
gage the  enemy.  And  now,  to  horse !  We  iniiht,  reconnoitre  the  posi- 
tion which  General  Keller  has  chosen,  and  j>art  of  our  tro-jps  ii»ust  cross 
tonight." 


CHAPTER  XX\'. 

"  THE  DARKEST  IIOUK  IS  BEFORE  DAY." 

A  few  moments  later,  the  officers  were  mounted,  and  the  King's  horse 
stood  before  his  door.  Frederic,  coming  jorward  with  soniething  of  his 
yguthful  elasticity,  tried  to  raise  himself  into  the  saddle;  but  he  stopp- 
ed, and  with  an  expression  of  great  suftisring,  withdrew  his  foot  froni  the 
stirrup.  Tlie  old  hero  had  forgotten  that  the  gout  was  holding  him  pris- 
oner. His  face  flushed  with  disappointment,  as  he  called  his  lackeys  to 
his  help.  But  once  in  the  saddle,  the  King  struck  his  spurs  with  such 
violence  into  his  horse's  flanks,  that  the  animal  leaped  into  the  air,  and 
bounded  off  in  a  swift  gallop. 

Whether  Frederic  had  intended  to  prove  to  his  officers  that  he  was  as 
bold  a  horseman  as  ever,  or  whether  he  had  yielded  to  a  momentary 
impulse  of  .anger,  he  suffered  keenly  for  his  bravado ;  for  at  every  bound 
of  the  horse,  his  agony  increased.  Finally  he  could  endure  no  more  : 
be  came  to  a  complete  stand,  and  requested  his  at/ile  to  slacken  ihcir 
pace.  They  rode  on  in  perfect  silence,  the  officers  casting  stolen  glances 
at  the  King,  whose  lips  quivered,  while  his  face  grew  every  moment 
paler  with  suppressed  anguish.  But  he  bore  it  all  without  a  sigh  until 
they  had  reached  the  point  for  which  they  started.  Having  accurately- 
surveyed  it,  Frederic  turned  his  horse's  head  arid  rode  back  to  his  quar- 
ters. 

This  time  he  had  not  only  to  be  lifted  froraTiis  horse,  but  to  be  car- 
ried to  his  room.  Once  there,  he  signed  to  his  attendants  to  leave  him. 
He  felt  the  imperious  necessity  of  being  alone  with  hrs  nfllicted  mind 
and  body.     He  leaned  his  head  back  and  murmured 

"  Malheureux,  laisse  en  paix  ton  cheval  vieillissant !" — Then  closing  his 
eyes,  he  quoted  the  sacred  scriptures  for  the  first  time  in  his  life  without 
irrevertjnt  intention,  "The  spirit  is  willing,"  sighed  the  wretched  unbe- 
liever, "  but  the  flesh  is  weak."  He  remained  pondering  over  those 
truthful  words  for  several  moments ;  then  casting  his  eyes  over  the  va- 
rious objects  that  lay  upon  his  table,  they  lit  upon  the  little  leather-cov- 


102  JUSIJI'U    lUB  SECUNU 

ered  box  which  contained  his  flute.  For  some  time  past,  his  perplexi- 
ties had  been  so  greet  that  he  had  held  no  intercourse  .with  this  object 
of  his  life-long  affection  ;  but  now  he  felt  as  if  its  tones  would  be  con- 
solatory, and  with  trembling,  eager  hands,  he  unfastened  the  ease,  and 
raised  the  instrument  to  his  lips.  But  alas  !  the  flute,  like  its  adorer, 
was  Superannuated.  Wearily  came  its  feeble  notes  upon  the  air,  each 
one  hoarse  as  the  wind  .whistling  thr0u.<Th  a  ruined  Abbey..*  Frederic 
had  played  but  a  few  bars  of  his  Adagio  when  his  hands  fell  slowly,  and 
the  flute  rolled  upon  the  table.  He  contemplated  it  for  a  while;  then 
his  eyes  filled  with  tears  which  fell  rapidly  down  his  cheeks. 

A  mournful  smile  flickered  over  his  countenance.  "  Well,"  said  he  in 
a  low  voice,  "  I  suppose  there  is  nothinjj  disgracefol  in  the  tears  of  an 
old  man  over  the  last,  faithful  friend  of  his  youth."  With  these  words, 
he  replaced  the  flute  in  the  case  and  locked  it,  murmuring, 

"  Farewell  forever,  my  life-long  solace !" 

?iist  then  a  thousand  voices  shouted,  '•  Long  live  the  King !  Long  live 
old  Fritz  !" 

They  are  rejoicing  over  the  approaching  battle,"  thought  Frederic. 
"  But  their  hopes,  like  mine,  'ire  destined  to  be  crushed.  Instead  of 
crossing  the  Elbe;  we  must  retire  to  Silesia — Old  age  has  vanquished 
me,  and  from  such  a  defeat,  no  man  can  ever  rally."" 

"  Well,  well !  We  must  take  the  world  as  it  comes,  and  if  I  can  nei- 
ther fight  nor  play  on  the  flute,  I  can  still  talk  and  write.  My  eulogy 
on  Voltaire  is  not  yet  completed ;  I  must  finish  it  to-day  that  it  may  be 
read  before  the  Academy  at  Berlin  on  the  anniversary  of  his  death."f 

Selecting  from  among  his  papers  the  manuscript  he  wanted,  Frederic 
took  up  his  pen  and  began  to  write.  Gradually  the  songs  and  shouts  of 
the  soldiers  ceased,  and  the  King  \tas  consoling  himself  for  the  loss  of 
music  by  flinging  himself  into  the  arms  of  pbetry,  when  a  knock  was 
heard  at  his  door,  and  his  valet  announced  the  Secretary  of  Count  Gal- . 
litzin. 

Frederic's  heart  throbbed  with  joy,  and  his  great,  eagle  eyes  were  so 
strangely  lit  up,  that  the  valet  could  not  imagine  what  had  caused  such 
an  illumination  of  his  royal  master's  features. 

"Thugut,"  cried  the  King,  "IsThugut  here  again?  Admit  him  im- 
mediately." 

By  the  time  that  Baron  Thugut  had  appeared  at  the  doorj  Frederic 
had  forced  down  his  joy  so  that  he  received  the  Envoy  of  the  .Empress- 
Queen  with  creditable  indifference. 

"  Well,  Baron,"  said  he,  with  a  careless  nod,  "  you  come  again  !  When 
the  foul  fiend  comes  for  the  third  time,  he  must  either  bag  a  man's  soul, 
or  give  it  up  forever." 

"  I  feel  flattered,  sire,  by  the  comparison  your  Majesty  makes  of  me 
to  so  great  and  powerful  a  potentate,"  replied  the  Baron,  laughinig. 

•  It  was  during  the  w.'ir  of  the  Bavarian  succession  that  Frederic  found  himself  compelled  to 
give  up  the  flute.  His  cmltouchure  liad  be^n  destroyed  by  the  loss  of  his  front  teeth,  and  his  bands 
treinb  ed  so  that  he  could  scarcely  hold  hie  instniment ' 

t  Voltaire  died  in  May,  1798,  and  Frederic  wrote  a  poem  on  his  death  while  in  camp  in  Bohemia. 


Kvit'KKi.iK    ih   aU^rUlA  ]03 

"  You  believe  'm  the  devil,  then*  although  you  deny  the  Ijord.  " 

"  Certainly,  sire,  for  I  have  never  yet  seen  a  trace  of  the  one,  and  ihi- 
othor  1  meet  everywhere." 

"For  an  Ambf.=sa(Jor  of  !^faria  Theresa,  your  opinions  are  tolerable 
heteredox,"  said  Frederic.  *'  But  tel!  mc.  what  brings  you  hith3r  1  Yrni 
inust  not  expect  me  to  continue  our  iniorrupted  n-igutiations.  Jf  the 
Empfe?s-queen  sends  you  to  claim  ever  so  small  a  portion  of  Bavariii, 
I  tell  you  beforehand  that  it  is  useless  to  say  a  word.  Austrfa  must  re- 
nounce her  pretensions,  or  coptinne  the  w'ar." 

"Sire,  I  come  with  new  propositions.  Here  are  my  credentials,  if 
your  Miijesty  is  at  leisure  to  examine  them,  and  hoie  is  a  letter  from  the 
hand  of  my  revved  Sovereign." 

"  And  what  is  that  1"  asked  Frederic,  pointing  to  a  roll  of  paper:;  tied 
up  with  twine. 

"Those  are  my  documents,  together  with  the  papers  relating  to  the 
past  negotiations." 

"  I  Ihiniv  that  I  have  already  refused  to  go  over  those  negotiations," 
said  Frederic,  sharply  ;  and  without  furlhcr  ceremony,  he  broke  the  seal 
of  the  Empress's  letter.  While  the  King  read,  Thugut  busied  himself 
untying  his  roll  aiid  spreading  his  papers  out  upon  the  table. 

"This  is  nothing  but  a  letter  of  eredentirls,"  observed  the  King,  put- 
ting  it  down.  "  The  limpress  refers  me  to  you  for  verbal  explanations. 
I  am  ready  to  hear  them." 

"  Sire,  the  Empress-queen,  animated  by  a  heartfelt  desire  to  restore 
peace  to  Germany,  has  called  upon  France  and  Russia  to  settle  the  diffi- 
culties which,  to  her  sincere  regret,  have  arisen  between  herself  and "J'our 
Majesty.  These  two  powers  having  responded  favorably  to  my  Soyer- 
eign's  request " 

"Say,  rather,"  interrupted  Frederic,  "that  these  two  powers  havincr 
given  to  her  Majesty  of  Austria,  the  somewhat  peremptory  advice  to 
relinquish  her  pretensions  to  Bavaria " 

Baron  Thugut,  bowed  and  resumed  :  "  That  the  two  powers  may  have 
the  opportunity  of  conducting  their  negotiations  without  any  new  com- 
plications from  military  movements,  her  Mojesty,  the. Empress,  proposes 
an  arniistice  to  begin  from  to-day." 

Up  to  this  moment,  the  King's  eyes  had  been  fixed  upon  Thugut;  but 
as  he  heard  these  few  last  words,  ho  dropped  them  suddenly.  He  was 
so  overjoyed  that  he  was  afraid  to  betray  his  raptures  to  the  diplomatist. 
He  recovered  himself  in  time.  "  Did  you  come  through  my  caujp?" 
asked  he  of  the  Baron. 

"  Yes,  sire." 

"  You  heard  the  shouts  and  songs  of  my  Prussians.  Were  you  told 
that  I  shall  cross  the  Elbe,  and  offer  battle  to  your  Emperor  to-morrow?" 

"  Yes,  tir^,  I  was  told  so." 

"  And  at  the  very  moment  when  I  am  prepared  to  fight,  you  come  to 
me  with  proposals  of  armistice  ! — You  perceive  that  I  could  only  be 
brought  to  consent  to  a  truce  through  rny  consideration  IhrtheE.mpress, 


104  JUSKPB   rUK  SEC0N1>. 

provided  she  offered  sound  guarantecis  for  the  conclusion  of  an  honorable 
peace.     Let  us  hear  j*our  proposals." 

"  The  interview  between  the  King  and  the  secret  envoy  of  the  Empress 
was  long  and  animated.  V/hen  'the  latter  was  about  to  take  leave, 
Frederic  nodded  condescending,  saying, 

"Well — I  consent  to  make  this  sacrifice  to  the  wishes 'of  the  Empress. 
You  can  inform  her,  that  instead  of  giving  battle  to  the  Emperor,  as  I 
had  hoped  to  do  on  the  morrow,  I  shall  retreat  to  Silesia,  and  retire  into 
winter  quarters."  • 

"  And  your  Majesty,  promises  equitable  conditions,  and  will  consult 
with  the  Kussian  Ambassador?" 

"  I  promise ; — and  the  Etnpress-qiieen  may  rely  upon  me.  Fare- 
well." The  envoy  turned  tn  depart,  but  before  he  reached  the  door,  the 
King  called  him^ack. 

"Baron,"  said  he  with  a  significant  smile,  "you  have  forgotten  some- 
thing." Here  he  pointed  to  the  twine  which  had  fallen  on  the  floor  and 
lay  near  the  Baron's  chair.  "  Take  what  belongs  to  you,  I  never  enrich 
myself  with  the  possession  of  others." 

When  the  door  had  closed,  the  King  raised  his  eyes  to  heaven.  "  Is 
it  chance,  or  Providence,  that  l^as  succored  me  to-day  ?"  thought  he. 
"  Which  of  the  two  has  vouchsafed  nae  such  honorable  deliverance  from 
my  extremity  !" 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

THE  EMPEROR  AND  HIS  MOTHER. 

It  was  a  day  of  double  rejoicing  in  Vienna,  at  on'ce  the  celebration 
of  peace,  and  of  Maria  Theresa's  sixty-second  birth-day.  For  three 
months  tlie  seven  envoys  of  Austria,  Prussia,  Russia,  France,  Bavaria, 
Zweibrticken,  and  Saxony,  had  been  disentangling  the  threads  of  the  Ba- 
varian succession.  For  three  months  Joseph  had  hoped  and  prayed  that 
the  debates  of  the  peace  congress  might  come  to  naught,  and  its  delib- 
erations engender  a  veritable  war.  But  he  was  destined  to  new  disap- 
pointment. The  love  of  peace  had  prevailed.  Austria  had  renounced 
all  her  inheritance  in  Bavaria,  saye  the  Innvierte!,  and  had  declared  her 
treaty  with  Charles  Theodore  to  be  null  and  vo}d. 

The  people  of  Vienna  were  overjoyed.  They,  like  their  Empress, 
preferred  peace  to  increase  of  domain ;  and  they  hastened  to  offer  her 
their  sincerest  congratulations.  All  the  European  Ambassadors  were  in 
full  uniform,  and  Maria  Theresa  was  seated  on  a  throne  in  all  her  impe- 
rial regalia. 


EMPJttHUh  III*  flUblKlA-  l05 

She  was  radiant  with  smiles,  and  happiness  flashed  from  her  still 
bright  eyes  y  but  on  this  day  of  rejoicing  there  was  one  void  that  pained 
the  Empress: — it  was  the  absence  of  her  eldest  son,  since  his  return  to 
Vienna,  three  months  before,  there  had  never  yet  been  a  word  of  ex- 
planation between  Joseph  and  his  mother.  He  had  studiously  avoided 
being  alone  with  her,  had  never  made  his  appearance  in  council,  and^ 
when  documents  had  been  presented  to  him  lor  signature,  he  had  uo 
sooner  perceived  the  sign-manuil  of  the  Empress,  than  he  had  added  his 
own  without  examination,  or  coinm«nt. 

It  was  this  cold  submission  which  tortured  theheart  of  Maria  Theresa. 
She  would  have  preferred  recrimination  to  such  compliance  as  this — nt 
seemed  so  like  aversion,  so  like  despair ! 

When  the  ceremonies  of  the  day  were  over,  the  Empress  sent  a  mes- 
senger to  request  the  presence  of  her  son,  iu  her  own  private  apartments. 
The  messenger- returned,  and  a  few  moments  after,  was  followed  by  the 
Emperor. 

He  entered  the  room,  and  his  mother  came  eagerly  forward,  her  two 
hands  outstretched  to  greet  him.  "Thank  you,  my  dearest  son,"  said 
she,  allectiouately,  "for  comiug  so  promptly  at  my  request.  My  heart 
has  been  yearning  for  my  son,  and  1  have  longed  all  day  to  see  my  co- 
regent  and  Emperor  at  my  side." 

She  still  held  out  her  hands,  but  Joseph  affecting  not  to  see  them, 
bowed  with  grave  ceremony.  "  I  ahi  neither  Emperor  nor  Co-regont," 
replied  he,  "  I  am  but  the  son  and  subject  of  tlae  Empress,  and  as  such, 
f  have  already  congratulated  yonr  Majesty  with  the  rest," 

"  Were  your  congratulations  for  my  birth-day,  or  for  the  restoration 
of  peace,  my  son  ?" 

"The  birth-day  of  my  Empress  is  above  all  others,  a  day  of  gratula- 
tion  for  me,"  replied  Joseph  evasively. 

"  Then  peace  is  not  agreeable  to  you  ?" 

"  Pardon  me,  I  have"  every  reason  to  be  satisfied.  Have  v^e  not  ex- 
changed compliments  with  all  the  powers  of  Europe,  and  have  not  the 
people  of  Vienna  sung  ninety-nine  thousand  To  Deums  in  houoi-  of  the 
peace  of  Teschen  ?"^''     '  "  ^ 

"  I  see  that  you  do  not  approve  of  it,  Joseph,"  said  the  Empress,  who 
was  anxious  to  come  to  an  understanding  on  the  subject. 

"I  was  under  the  impression  that  I  had  signed  all  your  Majesty's  acts 
without  giving  any  trouble  whatever,"  was  the  cold  reply. 

"  But  you  did  it  unwillingly,  Ifear,  and  thought  of  your  mother  as  a 
weak  and  timid  old  woman.  Is  it,' not  so,  my  son?" 
.^  "  When  I  signed  the  treaty  I  thought  of  my  ancestor,  Charles  V.  Af- 
t6r  a  disastrous  campaign  in  Africa,  he  was  obliged  to  return  with  his 
fleet  to  Spain.  He  sailed,  it  is  true,  but  he  was  the  last  man  to  go  on 
board.  So  with  me — I  signed  the  articles^  of  peace,  but  was  the  last  one 
who  signed."* 

"Have  you  nothing  more  to  say  on  the  subject?     Are  you  not  glad 
♦  Joseph's  own  wards, 


that  thf  re  is  to  be  no  bloodshed  ?" 

"  A  sou  and  subject  has  no  right  to  sit  in  jiidgiuent  upon  the  actions 
of  hi-}  mother  and  Empress." 

"  But  you  are  more  than  a  subject',  you  arfe  an  Emperor." 

"  NOj  yoivr  Majesty,  [  am  like  the  Venetian  j^enerals.  Ji  war,  they 
cnminanded  the  armies,  .-j-nd  received  their  salaries  from  the  Republic. 
When  their  campaigns  were  over,  their  pensions  were  paid,  and  they 
?ank  back  into  obscurity." 

*'  Oh,  my  son,  these  are  hard  and  bitter  words,"  exclaimed  the  Em- 
press, pressing  her  hands  upon  hpr  heart.  "  I  see  plainly  that  you  are 
displeased  because  I  have  exchanged  a  doubtful  war  for  an  honorable 
peace." 

'"I  am  not  so  presuming  as  to  be  displeased  with  your  Majesty's  acts, 
and  if  you  have  obtained  an  honorable  peace,  I  wish  you  joy  of  it." 

Maria  Theresa  sighed  heavily.  "  I  perceive,"  said  she  disconsolately, 
"  that  you  are  resolved  not  to  let  me  see  into  your  heart." 

*'  Oh,  your  Majesty,"  cried  Joseph  with  a  bitter  smile,  "  1  have  no 
heart.     Where  my  heart  once  was,  there  stands  an  open  grave,  and  one^ 
by  one,  my  hopes  have  all  been  buried  there." 

"  I  think  it  strange  that  the' future  Emperor  of  Austria  should  speak 
of  buried  hopes."  • 

"  I  said  nothing  of  an  Emperor,  your  Majesty,  I  spoke  of  poor  Joseph- 
of  Hapsburg  and  of  his  personal  wishes.  As  regards  the  future  Empe- 
ror,'he  of  course  has  many  hopes  for  Austria.  Eirst  among  them  is  ther 
wish  that  the  epoch  of  his  reign  may  be  very  far  off!  Second,  is  his  de- 
sire to  serve  his  country.  As  we  are  now  to  enjoy,  the  blessings  of  . 
peace,  and  I  am  on  the  list  of  your  Mdjesty's  pensioned  officers,  I  should 
like,  if  it  do  not  conflict  with  your  views,  to  receive  an  appointment  as 
Minister  to  some  foreign  power." 

"  Oh,"  exclaimed  Maria  Theresa  sorrowfully,  "would  you  leave  me 
so  soon  asrain  1" 

"  Yes,  your  Majesty,  I  desire  a.  long  leave  of  absence." 

"Whither  would  you  journey,  my  dear  child?" 

"  I  desire  to  visit  the  Empress  Catherine." 

"The  Empress  Catharine  !"  echoed  Maria  Theresa,  starting  and  color- 
ing violently.     "You  would  visit  that  woman  ?" 

"  Yes,  your  Majesty.  I  would  visit  that  woman  asBaron  Thugut  did 
the  King  of  Prussia  ;  with  this  exception,  that  I  do  not  go  secretly — 1  first 
consult  your  Majesty." 

Maria  Theresa  would  not  notice  this  thrust  of  her  son.  She  contented 
herself  with  replying,  "  What  object  can  you  have  in  going  on  a  mission 
to  Russia?" 

"  I  propose  to  win  the  friendship  of  the  Empress." 

"  The  friendship  of  that  degraded  woman !     I  do  not  covet  it." 

"And  yet  your  Majesty  was  the  first  to  request  her  mediation  in  our 
affairs  \^jt:h  Germany.  As  you  have  raised  tiie  foul  fiend,  a'nd  he  has 
oome  at  your  call,  you  must  abide  the  consequences;  and  accept  him  as 


Elttl'KKUK  0)f  AIISTKIA.  I(j7 

a  friend.  Since  Russia  is  to  have  a  voice  iu  German  politics  it  -s  bel- 
ter that  she  speak  for  us,  than  be  allowed  to  sustain  our  enemy,  Prus- 
sia." 

"But  shft  has  long.be^  the  ally  of  Pnissia,"  objected  the  Empress. 

"So  much  theTQore  incumbent  is'it  ujiou  us  to  disturb  the  alliance. 
To  do  this,  is  the  purpose  of  my  journey  to  Russia.  I  repeat  my  re- 
quest for  your  Majesty's  consent."  . 

For  some  moments  Maria  Theresa  contemplated  her  son  with  inex- 
pressible tenderness.  At  length  she  said  with  a  sigh,  "You  really  de- 
sire then  to  go  to  Russia."  •  ^ 

"  Such  is  my  wish,  your  Majesty." 

"  Well,  my  child,  since  you  desire  it,  I  consent,  but  I  do  it  unwilling- 
ly. I  wish  to  prove  to  my  son  hov  gladly  I  gratify  him,  when  I  can  do 
so  without  conflicting  with  my  duties  as  a  sovereign.'*  ■  ^^v 

The  Emperor  bowed,  but  spoke  not  a  word.  Maria  Theresa  ij^bed 
again,  and  an  expression  of  deep  pain  crossed  her  face.  ^ 

"  When  do  you  expect  to  start  V  said  she,  sadly. 

"As  soon  as  possible ;  for  if  I  am  not  mistaken,  the  time  now  is  pro- 
pitious for  stepping  in  between  Prussia  and  her  beloved  ally." 

"Then  I  am  to  lose  my  dear  son  at  once?"  asked  the  mother  with 
tearful  eyes.  "I  fear  that  he  leaves  me  without  a  pang,  and  will  sel- 
dom bestow  a  thought  upon  the  mother  whose  anxious  heart  follows  his 
every  movement  with  love." 

"1  shall  bestow  my  thoughts  upon  ray  sovereign,  and  remember  that 
I  am  pledged  to  obtain  for  her  a  powerful  ally.  But  I  have  much  to  do 
before  I  start.  Above  all  things  I  mu^t  see  Prince  Kaunitz.  I  beg 
therefore  of  your  Majesty  the  permission  to  retire."  ' 

"  As  the  Emperor  pleases,"  said  Maria  Theresa  with  quivering  lip. 

Joseph  bowed,  and  without  a  word  or  look  at  his  mother's  sorrcAving 
countenance,  turned  towards  the  door.  Up  to  this  moment,  the  Em- 
press had  controlled  her  distress,  but  she  could  master  her  grief  no  lon- 
ger. She  looked  at  the  Emperor  with  dimmed  eyes  and  throbbing 
heart,  and  in  the  extremity  of  her  maternal  anguish,  she  cried  out, 

"  Oh,  my  son, my  precious  boy!" 

The  Emperor  who  was  opening  the  door,  turned  around.  He  saw  his 
mother,  her  tear-s  falling  like  rain,  standing  close  by  with  o\iistretched 
arms.  But  he  did  not  respond  to  the  appeal.  With  another  ceremo- 
nious bow,  he  said,  "I  take  leave  of  your  Majesty,"  and  closed  the  door 
behind  him. 

Maria  Theresa  uttered  a  loud  cry  and  sank  to  the  floor.  "  Oh,"  sob- 
bed she,  "  I  am  a  poor  desolate  mother.     My  child  loves  me  no  longer !" 


I  06  JUtSKI'H    THK   SKC()N1> 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

•  ■    .-*       . 

rKINCJK    POTEMKIX. 

Prince  PoTEMKix  was  just  out  of  bed.  In  front  of  him,  two  pftges, 
ri6hly  dressed,  bowed  down  to  the  floor  as  they  opened  the  door  for  lilni 
to  pass  into  his  cabinet.  Behind  him,  two  inore  pages  held  up  the  train 
of  his  ve.vet  dressing  gown  which  all  bedecked  with  jewels  came  trail- 
ing ^]i-|;hind  his  tull^  graceful  figure.  Behind  the  pages  were  four  valets 
with  ^jjreakfast  and  Turkish  pipes. 

Av,^  in  this  wise,  Prince  Potemkin  entered  his  cabinet.  He  threw 
himself  upon  an  ottomati  covered  with  India  cashmere  shawls,  and  re- 
ceived from  a  kneeling  page  a  cup  of  chocolaiie,  which  was  handed  to  his 
Highness  upon  a  gold  waiter  set  with  pearls.  Then,  as  if  the  cup  had 
been  too  troublesome  to  hold,  he  replaced  it  on  the  waiter  and  ordered 
the  page  to  pour  the  chocolate  down. 

The  page  apparently  was  accustomed  to  the  order,  for  he  rose  brjskly 
from  his  knees,  and  approaching  tho  cup  to  Potern kin's  lips,  allowed  the 
chocolate  to  trickle  slowly  down  his  princely  throat.  Meanwhile  the 
three  pages,  four  valets  and  six  officers,  v/ ho,  had  been  awaiting  him  iiv 
his  cabinet,  stood  around  in  stiff,  military  attitudes,  each  one  uncom-. 
ibrtably  conscious  that  he  was  raoraentariiy  exposed  to  the  possible  dis- 
pleasure of  the  mighty  favorite  of  the  mighty  Czarina. 

Potemkin,  meanwhile,  vouchsafed  not  a  look  at  any  one  of  them. 
After  he  had  sipped  his  chocolate,  and  the  page  had  dried  his  mouth 
with  an  embroidered  napkin,  he  opened  his  lips.  The  valeJ:  whose  duty 
it  was  to  present  it,  Stepped  forward  with  the  Turkish  pipe,  and  deposit-  ' 
ing  its  magnificent  golden  bowl  upon  the  Persian  carpet  by  the.  otto- 
man, placed  the  amber  mouth-piece  between  the  lips  of  his  master. 

Again,  a  dead  silence — and  again,  those  stiff  forms  stood  reverential- 
ly around,  while  Potemkin,  with  an  air  of  ennui  and  satiety,  watched 
the  blue  wreaths  that  rose  from  his  pipe  to  the  ceiling. 

"  What  o'clock  is  it  ?"  asked  he  inoodily.  ^ 

"  Mid-day,  your  Highness,"  was  the  prompt  reply. 

"  How  many  people  in  the  ante-room  V  . 

"A  multitude  of  nobles,  generals,  and  lesser  petitioners,  all  awaiting 
your  Highness's  uppearancef" 

"  How  long  have  they  been  there "?" 

"Three  hours,  your  Highness."  ' 

His  Highness  went  on  smoking,  impelled  probably  by  the  reflection 
l^at  three  hours  was  too  short  a  time  for  the  court  of  Russia  to  wait 
ior  th  /:^,.effable  blessing  of  his  presence. 


EiLPblKUH  OP  ALiyTKlA  1U9 

After  a  while  he  became  weary  of  the  pipe^  and  raised  his  head.  Three 
valets  rushed  forward,  each  with  an  embroidered  suit,  to  inquire  wheth- 
er his  Hifihness  would  wear  the  uniform  of  a  Field-marshal,  that  of  a 
Lord  Chamberlain,  or  the  magnificent  costume  of  a  Russian  Prince. 
Potenrivin  waved  them  off,  and  rose  frotn  the  ottoman.  Ilis  long  brown 
hair,  which  flowed  like  the  maqe  of  a  lion  around  his  handsome  face, 
bore  here  and  there  the  traces  of  the  down  pillow  upon  which  he  had 
skpfc  ;  his  open  dressing  gown  exposed  to  view  his  slovenly  under-gar-  _ 
luents ;  and  his  pearl-embroidered  slippers  were  worn  over  a  pair  of 
soiled  stockings  which  hanging  loosely  around  his  legs,  revealed  his 
powerful  and  well-shaped  calves. 

In  this  negUje,  Potemkiu  approached  i\\Q  door  of  his  ante-rqcm.  As 
soon  as  he  had  been  announced,  a  hundred  weary  fices  grew  bright  with 
expectation,  and  princes,  dukes,  and  nobles,  bowed  before  the  haughty 
man  who  was  even  mightier  than  the  Empress  ;  for  he  bent  before  bo 
mortal,  while  she  was  the  slave  of  one  will — of  Potcmkir's. 

Silent  and  disdainful,  Potemkin  walked  through  the  lines  of  obsequi- 
ous courtiers  that  fell  back  as  he  passed,  here  and  there  condescending 
to  greet  some  nobleman  of  wealth,  or  influence.  As  for  the  others  who 
raised  their  imploring  eyes  to  his,  he  afiected  not  to  know  of  th?^r  insig- 
nificant presence,  and  returned  to  his  cabinet  without  having  vouchsafed 
a  word  to  anybody. 

"Is  the  jeweller  there?"  asked  he,  of  the  officer  at  the  door,  and  as 
the  latter  bowed  his  head,  Potemkin  added,  ".Admit  him,  and  after 
him,  the  Minister  of  Police." 

With  these  words  he  passed-  into  his  cabinet,  and  his  valets  began  to 
dress  him.  While  his  long  mane  was  being  combed  into  order,  Potem- 
kin amused  himself  playing  like  a  juggler  with  three  little  golden  balls, 
while  the  pale  and  trembling  jeweller  stood  wondering  what  new  rob- 
bery awaited  him  now.  * 

*'  Ah,  Artankopf,  you  are  there  f  said  the  Prince,  when  his  toilet  had 
been  completed.     "  I  have  an  order  for  you." 

The  jeweller  made  a  salaam,  and  muttered  some  unintelligible  words 
of  which  Potemkin  took  no  notice. 

"I  saw  a  magnificent  service  of  gold  yesterday  in  your  show-case." 

"  It  is  an  order,  your  Highness,"  said  Artankopf,^quickly. 

"  Then,  I  cannot  buy  it  ?" 

"  Impossible,  your  Highness." 

"  Then,  I  order  one  exactly  like  it,  above  all,  in  weight.  The  statu? 
ettes  that  ornament  that  service,  are  exquisitely  moulded.  How  much 
gold  is  there  in  it  ?" 

"Sixty  thousand  rubles,  your  Highness," 

Potemkin's  eyes  sparkled.  "A  considerable  sum,"  said  he,  stroking 
his  mane.  *'  I  order  two  services  of  the  same  value.  Do  you  hear  ? 
They  must  be  ready  on  this  day  week." 

"  And  the  payment  1"  Artankopf  ventured  to  inquire. 


110  .lOSKPB  THE  SECOND. 

"  1  shall  pay  you  in  advance,"'  replied  Potemkiu,  with  a  laugh.  1  ap- 
point yna  first  court-jcwelier  to  the  Empress." 

The  jeweller  did  not  appear  to  appreciate  the  mode  of  paynoent;  he 
seemed  terrified. 

"  Uh,  your  Highness,"  said  he,  trembling,  "  I  implore  you  nottomkke 
such  fearful  jests  !  1  am  the  father  of  a  large  family,  and  if  you  exact 
of  rhe  to  furnish  you  a  service  worth  a  fortune,  the  outlay  for  the  gojd 
alone  will  ruin  me." 

"  You  will  be  irretrievably  ruined  if  you  do  iiot  furnish  it,"  laughed 
Potemkin,  while  he  went  on  throwing  his  balls  and  catching  them.  "  If 
those  two  services  are  not  here  on  the  day,  you  take  a  journey  to  Sibe- 
ria, friend  Artankopf." 

'•  I  will  be  punctual,  your  Highness,"  sighed  the  jeweller.  "But  the 
payment — I  must  buy  the  gold." 

"The  payment!  What,  the  devil — you  are  not  paid  by  the  appoint- 
ment I  give  you?  Go,  and  if  you  venture  to  murmur,  think  of  Siberia, 
and  that  V;ill  cure- your  grief" 

With  a  wave  of  his  hand,  Potemkin  dismissed  the  unhappy  jeweller, 
who  left  that  princely  den  of  extortion  a  broken-hearted,  ruined  man. 

The  'i'obber,  meanwhile,  was  counting  his  gains  and  donning  his  field- 
marshal's  uniform.  "  One  hundred  and  twenty-thousand  rubles  worth  of 
gold,"  said  he  to  himself  "  I'll  have  the  things  melted  into  coin — it  is 
more  portable  than  plate." 

The  door  opened  and  Narischkin,  the  Minister  of  Police,  entered. 

*'  Out ! — the  whole  gang  of  you !"  cried  Potemkin ;  and  there  was  a 
simultaneous  exodus  of  officers,  pages  and  valets.  When  the  heavy, 
gold-bordered  silken  joor^iere  h'ad  fallen,  the  tyrant  spoke. 

"  Now  let  us  hear  your  report,"  said  he,  seating  himself  before  his 
toilet-mirror,  where  first  he  cleaned  his  dazzling  white  teeth,  and  then 
pared  his  nails.  ■*  » 

Th^Minister  of  Police,  in  an  attitude  of  profound  respect,  began  to 
go  over  the  occurrences  of  the  past  two  days  in  St.  Petersburg. 

Potemkin  listened  with  an  occasional  yawn,  and  finall;^  interrupted 
him.  "You  are  an  old  fool.  What  do  I  care  for  your  burglars  and 
bankrupts'? — you  have  not  so  much  as  a  murder  to  relate  to  me.  Can 
you  not  guess  that  there  are  other  things  of  which  I  wish  to  hear." 

"  Doubtless,  your  Highness  wishes  me  to  report  the  doings  of  the  Em- 
peror of  Austria." 

"You  are  not  quite  such  a  dunce  then  as  you  seem  to  be.  Well — 
what  hai^  the  Emperor  been  about  these  two  days  past  ?" 

"  He  leads  the  same  life  as  he  did  in  Moscow,"  said  Narischkin.  "He 
goes  about  as  Count  Falkenstein."  • 

"He  comes  as  his  own  ambassador,"  cried  Potemkin,  laughing,  "and 
he  could  not  have  chosen  a  worse  one  than  Count  Falkenstein.*  What 
a  wretched  country  Austria  must  be  when  its  Emperor  travels  about 
like  an  ordinary  Russian  gentleman!" 

♦  rotemkin'e  own  words. 


EM?EROR,OF  AUSTIUA  1 1  I 

"  He  arrived  in  St.  Petersburg  •with  one  servant  carrying  his  port- 
manteau, and  engaged  two  rooms  at  a  hotel." 

"  Oh,_ves,  I  have,  heard  of  his  passion  for  livico-  at  hotels.  It  all  pro- 
rceds  from  avarice.  Were. he  the  guest  of  the  JL^n»pres^  he  would  be 
obliged  to  make  some  imperial  presents  here  and  there.  When  our 
great  Czarina  invited  him  to  Surskoe-Selo,  he  accepted,  on  condition  that 
lie  clunild  be  allowed  to  lodge  at  an  inn.  Now  there  happens  to  be  no 
inn  at  Sarskoe-Selo,  so  the  imperial  gardener  has  hung  out  a  sign  and 
the  little  Count  of  Falkcnstein  is  to  take  up  his  lodging  with  him.  He 
will  be  never  the  wiser,  and  will  fancy  himself  at  an  inn.  So  that  in 
trifles,  as  in  matters  of  state,  the  Czarina  s^hall  befool  Austria,  and  lead 
him  by  the  nose.  Tell  me  something  more  of  his  eccentricities.  Xlave 
you  dazzled  him  with  a  sight  of  our  wealth?" 

"lie  is  not  to  be  dazzled,  your  Highness.  Even  the  homage  he  has 
received,  seems  to  give  him  no  pleasure." 

"Ah  !     Has  he  then  been  the  object  of  so  much  considei"ation1" 

'*  Her  Majesty  ordered  it,  and  she  has  even  devised  some  delicate 
compliments  wherewith  to  surprise  him." 

'•Ah  ! — Slie  seems  to  be  inclined  towards  this  little  Emperor,"  mut- 
tered PotemWn.     "She  indult^es  in  fanciful  projects  of  aggrandisement 

v.'ith  him,  and  forgets ,     Well — what  were  the  surprise  which  the 

Czarina  prepared  tor  his  Countship?" 

"  Day  before  yesterday,  he  visited  the  Academy  of  Sciences.  An  at- 
las was  presented  to  him,  and  when  he  opened  it,  he  found  a  map  of  his* 
own  journey  from  Vienna  to  St.  Petersburg,  with  engravings  illustrating 
the  various  details  of  the  journey."'* 

"  Pretty  good,"  sneered  Potemkin,  "  but  unfortunately  not  original, 
for  the  little  Count  received  a  similar  compliment  in  Paris.     Go  on." 

"Then  the  Emperor  visited  the  Academy  of  Arts,  and  there  he  found 
a  portfolio  of  engravings,  among  which  was  an  excellent  portrait  of  him- 
self with  this  inscription  :  "  MuUorum  j^rovidus  urbes  et  mores  hominum 
insjiexii. 

"  Who  wrote  the  inscription  ?"  asked  Potemkin,  hastily. 

"  Her  Majesty's  self."  replied  Narischkin,  with  a  deep  inclination  at 
the  name.  "  But  the  Emperor  greets  everything  with  a  quiet  smile. 
When  he  visited  the  Mint  and  saw  the  enormous  piles  of  bullion  there, 
h^  merely  said  :  "  Have  you  always  as  muoh  silver  in  the  Mint  as  there 
is  to-day  V  " 

Potemkin  laughed  aloud.  "  That  was  a  sly  question,  and  shows  that 
little  Ealkenstein  has  been  peeping  behind  the  scenes  and  has  discovered 
that  we  were  prepared  for  his  coming." 

"Yes,  your  Highness.  It  would  appear  that  Count  Ealkenstcin  does 
not  quite  believe  in  our  enormous  wealth,  for  after  seeing  ihe  Miut,  he 
put  on  that  mocking  smile  of  his  and  asked  whether  the  Imperial  Bank 
was  in  a  condition  to  redeem  its  issue."        '  .     • 

"What  was  tlio^answer?" 

♦Theodore  Mun(Jt.     Conflicts  for  tho  Black  Sea,    P.  141, 


1(2        ■  JOSEPH  THE  SECOND. 

"Yes,  of  course,  your  Highness." 

*'  It  was  a  Tuasterpiece  of  effrontery  then,  and  I  shall  take  the  oppor- 
tunity of  testing  its  truth.  Go  to  the  bank,  Narischkin,  and  say  that  I 
need  one  hundred  thousand  rubles  for  an  entertainment  I  propose  to  give 
to  the  Czarina.     I  must  have  it  in  coin.     Quick — begone." 

"  I  fly,  your  Highness,  but  first  be  so  kind  as  to  give  me  the  imperial 
order.  You  well  know  that  no  coin  can  leave  the  Bank  without  the  sig- 
nature of  the  Empress." 

"  I  should  like  to  see  whether  they  will  dare  to  return  my  signature," 
cried  Pofcemkin  fiercely. 

He  wrote  the  order,  and  handing  it  to  Narischkin,  said  :  "  Take  this 
to  the  Bank  directors,  and  if  they  ask  for  the  signature  of  the  Empress, 
toll  them  she  will  send  it  to-morrow,  but  I  must  have  the  money  to-day." 

Narischkin  bowed  lower  than  he  had  ever  been  seen  to  do  towards 
the  son  of  the  Empress  himself,  and  left  the  room  on  reverential  tiptoes. 


CHAPTER  XXVJII. 

TilE   PRUSSIAN   AMBASSADOR. 

When  Potemkin  felt  himself  quite  alone,  he  leaned  back  in  his  arm- 
chair with  an  ugly  frown.  - 

"  Something  is  going  on  to  my  disadvantage  here,"  muttered  he.  "  I 
saw  it  yesterday  irl  Panin's  exulting  countenance.  How  I  hate  that 
man !  Almost  ^s  much  as  I  do  OrlofF!  It  is  a  blessing  for  me  that  both 
are  not  here  to  plot  together.     Singly,  I  do  not  fear  them,  but  together 

Orloff'is  the  loaded  cannon,-  and  Panin,  the  lighted  match,  and  if  I 

am  not  wary " 

Here,  as  though  he  had  felt  the  shock  of  the  ball,  Potemkin  sprang 
from  his  seat,  and  swung  his  hands  above  his  head.  But  presently  he 
sank  back  into  the  chair,  and  continued  his  meditations.  "  I  must  spike 
OrloflT  before  he  destroys  me.  But  to  spike  a  cannon,  one  must  be  able 
to  reach  it,  and  Orloff  is  far  away  on  his  estates,  like  a  spider  in  her 
wicked  web.  Oh,  if  I  could  but  reach  it,  I  would  soon  tear  it  to  pieces. 
But  where  are  its  threads'?  How  shall  I  find  them? — Panin,  too,  is 
getting  intimate  with  the  Grand  Duke,  and  so,  i«  currying  favor  with  the 
Empress.  Yesterday  when  I  entered  the  parlor  without  saluting  him, 
Paul  called  after  me  with  an  oath,  and  turned  to  his  mother  with  a  com- 
plaint of  my  insolence.  And  the  Empress  did  not  utter  one  word  of 
reproof,  although  she  saw  me  near  enough  to  hear.  That  is  significant 
— it  means  that  Gatharine  fears  me  no  longer.     But,  by  the  eternal 


KM l-fc:KU»  <>/  AUSTRIA.  J  13 

God  !  she  shall  learn  that  she  has  a  inartcr,  and  that  her  master  is.  Po- 
temkin!"  • 

"  How  dare  she  take  Pania  into  her  cnnfiderice  ?  He  it  is,  who  in- 
clines her  to  the  Kiug  of  Prussia.  This  lancy  for  'Prussia,  is  the  only 
thing  she  has  in  common  with  the  Grand  Duke.  Love  of  Frederic,  is 
the  bridge  which  Panin  has  built  to  unite  thoni.  I  must  try  to  lead  her 
into  another  road  of  policy,  and  so  remove  OrlotV  and  Panin.     OrlolV 

hates  Austria,  and  if Pshaw  !     Why  is  that  Joseph  so  niggardly 

that  one  cannot  feel  the  slightest  interest  in  him?     If  after  refusing  all 

other  invitations,  he  had  paid  me  the  compliment  of  accepting  mine 

But,  no  ! — This. haughty   Austrian  treats  me  with  as  little  consideration' 
as  he  does  the  rest  of  the  world,  and  forces  me,  iu  spite  of  myself,  to  the 
side  of  Frederic.     But  there  I  fiud  Orloff  and  Panin,  and  we  cannot  work 
together.     They  must  be  disgraced,  and  Catharine  made  to  follow  me 
"How  shall  I  comniehce?     What  shall  1  do?" 

A  knock  at  the  door  put  an  end  to  his  communings. 

"  His  Excellency,  the  Count  Von  Gurtz,  Ambassador  of  his  Lfajesty, 
'the  King  of  Prussia,"  said  the  officer,  who  announced  the  visitors  of 
Potemkin. 

"  fehow  his  Excellency  i«to  the  little  parlor,"'  said  the  latter  careless- 
ly, "  and  tell  him  that  I  will  receive  him  there." 

"Ah! — Count  Von  Gortz,"  thought  Potemkiiv  "That  signifies  that 
my  enemies  have  not  .yet  triumphed,  and  that  the  King  of  Prussia 
thinks  me  powerful  enough  to  conciliate.  '•  Well — I  must  have  ttoie 
tor  reflection." 

And  without  the  slightest  regard  to  the  station  of  his  visitor,  Potem- 
kin sat  for  half  an  hour,  revolving  in  his  mind  what  sort  of  reception 
he  should  give  to  Frederic's  overtures.  In  spite  of  the  slight,  Count 
Von  Gurtz  came  forward  with  a  gracious  smile,  as  Potemkin,  slightly 
nodding,  passed  on  to  a  seat,  and  waved  his  hand  for  the  Count  to  take 
another. 

"I  am  commissioned  by  ray  Sovereign,  the  King  of  Prussia,  to  re- 
quest an  interview  of  your  Highness,"  began  Von  Gortz. 

Potemkin  nodded,  but  said  nothing. 

"  His  Majesty  has  entrusted  me  with  a  most  flattering  commission  '* 
continued  the  Ambassador. 

"Let  us  hear  it,"  replied  Potemkin,  with  indifference.        * 

Count  Von  Gurtz  bowed,  rose^  and  drew  from  his  bosom  a  rich  vel- 
vet Hni  which  he  handed  to  the  Prince. 

*'  His  Majesty,  my  august  Sovereign,  iu  acknowledgement  of  your 
Highness's  great  and  glorious  deeds,  wishes  to  convey  to  you  a  token  of 
his  admiration  and  friendship,"  said  Count  Von  Gortz,  solemnly.  "  He 
has  bestowed  upon  your  Hjghness  the  order  of  the  Black  Eagle,  and  I 
have  the  honor  to  present  you  with  the  insignia." 

Potemkin  took  the  etui  and  without  opening  it  laid  it  on  the  table 
beside  him.  "  Ah,"  said  he,  with  ashrug,  "  his  Majesty  sends  me  the 
Black  Eagle.     I  am  much  obliged  to  him,  but  really  1  have  so  marly 


j[4  JUSEI'H    rilEj^IiOONl)       » 

orders  tbat  I' scarcely  know  whr-.re  to  wear  (hem,  and  how  to  dispose  cf 
this  new  one,  I  scarcely  knaw  :  See  for  yourself,"  continued  he  snniling, 
and  pointing  to  his  breast,  which  indeed  was  covered  with  cros?es,  "  do 
1  not  look, like  a  vender  of  orders,  carrying  about  his  samples'?"'^' 

"  If  I  nmy  be  allowed  to   use  your  Excellency's  words,  you  carry 
'about  samples,  not  only  of  your  treasures,  but  of  your  heroism  and 
statesmanship.     It  would  bo  a  pity  if  among  them,  you  should  not  wear 
a  decoration  of  my  august  Sovereign.'^^ 

"  Very  well,  then,  to  oblige  ^he  King  of  Prussia,  I  shall  wear  the 
cross  and  I  beg  you  to  return  him  my  thanks.  Have  you  any  thing 
'more  to  say,  Count  r' 

Count  Yon  Gortz  cast  a  searching  glance  around  the  apartment,  es- 
pecially upon  the  heavy  velvet  window-curtains.  -i 

"  Get  up  and  look  ibr  yourself,  if  you  suspect  the  presence  of  any- 
body," said  the  Prince. 

Your  Highness's  word  is  sufficient.  Allow  me  then  to  speak  openly 
and  confidentially. 

"In  the  name  of  your  Sovereign?"    ■ 

"  Yes  your  Highness.  Y"ou  know  that  the  treaty,  which  for  eight 
years  has  "allied  Kussia  to  Prussia,  is  about  to  expire." 

"  Is  it?"  said  Potemkin  carelessly.  "  I  was  not  aware  of  it,  for  I  take 
no  interest  in  minor  politics."  .  '        ' 

"  Your ,  Highness  has  in  view  the  great  wlwlp  only,  of  the  field  of  di- 
plomacy "  replied  the  complaisant  minister.  "But  for  Prussia  this  al- 
liance is  a  most  important  one,  and  my  sovereign  has  nothing  more  at 
heart  than  the  renewal  of  his  alliance  with  Russia.  Pie  knows  how 
much  his  interests  here  are  threatened  by  the  visit  of  the  Emperor  Jo- 
seph and  he  desired  me  to  ask  of  your  .Highness  whether  it  would  be 
advisable  for  him  to  send  Prince  Henry  to  counteract  it." 

Potemkin  replied  to  this  question  by  a  loud  laugh,  "  What  a  set  of 
timid  people  you  are!"  said. he.  "What  formalities  about  nothing! 
When  the  Emperor  was  about  to  visit  us,  the  Czarina  must  know  whe-' 
ther  it  was  agreeable  to  the  King  of  Prussia;*  now  the  King  wishes  to 
know  from  me  whether  the  visit  of  Prince  Henry  is  expedient." 

"  Y^es.  His  Majesty  wishes  advice-  from  your  Highness  alone,  al- 
though there  are  others  who  would  gladly  be  consulted  by  him." 

"  Others  ?  you  mean  Panin — have  you  theri  asked  counsel  of  no  one, 

Count?" 

"  Of  no  one.     My  sovereign  wishes  to  consult  with  no  one  excepting 

ypur  Highness."  v 

For  the  first  time  Potemkin  betrayed  his  satisfaction  by  a  triumphant 
smile.  "  If  your  King  comes  to  me  exclusively, — mark  me  well,  exclu- 
sively,— for  advice,  I  am  willing  to  serve  him." 

"Your  Highness  may  see  that  my  sovereign  addresses  himself  to  you 
alone  "  replied  the  Minister,  handing  him  a  letter  in  Frederic's  own 
handwriting^  . .  ; ' __^ " 

•  AU  Potonikin's  own  words.    Dnbm's  Memoirs,    Vol,  1,  P.  413. 


E.VM'EKi.m  dyP  AU81KIA  1].") 

Potemkin,  ■without  any  appearance  of  surprise,  took  it  and  broke  tl>v. 
sea).  The  King  bc^an  bv  sayinjr  tha&  he  had  every  reason  to  beiiew. 
that  the  object  of  Joseph^s  visit  to  lliissia  was  to  alienate  lius?ia  irom 
her  old  ally.  Then  he  went  into  ecstasies  over  the  f»enius  and  states- 
manship of  Potemkin,  and  besought  him  to  uphold  the  interests,  of  Prus- 
sia. Furthermore  he  promised  his  interest  and  influence  to  the  Prince, 
not  only  for  the  presept,  bur,  for  the  future,  when  it  was  probable  that 
he  (Frederic)  could  serve  Potemkin  substantially/'- 

A  long  pause  ensued  after  the  reading  of  this  letter.  Potemkin  threw 
himself  back,  and  in  an  attitude  of  thonghtfulness  raised"  his  eyes  to  the 
rich,  pictured  ceiling  above  him. 

"I  do  not  entirely  understand  the  King,'*  said  he,  after  some  time  of 
reflection.  "  Whr.t  does  he  mean  by  saying  that  he. will  try  to  make 
that  possible  which  seems  impossible"?" 

'■  llis  Majesty  has  learned  that  your  Highness  is  desirous  of  being 
created  Duko  of  Courland.  He  will  use  all  his  interest  with  Stanislaus 
to  this  effect,  and  indemnify  the  Duke  de  Biron,  who  would  lose  Cour- 
land, by  augmenting  his  possessions  in  Silesia.  The  Ring  also  means 
that  he  is  ready  to  find  a  bride  for  the  future  Duke  of  Courland  among 
the  ^Princesses  of  Germany." 

"Really,"  said  Potemkin,  laughing,  "the  mysterious  phrase  is  signifi- 
cant. But  the  King  lays  too  much  stress  upon  that  little  Duchy  of 
Courland;  if  I  wanted  it,  I  could  make  it  mine  without  troubling  his 
Majesty  in  the  least.  As  to  the  bride,  I  doubt  whether  it  would  be 
'agreeable  to  the  Qzarina  for  me  to  marry,  and  this  matter  I  leave  to  her- 
self.   What  does  the  King  mean  by  a  profier  of  friendship  for  the  future  ?" 

Count  Gortz  leaned  forward  and  spoke  scarcely  above  his  breath. 
"His  Majesty  means  to  promise  his  influence  with  the  Grand  Duke,  so 
that  in  the  event  of  his  mother's  death,  your  Highness  would  be  secure 
of  your  person  and  property."! 

This  time  the  Prince  was  unable  to  suppress  his  real  feelings;  he 
started,  and  a  deep  flush  overspread  his  face. 

"Howl"  sa"id  he,  in  a  whisper,  "kis  the  King  the  power  to  read  my 
thoughts " 

He  did  not  conclude  his  sentence,  biit  sprang  from  his  seat  and  paced 
the  room  in  hurried  excitement.  Count  Von  Gortz  also  had  risen  and 
contemplated  him  in  anxious  silence. 

"  Did  the  courier  from  Berlin  bring  any  letters  to  the  Czarina  1"  asked 
Potemkin,  as  he  ceased  walking  and  stood  before  Von  Gortz. 

"Yes,  your  Highness,  and  1  shall  deliver  them,  as  soon  as  1  receive 
the  assurance  of  your  influence  with  the  Empress." 

"  Very  well,  yon  have  it.  I  will  go  at  once  to  her.  Meanwhile  go  to 
Count  Panin,  to  whose  department  this  affair  belongs,  and  induce  him  to 
lay  before  the  Czarina  a  proposition  for  the  renewal  of  the  Prussian  al- 
liance.    Tben  ask  an  audience  of  the  Empress,  and  present  yourcredcn- 

•Thi"  letter  is  hlstoricp),  and  is  to  be  fnnnd  in  Dohm'a  Memoirs.    Vol.  1,  p.  412. 
*  Bnnmer's  '^OBfribntionfi.  &o.    Vol.  5,  p.  <8.V 


J  1(1  JOSEPH  TUB  SECOND. 

tials.  You  see  that  I  am  in  earnest,  for  I  work  in  conjunction  with  my 
enemy  •  but  before  1  make  one  step,  you  must  write  out  the  King's  last 
promise  to  me,  addinj^  that  you  are  empowered  to  do  so,  by  his  Majes- 
ty of  Prussia,  and  having  signed  the  r-romise,  you  must  deliver  me  the 
paper." 

"  May  I  inquire  the  object  of  tiiese  papers  V 

Poterakin  approached  the  Count,  and  whispci^d  in  his  ear.  '•  It  is  a 
matter  of  life  and  death.  It'  the  Grand  Dnke  should  come  to  the  throne, 
from  the  unbounded  regard  which  he  has  for  the  King  of  Prussia,  1  know 
that  this  paper  will  protect  me  from  his  vengeance." 

"  Your- Highness  shall  have  it."  4 

"At  once "?  For  you  understand  that  I  must  have  some  guarantee 
before  I  act.  .  Your  King's  words  urn  not  explicit." 

"I  shall  draw  up  the  paper,  and.  b-eud  it  to  your  Highness  before  I 
ask  an  audience  of  the  Czarina." 

"Then  the  King  of  Prussia  may  reckon  upon  me,  and  I  fihall  serve' 
him  to-day,  as  I  hope  that  in  future  he  will  serve  me.  Go  now  and  re- 
turn with  the  paper  as  soon  as  it  is  ready." 

"  I  believe  that  Prussia  m^ans  fairly,"  said  Potemkin,  when  he  found 
himself  once  more  alone.  "  But  that  only  means  that  Prussia  needs-  me, 
and  that,"  cried  he  exultingly,  "  means  that  I  am  mightier  than  Panin, 

mightier  than  the  Grand  JJuke But  am  T  mightier  than  Orloif  ? — Oh, 

this  Orlolf  is  the  spectre  that  forever  threatens  my  repose !  He,  or  1, 
must  fall,  for  Russia  is  too  small  to  hold  us  both.     But  which  one  ? 

Not  I- By  the  Eternal— not  I !" 

Just  thpn  there  was  a  knock  at  the  door,  and  Potemkin,  who  was 
standing  with  his  fist  clenched,  and  his  teeth  set,  fell  back  into  his  seat. 

"  How  dare  you  disturb  me  *?"  cried  he  savagely. 

"  Pardon  me,  your  Highness,  but  this  is  your  day  for  I'eceiving  the 
foreign  Ambassadors,  Siud  his  Excellency  of  Austria  craves  an  audience." 

"Cobenzl?     Is  he  alone'?" 

'•  Yes,  your  flighness." 

■•  In  ten  minutcp.  admit  hli^i  h^^v.' 


CUAPTEli  XXLX. 

ruii   AUSTRIAN   AMBASSADOK. 


Ten  minutes  later  the  door  was  opened,  and  Count  Cobeozl,  on  the 
point  of  his  toes,  tipped  into  the  room.  Potemkin,  on  the  sofa,  was 
looking  the  picture  of  indifference ;  bis  eyea  half-shut,  and  his  tall  form 


slreU'lu'd  out  :it.  lull  Icuglli,  he  socniod  just,  to  hitveawuKoiieJ  lif.m  sleep. 
But  during  those  ten  minuies  he  had  been  doing  anything  but  .sleepingl 
lie  had. been  docorating  himself  T\iLh  the  cross  of  the  Hlack  ]iagle,  and 
liad  allowed  the  broad  riband  to  which  it  was  attached  Lo  trail  upon  the 
carpet. 

'■  It  is  well,  Count  Cobcnzl,"  said  i'otcuiUin,  greeting  ihe  Li.inister, 
"•(hafc  you  did  not  come  live  minutes  later,  for  you  would  not  have  met 
me  at  all." 

'•  Pardon  me,  I  should  then  have  had  but  five  minutes  to  wait  in  your 
•ante-room,  replied  Cobenzl.  "J  detest  ante-rooms,  and  wish  that.l  had 
come  ton  minutes  later,  that  1  might  have  been  introduced  to  your  pre- 
sence at  once." 

"  You  would  not  have  seen  me  at  all,  I  tell,  you  ;  for  I  am  about  to 
have  an  audience  of  the  Empress."  , 

'•  Ah,  iiKleed  !"  cried  Cobenzl.  "  That  accounts  for  all  these  brilliant 
decorations  then." 

'•You  certainly  did  not  suppose  that  I  was  wearing  theniiii  honor  of 
yo7«?- visit,  did  you  ?■'  asked  Poternkin,  with  quiet  iasolence. 

"Oh,  no,  1  thought  it  a  mere  mise  en  schte.'^ 
,    ''•Ah,  Count  Cobeuzl,  is  still  mad  on  the  fjubject  of  the  dranin,"  re- 
pli-ed  Potemkin,  laughing.     *' What  new  comedy  are  you  about  to  get; 
lip  at  liM.  Austrian  Embassy,  heh  ?' 
i      "A  very  pretty  thing  just  from  Paris,  your  Highness.     It  is  called, 
\  '•  The  disgraced  Favorite,  or  the  Whims  of  Fortune.' "' 

Potemkin's  eyes  fla.slied  fire,  but  he  controlled  himself  and  said, 
'•  Where  is  tke  scene  of  the  drama  laid  ?" 

"  1  do  not  precisely  remember.     In  Tartary,  or  Mon2olia,  or- — — " 

"Or  in  the  moon,"  interrupted^  ]fjM;emkin,  Jaugljing.  "  I>ut  come— 
be  sealed  and  let  us  be  serious." -''Jiso  saying,  Potemkin  threw  himself 
back  again  upon  the  divan,  ai^d  pointed  to  an  arm-chair  which  Cobenzl 
quietly  accepted.  The  chair  happened  to  be  close  to  the  spot  where  the 
riband  of  the  Black  Eagle  was  lying.  Cobenzl  seeing  that  it  was  under 
his  feet,  picked  it  up  and  presented  it  to  the  Prince. 

"  You  know  not  what  you  do,  Count.     You  raise  your  enemy  when 
you  raise  that  riband.     It  has  just  been  sent  to  mc  by  the  Kiiig  of  Prus- 
sia.    1  am  quite  in  despair  at  being  obliged  to  wear  it,  lor  it  ty,k<»s  up  so 
'  much  room.     The  star  of  the  Black  Eagle  is  vcrv  large.    Do  vou  not 
think  so?" 

"  "ies,  your  Highness,  and  I  congratulate  you  «pon  its  possession,  for 
the  close  King  of  Prussia  does  not  often  give  away  his  diauionds." 

"lb  would  appear  that  dianionds  do  not  abound  in  Prussia,"  leplied 
Potemkin,  with  a  gesture  of  slight  towards  the  cross  on  his  breast. 
*' These  brilliants  are  rather  yellow." 

"  Dp  you  prefer  Austrian  diamonds?"  asked  Cobenzl  significantly. 

"  I  have  never  seen  any,"  answered.  Potemkin  with  a  yawn. 

"Then  1  am  happy  to  be  the  first  to  introduce  them  to  your  notice," 
said  Cobeuzl  rising  and  taking  from  his  pocket  a  Turkey-morocco  case. 


/'  My  august  Emperov  has  cooimfssioned  me  to  present  youthis  little 
caskos."  .  . 

"Another  order!"  cried  Polerakin  witii  aiiccted  horror. 

'' No,  your  Highness.  Orders  are  toys  lor  grown-up  children.  But 
you  are  a  greut  inau,  and  ti  Ley  for  you  must  have  Kome  scientific  siyni- 
licance.  My  Emperor  has  heard  that  your  Higliness  has  a  costly  collec- 
tion of  minerals  and  precious  stones.  His  Majesty  has  therefore  with 
'his  own  hand  selected  the  specimens  which  I  have  the  honor  to  present 
in  his  name."  •        ' 

Potemlvin,  whose  indifference  had  all  vanished  as  he  listened,  opened' 
the  casket  with  sorne  -engerness,  and  an  exclamation  of  rapture  fell  from 
hid  iips,  as  he  surveyed  its  costly  contents.  There  were  Indian  dia- 
monds of  unusual  size  and  brilliancy  ;  Turkish  Rubies  of  fiery  crimson; 
inagnificent  sapphires,  tui'quoises  of  purest  tint;  large  specimens  of  lap- 
es-laznli  all  veined  with  gold,  and  translucent  chrysoprase  of  bright  me- 
tallic green. 

"This  is  indeed  a  princely  gift,"  cried  the  covetous  Potemkin,  per- 
fectly daz^iied  by  the  magnificence,  and  intoxicated  by  the  possession  of 
all  these  riches.  "  Never  have  Iseen  such  jewels.  They  blaze  like'  the 
stars  of  heaven  !" 

Cobenzl  bowed.  "  And  this  sapphire  !"  continued  the  Prince,  "the 
Empress  herself  has  nothing  to  compare  to  it !" 

"The  Czarina  looks  upon  your  Highness  as  the  brightest  jewel  in  her 
crown— us  her  incomparable  sapphire. — But  observe  this  turquoise — it  ' 
13  one  of  that  greenish  hue  so  prized  byconnaisseurs,  aijid  its  like  is  not 
to  be  purchased  with  money- "    ' 

Suddenly  Pote^nkin,  ashamed  of  his  raptures,  closed  the  casket  with 
a  click  and  pushed  it  aside. 

"\ou  cantell  your  EmperOr,"  said  he,  "  that  you.  were  an  eye-wit- 
ness of  the  gratification  I  have  received  from  this  superb  addition  to  my 
scientific  collections.-  And  now,  Count,  without  circumlocution,  how  caa 
i  serve  you,  and  what  does  the  Emperor  desire  of  me?  Such  gifts  as 
these  indicate  a  request." 

"  Frankly,  then,  the  Emperor  seeks  your  Highness's  friendship  and 
wishes  you  to  further  his  Majesty's  plans." 

"  What  are  these  plans  ?"  ' 

"  Oh,  your  Highness  is  too  shrewd  .a  statesman  not  to  have  guessed 
them,  and  not  to  understand  that  we  merely  shift  the  scene  of  'the  war. 
We  "pitch  our  tents  at  St.  Petersburg  with  the  object  of  winning  Rus- 
sia to  our  side." 

.  "  But  here  Prussia  holds  the  battle-field ;  you  will  have  to  fight  against 
superior  numbers." 

"  Not  if  Prince  Potemkin  be  our  ally,"  replied  Cobenzl  courteously. 
"  True,  Prussia  has  Orloff,  Panin,  and  the  Grand  Duke " 

"  And  who  tells  you  that  Prussia  has  not  Potemkin  also  ?"  cried  the 
Prince  laughing.     "  Do  you  not  sec  that  1  wear  the  Black  Eagle  ?" 

»  Yes — bnt  your  Highness  is  too  wise  to  be  the  ally  of  Pruissia.    You 


are  too  great  a  statesman  to  comuilt  such  a  bcvue.     C>rkll"  who  has  uev 
er  forgiven  you  for  succeeding  him  JQ  Catharine's  fevor^/Orloff  asks  no 
r;refiter  triumph  than  that. of  harnessing  your  Highness  to  the  car  6i  his 
political  procUvili<!S." 
'    ''  flo  shall  never  enjoy  that  triumph,"  riiuttered  Potemkin. 

'•  ?fot  if  the  Kmperor  can  prevent  it,  and  therefore  his  Majesty  hopes 
that  your -Highness  will. sustain  Austria.'' 

"  But  what  are  Austria's  plans  ?' 

"  Austria  wishes  to  occupy  the  place' which  Prussia  now  enjoys  as  the 
ally  of  liussia.  Prussian,  while  wooing  the  Czarina,  ogles  the  Grand 
Diike,  and  it  is  her  interest  to  bring  them  together.  1  know  that  the 
matter  was  thoroughly  discussed  yesterday  between  Count  Panin  and 
the  Prussian  Ambassador." 

*'  The  Prussian  Ambassador  was  yesterday  in  conference  with  Panin !" 

"  Not  only  yesterday  but  to-day,  I  met  tiim  coming  from  Panin's  with 
his  order  of  the  Black  Eagle, '^and  a  letter  for  your  Highness  from  the 
King." 

"Truly  your  spies  are  great  detectives,"  cried  Potemkin.    . 
"  '.'They  are  well  paid,"  was  the  significant  reply. 

"And  what,  for  example,  were  the  proposals. of  Von  Gortz?"' 

"Von  Gortz  stated  that  as  Panin,  the  GraJid  Duke  and  himself  were 
not  a  n'.atch. for  thv?  Emperor  and  your  Highness,  you  were  to  be  won 
over  by  flattery,  orders  and  promises." 

"True!"  cried  Potemkin.     "Your  spies  are  right.     What  else?"' 

"Another  powerful  friend  of  Prussia  has  been  recalled  from  his  estates 
and  suiBcimoned  to  Petersburg." 

Px>temkin  sprang  from  the  ."Jofa  with  a  howl  of  rage. 

"Wh:t.t!     Orloti' summoned  by  Von  Gortz;  he  who— — " 

"  Who  was  enticing  your  Highness  with  vain  promises,  had  suggested 
to  the  Czarina  the  imperative  necessity  of  recalling  OrlofTvvith  the  ex- 
press isitention  of  holding  you  in  check." 

"  What  an  infernal  plot !  But  it  bears  the  stamp  of  Panin's  treachery 
upon  its  face,"  muttered  Potemkin,  while  with  hasty  strides. he  walked 
up  and  down  the  room. 

Cobenzl  watched  him. with  a  half  smile,  and  taking  up  the  riband  of 
the  Blaclc  Eagle,  he  passed  it  through  his  hands  by  -way  of  pastime. 

After  much  going  to  and  fio,  Potemkin  stopped,  and  his  countenance 
was  expressive  of  courage  and  resolve. 

"  Count  Cobenzl,  I  know  what  are  the  plans  of  Abstria,  and  they  shall 
be  sustained.  Your  interests  are  mine,  for  it  is  no  longer  a  question  of 
Austria  or  Prussia,  but'of  Potemkin  or  OrlofT!  You  see,  therefore,  that 
I  am  sincere;  but  Austria  must  sustain  me,  and  we  must  tread  our  po- 
litical path  together." 

"Austria  will  go  hand  and  heart  with  your  Highness." 

'Austria  must  sustain  me,  I  say,  and  our  password  shall  bev.''THE 
CoKQUEST  OF 'Turkey."  That  is  the  spell  by  which  I  rule  the  Czarina. 
My  enemies  often  fill  her  mind  with  distrust  of  me  ;  but  that  great  pro. 


jfjct  shielJs  me  liom  tiicir  weapons.  Still  I  am  in  danger;  for  here  in 
Kussia,  we  look  neither  to  the  payt  nor  to  the  future ;  the  excitement  of 
the  hoar  reigns  absolute.  A  good  subject  never  knows  how  to  regulate 
his  conduct.  If  I  were  sure  of  blame  for  doing  evil,  or  of  approbation 
for  doing  good,  I  might  know  what  to  expectVrom  the  Czarina.  But 
when  a  Sovereign  is  the  slave  of  her  passions,  all  ordinary  modes  of  de- 
ducting  eiTect  from  cause  fall  to  the  ground.*  I  live  in  a  whirlpool  from, 
which  I  can- devise  no  means  of  escape,  but — by  the  grave  of  my  mo- 
ther, this  life  shall  cease.  I  shall  resume  my  power  over  the  Empress, 
and  I  shall  trample  my  enemies  under  foot,  were  they  to  take  shelter 
under  the  throjie  itself!" 

While  Potemkin  spoke  thus,  he  clinched  his  fist,  and  his  herculean 
arm  wqs  raised  as  if  to  fell  his  invisible  enemies. 

"Austria  will  be  at  your  side,  whosoever  be  the  foe,"  said  Cobenzl. 

"1  believe  you,"  replied  Potemkin  with  returning  calmness,  "for  it 
is  your  interest  to  be  there.  I  know  what  you  desire.  First  you  sup- 
plant Prussia  with  Russia,  and  that  entails  a  coolness  with  France,  Prus- 
sia's dearest  friend.  Then  you  also  dissolve  with  France,  and  we  both 
court  the  alliance  of  England,  so  as  to  isolate  France  and  Prussia  from. 
European  polities.    The  plan  is  good,  and  will  succeed  if  you  are  discreet." 

■'How  discreet?" 

"You  must  weigh  well  your  behaviour  towards  the  Czarina.  I  dare 
not  advise  the  Emperor,  but  let  me  advise  you.-  Yf>u  have  often  occa- 
sion to 'see  the  Empress.  Before  you  see  her,  consult  with  me  as  to  the 
topics  of  your  discourse  with  her,  and  so  we  shall  always  be  enabled  to 
act  in  concert.  Avoid  all  dissimulation ;  let  her  perceive  that,  you  leave 
craft  to  the  lovers  of  Prussia.  Flatter  as  often  as  you  see  fit;  flatter 
Catharine,  however,  not  for  what  she  is,  but  for  what  she  ought  fo  be.f 
Convince  her  that  Austria  is  willing  to  further  her  ambition,  not  to  re- 
strain it,  as  Prussia  has  always  done.  Do' this,  and  in  a  few  months 
Austria  v/ill  have  changed  roles  with  Prussia,  and  your  enemies  and 
mine  shall  be  overthrown  together."  »■     . 

A  knock  was  heard  at  the  door  and  an  officer  entered. 

"  How  daie  you  interrupt  me?"  cried  Potemkin,  stamping  his  foot. 

"  Pardon,  your  Highness.  The  private  Secretary  of  the  Emperor  of 
Austria  has  orders  from  his  Sovereign  to  hand  a  note  to  Count  Cobenzl 
in  your  Highncss's  presence." 

.    "A  very  singular  order.     But  we  will  gratify  the  Emperor.     Admit 
his  Majesty's 'messenger.''  '.  * 

Giinther  was  introduced,  who  bowing  low  to  Potemkin,  passed  on 
and  delivered  his  note. 

"  From  his  Majesty's  hand,"  said  he.  "Your  Excellency  is  ,to  read 
it  at  once.  It  requires  no  answer."  Then  bowing  deeply,  the  Secreta- 
ry backed  out  of  the  room,  and  the  discreet  poriiere  fell,  preventing  the 
transmission  of  the  slightest  sound. 

•  *  Polemfcm's  own  words.    Kaunmr.    Vol,  5,  p,  6'^S. 
'   tPotenilfin'sowTi  v/oHs,    Banmer. 


KMI'KlitM;  (.!■    \LMKIA  \^>  i 

'  }iea<],"  said  Potemkin,  "  f^)r. doubtless  ihe  Emperor  has  gooJ  rea- 
son for  his  haste." 

Count  Cobenzl  broke  the  seal,  but  instead  of  a  note  for  himself,  a 
*sealcd  dispatch  within  bore  the  address  of  the  Prince.  The  Count  pie- 
scuted  it  at  oKce,  and  Pottmkin  eagerly  tore  it  optn.  Re  beenied  elec- 
trified by  its  contents;  so  much  so  that  Cobenzl  started  forward  to  his 
assistance,  exclaiming,  "Gracious  Heiv  en,  what  has  happened?  Your 
litij,'hness  is  ill  !" 

"No,  no,"  said  Potcmkin,  "but  read  this,  that  I  may  be  sure  I  do  not 
dream." 

Cobenzl  took  the  letter  and  read  :  "  My  dear  Prince.  To  win  your 
friendship.  I  have  neither  flatjtery,  decorations,  duchies,  princesses,  nor 
promises  for  the  future;  convinced  as  I  am  that  your  Highness  is  able 
to  reach  the  summit  of  your  desires  without  help  from  other  mortals. 
But  1  have  something  to  impart  which  will  prove  the  sincerity  of  my 
intentions  towards  you.  An  hour  ago.  Count  Orloff  arrived  in  St.  Pe- 
tersburg, and  he  is  now  in  secret  conference  with  the  Czarina. — Joseph." 

"I  was  right;  it  was  not  my  secret  apprehensions  which  conjured 
those  spectral  letters,"  cried  Potemkin,  "  they  are  really  the  writing  of 
the  Emperor,  and  Gregor  Orlofl^is  here." 

He  sprang  forward  like  a  bull  rushing  to  the  attack. 

"Gregor  Qrlolfis  with  Catharine,  and  I  cannot  slay  him  at  her  feet ! 
But  stay,"  Cyyclaimcd  he  exultingly,  and  then  his  words  resolved  them- 
selves back  iiito  thought.  "My  key — my  key — I  will  force  her  to  hear 
me.  Count,"  continued  he  aloud,  "I  l)eg  of  you  to  excuse  me,  for  I 
must  go  at  once  to  the  Empress.  Tell  the  Emperor  that  if  1  weather 
the  storm  which  is  bursting!  over  my  head,  I  will  prove  to  him  my  ete^ 
nal  gratitude  for  the  service  he  has -rendered  me  this  day.  Farewell! 
.Pray  for  me,  or  if  you  like  better,  go  home  and  get  up  a  fine  drama  for 
the  day  of  my  burial."  ' 

"Nothing  less  than  Voltaire's  'Death  of  Julius  Cwsar,'  would  suit 
such  an  occasion,  but  God  forbid  that  your  Highness  should  come  to 
harm.     I  hasten  to  do  your  bidding."  *       • 

Potemkin,  trembling  with  impatience,  stood  watching  Count  Cobenzl. 
as  with  his  mincing  gait  he  tripped  out  of  the  room,  and  turned  again  at 
the  dcror  to  make  his  last  bow.  Scarcely  had  the  porfiere  fallen  when 
he  sprang  across  the  room,  and  darted  towards  his  sleeping-chamber. 
Near  his  bed  stood  an  escritoire.  He  flung  it  open  and  taking  thence  a 
casket  filled  with  gold  chains,  diamonds,  and  other  jewels,  he  turned  out 
i,he  contents  with  such  violence  that  they  flew  over  the  room  in  every  di- 
rection. He  found  what  he  sought;  it  was  a  little  secret  compartment. 
He  pressed  the  spring  and  it  opened,  revealing  nothing  but  a  key !  But 
Potemkin  .snatched.it  up,  and  unheeding  the  treasures  worth  a  million  that 
lay  scattered  about  the  room,  he  passed  into  a  little  dark  ante-room, 
thence  into  a  corridor,  up  and  down  stair-cases,  forwaid,  forward,  rapid- 
ly forward ! 

Finally  he  reached  the  end  of  a  lonp;  narrow  corridor.     Nothing  here 


ri!i  JMSlii'h    IHl'    >^KOt»My 

was  to  he  seen  save  a  Wanlc,  while  wall,  Nvhich  sfiparati-.i  .l'x>tenikiii's 
dwelling  from  the  Palace  of  the  Czarina.  But  in  the  corvier  of  this  wiall 
Wix^  a  S(;arcely  percep'lible  recess.  Ke  pressed  it  with  hi.s  fnii^ei',  whea^ 
the  wall  parted,  re-vealinj/  a  door,  the  door  which  led  to  Catherine's  own* 
private  apartments.  Poierakiii's  key  unlocked  it,  and  he  darted  through 
the  opening — on,  on  until  hQ  reached  anoither  door,  which  also  yielded 
ro  his  key,  and  then  breathiTig  freely  he  looked  around  the  cabipet  of 
Use  Czarina  and  exclaimed,  "I  am  saved!" 


•  CHAPTER  XXX. 

,  THE    EMPRESS    CATHAKINE. 

The  magnificent  state-apartments  of  the  Empress  were  silent  and 
empty,  for  she  had  given  out  that  as  she  needed  solitude  to  work,  she 
■would  hold  no  levee  to  day.  But  she  was  not  alone ;  she  was  in  a  cabi- 
net which  led  to  her  bed-chamber,  and  with  her  was  Count  Orloflj  her 
former  lov^r,  and  the  murderer  of  her  husband. 

The  Empress  iay  half  buried  in  the  depths  of  a  crimson  velvet  couch, 
and  iier  large,  blue  eyes  were  fixed  with  an  expression  of  tenderness  np- 
dh  Orloff  who  sat  opposite  to  her.  In  spite  of  her  fifty  years,  Catharine 
was  a  very  handsome  woman  ;  age  had  respected  her  fair,  imperial  brow 
and  the  fingers  of  Time  had  relented  as  they  passed  over  it.  Her  eyes 
were  as  bright  and'beautiful  as  ever,  her  lips  as*ed  and  their  smile  as 
fascinating  as'  in  the  days  of  her  youth  ;  and  ifi  her  bosom  beat  the  pas- 
sionate, craving,  restless  heart  of  a  maiden  of  seventeen.  This  heart 
was  as  capable  of  love  as  of  hate,  and  her  graceful  person  as  fitted  to 
inspire  love  as  it  had  ever  been.  Just  now  Catharine  was  anxious  to 
please — she  thought  over  the  golden  hours  of  her  youthful  passioa,  and 
tried  to  win  a  smile  from  OrlofF's  stern  face.  She  forget  in  him  the  man 
who  had'  placed  a  bloody  crown  upon  her  head  ;  she  saw  but  the  para- 
mour who  had  wreathed  her  brow  with  the  myrtles,  and  roses  of  retpi- 
ted  love. 

They  had  spoken  of  indifferent  things,  but  Catharine  had  grown  silent, 
and  the  silence  becoming  embarrassing  to  OrlofF, 

'•  Your  Majesty  commanded  my  presence," — began  he. 

Catharine  raised  her  iDeautiful  white  arm  from  th3  cushion  v,'here  it  lay, 
and  motioned  him  to  approach. 

"  Hush,  OrlofF,"»said  she  in  a  low  voice.  "  No  one  hears  us,  do  not 
call  me  Majesty." 

"  My  revered  Soweign,"  stammered  Orloff,  I-^ " 


"Sovereign'.'"  13o  I  lo'*k  as  if  i  veie  your  {Sovereign,  Orloii"? — No, 
no,  I  am  here  as  tho  woman  ^vho  is  not  ashamed  of  ihe  love  we  once 
cherished  for  one  another. — The  world  says  thai  I  am  not  ^ious,  and 
verily  I  believe  that  Voltaire  has  corrupted  me;  but  I  have  one  stoad- 
just  faith,  ffnd  I  cling  to  it  as  fauaiics  do  to  Christianity.  I^Iy  religion 
,is  the  religion  of  memory,  Gregor,  and  you  were  its  first  hierophant." 
''  OrlofT  muttered  s(5me  uoirilclligible  words,  for  truth  to  tell,  he  did  not 
quite  comprehend  the  vagaries  ai'  his  imperial  mistress.  Il^was  a  man 
of  deeds,  JJt  for  action  and  strife,  but  there  was  neither  imfigination  nor 
poetry  in  his  naturv;.  He  paw  however  that  Catharine  smiled  and  beck- 
oned.    He  hastened  forward,  and  bending  the  knee,  kissed  her  hand. 

"  Gregor,"  said  she  tenderdly,  "  1  sent  for  you  to  talk  of  the  prospects 
of  your  son."  ^ 

'•Your  Majesty  speaks  of  Basil  Bobinsky?"  asked  Orloff' with  a 
smile. 

"Yes,"  replied  Catharine,  "  of  your  son,  or  rather,  if  you  prefer  it,  o*" 
our  son."    . 

"  Your  Majesty  acknowledges  him,  and  yet  you  have  thrust  his  ^iher 
from  your  heart.  You  sacrificed  me  to  a  man  whom  I  hate — noJ^^'CAUse 
ho  is  my  siiccessfiil  rival,  but  because  he  does  not  deserve^^f'  l*'ve  of 
my  Empress,  because  he.  is  a  heartless  spendthrift,  and  a  v<"etch  who_  is 
ready  to  sell  his  Sovereign's  honor  at  any  moment,  pr^'ded  the  price 
oflered  him  be  worth  the  treachery.  Oh  !  it  madden^  mo  ^hen  1  thmk 
that  Gregor  Orloff  was  displaced  for  a  Potemkin  !"  „     ^.   r,  ^  a- 

Catharine  laid  her  jewelled  hand  upon  OrlolfV  lips.  "  Hush  Or  ofi, 
do  not  vituperate.  I  have  called  for  you  to-day  to  give  me  peace.  1  do 
not  wish  the  two  men  who  share  my  heart)  to  stand  forever  glaring  at 
one  another  in  implacable  hatred,  i  wish  to  unite  you  through  the 
sweet  influences  of  a  young  couple's  love. ,  1  beseech  you.  Gregor,  do  not 
refuse  me  the  boon  I  crave.  Give  your  consent  for  Basil  to  marry  the 
Countess  Alexandra,  Potemkin's  niece." 

"  Never,"  thundered  Orloff,  starting  to  his  feet,  and  retreatmg  .ike  an 
animal  at  bay.  "  Never  will  I  consent  for  my  bastard  to  marry  the 
wench  of  such  a  contemptible  fool  as  Potemkin  !"* 

Catharine  rose  from  her  couch  with  a  look  of  tender  reproach.  'You 
will  not  grant  my  heart's  dearest  wish'?"  said  she. 

"  I  eannot  do  it,  Catharine,"  cried  Orloff  wildly.     "  My  blood  boils  at 
.  the  very  thought  of  being  connected  to  Potemkin.     No,  indeed !        No 
tie  shall  ever  bind  me  to'him  that  hinder^s  my  hand  should  you  one  day 
ask  of  me  to  sever  his  head  from  his  body." 

Catharine  again  put  her  hand  before  Orloff's  mouth.  •  Hush,  you 
fulminatin<r  Jove!"  said  she.  '•  Mustr  you  be  foiever  forging  thunder- 
bolts, or  w^asing  war  with  Titans.  But  you  know  too  well  that  in  your 
godlike  moods  vou  are  irresistible.  What  a  triumph  it  is  to  wm  a  boon 
from  such  a  man  !— Invest  me  with  this  glory,  Orlofl,  and  1  give  up  my 

plan  for  a  marriage  between  Basil  and  Potemkin's  niece. 

•  Orloff's  own  words.    Banmer's  Contributions,  &c ,  Vol.  5,  P  412. 


1  -i  i  JOSKI'I)    iJiK   -,J<.<J(.)M) 

"  ^Niecu,"  ecliwed  Orlol}',  f  say  his  mistress." 

"  Not  so,"  exclaiined  Catharine.  .  "So  treacherous,  i  wiii«  not  believe 
.Poterakin'to  be !" 

"  Nevertheless,  Alexandra  is  his  mistress,  and  the  whole  court  Ivnows 
it."        ,  ■  ,  «■  • 

"If  I  find  it  so,  Potemkin  shall  feel  tlic  weight  of  my  vengeance,- and 
nothing  shall  sav6  him!'"  cried  Catharine,  her  eyes' darting  fire.  ''-But 
I  tell  you  it  is  not  so.     He  has  his, faults,  but  this  is  not  one  of  them." 

"  Then  you  confess  that  the  great  Potemkin  has  fliults,  do  ^ou  f 

"it  was  precisely  because  of  his  faults  that  I  sent  for  you 'i" 

"You — Gregor  OrlofT,  the  truest  of  the  true  I     You  have  done  me 

good  service  in  your  life  ;  to  you  I  am  indebted  for  ray  crown^  and  you 

are  its  brightest  jewel.    .But  I  have  a  favor  now  to  ask  of  you   which 

'  concerns  my  happiness  more  than  a-iything  you  have  ever  done  for  me 

before,  my  Gregor." 

''Speak  my  Empress,  speak,  and  T  will  die  to  serve  you,"  replied  Or- 
Jo" '"Spired  by  Catharine's  earnestness. 

.  biie  ii\^  her  white  hand  upon  his  shoulder,  and  said  in  her  most  en- 
,ticmg  tont^  :  «  g^  ^j^^  ^^.-^^^^  ^^  Potemkin.  Let  him  learn  by  your  ex- 
ample to  bfcrnore  careful  of  the  great  trusts  which  he  holds  from  me, 
more  conciliatii^r^  and  more  grateful.  For  indeed  in  return  for  all  the 
javors  1  bestow  upon  him,  he  makes  my  life  one  long  martyrdom.  For 
God  s  sake,  OrlofT,  U  friendly  with  Potemkin,  and  try  to  rescue  me  from 
^  the  tempests  which  daily  and  hourly  burst  over  my  devoted  head."'* 
bhe  leaued  her  head  upon  his  bosom,  and  looked  imploringly  into  his 

T-  ''Your  Majesty,"  said  OrlofT  warmly,  "  you  know  that  I  am  your  slave. 
^  Jt  i  otemkm  is  obno.xious  to  you,  speak  the  word  and  I  annihilate,  him— 
I  But  my  reputation  will  not  permit  me  to  consort  with  a  man  whom  I 
I  despise,  and  whom  1  should  be  forced  nevertheless  to  regard  as  the  first 
;^  sM bject  of  the  Empire.  Pardon  me  if  1  cannot  grant  vour  Majesty's  pe- 
tition." to         .  J      J     r 

"  Go  then,  cruel  man,  and  leave  me  to  my  fate,"  said  Catharine  in 
tears^.  -  •'         ' 

"  Since  your  Majesty  desires  it,  I  retire."  And  Orlofl'  bowing,  turn- 
^ed  to  leave  the  room,  but  Catharine  threw  herself  upon  the  sofa  with  a 
jSob,  and  he  returned. 

I  "  Do  you  weep  for  Potemkin  ?"  'said. he.  "  Spare  vour  tears— He 
Joves  no  one  but  himself,  and  his  only  aim  in  life  is  to  enervate  and 
Ijweaken  your  mind,  that  he  may  reign  in  your  stead." 

"  Oh,  Orlofi;  be  merciful,"  said  Catharine,  clasping  her  hands. 
But  OrlofT  continued  :■  "Potemkin  has  essentially  damaged  your  fleet, 
le  has  ruined  your  army,  and  what  is  worse,  he  has  lowered  you  in  the 
istmiation  of  your  subjects,  and  of  the  world.     If  you  are  willing  to  be 
|id  of  so  dangerous  a  man,  my  life  is  at  your  disposal,  but  if  you  must 

*C«thariTift'fl  own-words. 


1:M1'KH<.)K  (JP  AUSTRIA  t*25 

temporise  with  him,  I  can  do  nothing  to  further  measures  which  are  to 
be  Ciiriied  out  by  llattery  and  hypocrisy." 

"  I  believe  you,  unhappily  I  believe  ynu,"  said  Catharine  weeping. 
'•  Potenikin  deserves  all  that  you  say  of  him,  but  I  have  not  the  heart 
to  punish  him  as  he  deserves.  I  cannot  bid  you  dfsiroy  the  giant  whos-c 
shadow  darkens  my  throne.  You  see,  Orloff,  that  I  am  a  poor  weak  wo- 
mao,  and  have  not  the  stronc;th  to  punish  the  guilty." 

"  I  see  that  your  Majesty  prizes  the  oppressor  ot  my  country  far  more 
than  that  country's  self,  and  siucp  it  is-  so,  J  have  nothing  more  to  do 
here.     Farewell,  Catharine,  I  must  return  to  Gatzchina." 

lie  kissed  the  hand  of  the  Empress,  and  passed  into  the  adjoining 
apartment,  lie  went  slowly  throughlhe  magnificent  state-rooms  through, 
which  he  had  to  pasR  to  the  corridor,  and  with  weeping  eyes,  Catharine 
followed  his*tall  form  from  door  to  di:)or.  She  would  have  leaned  for 
support  upon  that  strong  man,  but  he  refused  to  shelter  her,  and  she  felt 
a  sense  of  desolation  which  seemed  to  her  a  presentiment  of  evil. 

"  Orlofir  Orloff,"  cried  she  imploringly;-  and  she  hastened  aftef  him. 
IIo  was  passing  out  into  the  corridor  when  he  heard  her  voice,  and  saw 
hfer  coming  fleet  as  a  doe  towards  him. 

"  OrlofF,"  said  she  panting  for  breath,  "  do  not  leave  St.  Petersburg  to- 
day. Remain  for  three^  days,  and  perhaps  in  that  time,  I  may  gather 
courage  to  accept  your  help,  and  rid  iWyself  of  this  man." 

"  I  will  await  your  Majesty's  decision,"  replied  Orloff,  "  (yid  if  then 
my  sword  is  not  required  in  your  service,  I  shall  leave  St.  Petersburg 
lorever. 

lie  bowed  and  the  heavy  portiere  fell  behind  hitn  as  he  passed  from 
the  Czarina's  sight.  Slowly  she  returned  to  her  cabinet  murmuring, 
"Three  days  he  will  wait  to  know  if " 

But  suddenly  she  started,  appalled  at  the  sight  of  an  apparition  that  oc- 
cupied the  divan  on  which  ijhe  was  about  to  repose  4ier  weary  limbs. 
She  uttered  a  wild  scream  of  terror,  for  on  this  divaii  sat — '- — Potemkin. 


CirAPTER  XXXI.       • 

THK  CZARINA  AND  H£R  MASTER. 

WriH  flashing  eyes,  folded  arms,  and  pale,  sterii  face  sat  Potemkin, 
and  his  glance-  seemed  about  to  annihilate  the  terrified  woman,  who  had 
neither  strength  to  call  for  help,  nor  self-possession  to  greet  her  unwel- 
come visitor.  He  rose,  however,  and  came  forward.  Catharine  trem- 
bled and  shuddered  as  he  passed  her  Ijj^,  locked  the  door  and  put  the  key 
iu  his  pocket. 


126  JOSEPH    IHK  SKCON!) 

The  Erapress, looked  around  and  in  deadly  fear  saw  that  there  was  no 
hope  of  rescue.     She  was  alone  with  Polemkin,  entirely  alone  ! 

Not  a  word  had  yet  been  spoken,  but  this  fearful  silence  affrighted  her 
more  than  a  tempest  of  angry  words,  would  have  done. 

At  last  Potemki'n  stood  directly  before  her  and  spoke.  "  '  If  Potem- 
kin  is  obnoxious  to  you,  speak  the  word  and  I  annihilate  him.'  " 

"  Oh!"  screamed  Catharine,  '"  he  knows  all  !" 

"  Yes,  I  know  all,  I  heard  Orloff  offer  to  be  my  executioner.  Pray 
why  did  you  not  accept  the  offer  at  once  ?" 

lie  had  come  so  near,  that  Catharine  felt  his  hot  breath  upon  her  brow, 
like  the  blast  from  a  furnace.        .  - 

"  1  ask  you  again,"  said  he  stamping  his  foot  with  fury,  "why  do  you 
not  let  the  axe  of  your  executioner  fall  upon  my  neck'?     Answer  me  !" 

Catharine  was  speechless  with  fright,  and  Potemkin,  exasperated  at 
her  silence,  raised  his  clenched  hand  and  looked  so  fierce  that  the  Czarina 
fell  backwards  almost  upon  her  knees,  miirmuring, 

"  Potemkin,  would  you  kill  me  !" 

"  And  if  I  did,"  cried  he,  grinding  his  teeth,  "  would  death  not  be  the 
just  punishment  of  your  treachery'?  Your  treachery  '  to  me  who  have 
given  you  my  heart,  my  soul,  Aiy  life — while  you — betray  and  accuse 
me,  nor,  face  to  face,  as  would  an  honorable  woman,  but  behind  my  back 
as  becomes  a  coward  and  a  hypcforite!  Look  at  me  and  answer  my 
question  J  command  you  !' 

Again  he  raised  his  hand,  and 'his  deep  voice  rolled  like  angry  thunder 
in  her  ear.  Catharine,  against  her  will,  o-beyed  his  voice  and  raised  her 
eyes  to  his.  She  saw  his  lofty  brow,  like  that  of  an  angry  demi-god, 
his  dark,  dangerous,  fiery  eyes,  his  glistening  teeth,  his  magnificent 
frame,  lithe,  athletic,  and  graceful  as  that  of? 

^"The  statue  that  enchants  the  world," 

and  a  sensation  of  shuddering  ecstacy  flooded  her  whole  being.  For- 
gotten were  her  fears,  her  terror,  her  dream  of  vengeance — and  regard- 
less of  the  hand  which  was  still  raised  to  threaten  her,  she  cried  out  in 
tones  of  mingled  love  and  anguish, 

"  Oh,  Alexandrowitsch,  how  preterhmnan  is  your  beauty  !  You  stand 
like  an  avenging  god  before  me,  ancH — I  can  only  worship  and  trem- 
ble!" 

With  faltering  steps  she  approached,  and  folding  her  arms  around  his 
stalwart  form,  she  laid  her  head  upon  his  breast,  and  wept.  "See,"" 
murmured  she,  "  I  am  here  to  receive  the  stroke.  Let  me  die  by  your 
hand,  Gregor  xilexandrowitsch,  for  since  you  love  me  no  'longer,  I  am 
weary  of  life !" 

Potemkin  heaved  a  sigh  and  freeing  himself  from  Catharine's  arms, 
fell  back  upon  the  sofa,'  buried  his  face  in  his  hands,  and  sobbed  convul- 
sively. 

"  Why  do  you  weep,  Potemki/i  ■?"  said  Catharine,  hastening  to  his 
side. 


EMrKK.UK  OF  AUSTRIA.  |  27 

"  Why  I  weep!"  exclaimed  he.  "  I  weep  becniiso  of  my  own  crlmf.. 
Despair  had  well  nigh  made  ut  me  a  traitor.  Vvhy  does  not  this  h;md 
wither,  which  was  uplifted  to  touch  the  anointed  of  the  Lord!  Why 
does  not  heaven  smite  the  wretch  whose  misery  had  tempted  him  to 
such  irreverence  of  his  Soverei^!" 

And  Poteinkin  flung  himself  at  Catharine's  feet  crying  out:  "Kill 
me,  Catharine,  that  I  may  not  go  mad  for  remorse  of  my  treason !" 

Catharine  smiled  and  tried  to  raise  him  un.  '"No,"  said  she  tender- 
]y,  "  live,  and  Jive  for  me."' 

But  PotemUin  still  clung  to  her  feet.  '•  No,  let  me  lie  here  as  the 
sinner  lies  before  tire  altar  of  the  Most  High  !  1  am  a  traitor,  but  des- 
pair has  made  mc  criminal.  As  I  stood  behind  the  tapei'try  and  heard 
ho\f  my  Empress  accused  me,  I  felt  that  the  spectral  hand  of  niadness 
was  hovering  above  my  brain  !  Oh,  Catharine,  it  is  you  whom  I  adore," 
you  who  have  made  ot  me  a  lunatic!" 

Again  he  burled  his  face  in  Catharine's  robes,  and  wept.  She,  per- 
fectly dis'armed,  leaned  over  him,  caressing  him  with  her  hands,  and  im- 
ploring him  to  be  comforted. 

"  Let  me  lie  here  and  weep,"  conlin.uedher  Alexandrowitscb,  "not  for 
"Ac,  but  for  my  Catharine — the  star  of  my  life  !  She  whom  my  enemies 
would  deceive,  that  deceiving  they  might  ruin  her,  when  her  only  friend 
is  lost  to  her  forever  !" 

"  Of  whom  do  you  speak  ?"  asked  the  Czarina,  frightened. 

"I  speak  of  those  who  ffale  me  because  I  will  not  join  them  in  their 
treachery  towards  my  Empress — of  those  who  hold  out  to  me  gold  and 
diamonds,  and  who  hale  me  becaus6  I  will  not  sell  my  loyalty  for  p.^lf. 
Oh,  I  was  flattered  with  orders  and  honors,  promises  and  presents  !  But 
I  would  not  listen.  What  cared  1  for  future  security,  what  mattered  it 
to  me  that  I  was  to  be  the  victim  of  Paul's  vengeance — 1  thought  of  you 
alone,  and  more  to  me  was  the  safety  of  your  crown  than  that  of  my 
worthless  life  ! — I  was  loyal  and  incorruptible  ! 

Catharine  had  listened  with  distended  eyes,  and  lips  parted  in  sus- 
pense. When  Potemkin  named  her  soil,  her  whole  bearing  changed. 
From  the  love-strieken  woman,  she  leaped  at  once  into  the  magnificent 
Czarina.         '  m. 

"  Potemkin,"  saBshe  imperiously,  "I  command  you  to  rise  arid  an- 
swer my  questions,  . 

Potemkin  rose  with  the  promptness  of  a  well  trained  slave,  and  said 
humbly  :  "  Imperial  mistress,  speak,  and  by  the  grave  of  my  mother,  I 
will  answer  truthfully." 

"  What  means  your  allusion  to  the  Grand  Duke,  Paul "?  Who  are 
the  enemies  that  sought  to  corrupt  you  ?■     What  are  their  aims  ?" 

*'  The  Grand  Duke  is  weary  of,  his  subordinate  position,  and  yearns 
for  the  crown  which  he  thinks  it  is  his  right  to  wear." 

Catharine's  two  hands  clutched  at  her  head  as  though  to  defend  her 
crown.  "He  shall  not  have  it!"  she  screamed.  He  will  not  dare  to 
raise  his  impious  bauds  to  swatch  his  mother's  right?  awa.y  !" 


128  JOSEPH  THE  SECOND 

"  He  will  find  other  bands  to  do  it,  for  you  well  know,  Catharine,  that 
the  crime  from  which  we  recoil  ourselves,  we  transfer  to  other  hands, 
while  we  accept  its  fruits."  • 

Catharine  shuddered,  and  grew  pale.  "Yes — yes,"  murmured^  she  to 
herself,  "yes,  I  know  it — welj  I  know  it,  for  it  has  murdered  sleep  for  me !" 
"And  the  Grand  Duke  has  accomplices,  Catharine.  Not  -one — nor 
two,  but  half  of  your  subjects  mutter  within  themselves  that  the  crown 
you  wear  has  been  Paul's  since  his  majority.  Russia  is  one  grand  con- 
spiracy against  you,  and  your  enemies  have  pitched  their  tents  at  the 
foot  of  your  throne.  They  may  well  hate  the  only  man  who  stands  be- 
tween you  and  destruction.  Their  arrows  have  glanced  harmlessly  from 
the  adamantine  shield  of  his  loyalty,  and  there  remained  but  the  alter-  ' 
native  of  calumniating  him  to  his  Empress.  Oh,  Catharine,  my  angel., 
'beware  of  Paul,  who  has  never  forgotten  how  his  father  lost  his  life  ! 
Beware  of  Orloff,  who  has  never  forgiven  you  for  loving  me!  Both 
these  traitors,  with  Panin  to  truckle  to  them,  are  in  league  with  Von 
Gortz  to  force  you  into  a  league  destructive  of  Russian  aggrandisement. 
Oh,  toy  beloved!  Sun  of  my  existence,  mount  into  the  heaven  of  yolir 
own  greatness,  and  let  not  the  cloud  of  intrigue  obscure  your  light ! 
And  when  safe  in  the  noon-day  of  your  splendor,  you  think  of  this  day, 
let  one  warm  ray  of  memory  stream  upon  the  grave  of  the  man  who 
died  because  his  Empress  had  ceased  to  love  him  !" 

At  the  conclusion  of  his  peroration,  Potemkin  knelt  down  and  pas- 
sionately kissed  the  hem  of  Cathrine's  robe.  Then  springing  up,  he 
clasped  his  hands  and  turned  away.  But  the  Empress  darted  after  him 
like  an  enraged  lioness,  and  catching  his  arm,  gasped,  "What!  You 
would  leave  me,  Alexandrowitseh'?" 

"  Yes — I  go  to  Orloff  to  receive  my  death.  The  Empress  has  willed 
it,  and  she  shall  find  me  obedient  even  unto  my  latest  breath." 

"No,  Gregor,"  said  Catharine,  weeping  p'rofusely,  "you  shall  remain- 
to  shield  me  from  my  enemies."  So  saying,  she  put  her  arms  arouHd 
his  neck,  but  he  drew  them  away, 

.     "  N^,  Catharine — No !     Aft^r  what  I  have  heard  to-day,  I  do  not  de- 
sireto  live.     Let  me  die,  let  me  die !" 

"  No,  Potemkin,  no,"  cried  she,  struggling  to  de^n  him, "  I  shall  ne-^ 
ver,  never  mistrust  you  again,  and  I  promise  yot^phat  Gregor  Orlofl' 
shall  never  pass  this  threshold  again." 

"  How  •?  Do  you  promise  to  sacrifice  Orloff  to  me  T  cried  Potemkin 
eagerly,. cured  in  a  trice  of  his  desire  for  death. 

"  I  do,  Gregor,  I  do.  There  shall  be  but  one  Gregor  to  reign  over  my 
Court  and  my  heart,  and  he  shall  be  Gregor  Potemkin  !" 

"  You  swear  it,  Catharine  ?" 

"My  imperial  word  thereupon.  Now  will  you  remain  and  protect 
me?" 

"  Yes— =1  remain  to  confound  your  enemies  !  It  shall  not  be  said  that 
I  have  flown  in  the  hour  when  your  noble  head  is  endangered  !  I  shall 
remain  for  your  sake,  for  the  peril  is  very  great,  Catharine  ?" 


i;,MI'KU<>h  OK    f\UMI(lA  12:' 

"Gracious  heaven,  Grcgor,  vsrhat  danger  threatens  mo?" 

"You  ask  me  such  a  question  while  Paul  livbs,  and  has  Orlofl'  and 
Panin  lor  his  accomplices,  and  Frederic  for  his  friend?" 

'•  Oh,  no,  dear  Gro;;or,  your  anxiety  leads  you  into  error.  I  know  that 
Paul  hates  nie^  but  I  do  not  believe  that  Prussia  is  his  ally,  for  it 
is  clearly  the  interest  of  Prussia  to  conciliate  nie,  and  ho  is  too  wise 
to  entangle  himself  in  such  conspiracies  just  at  the  expiration  of  our 
treaty." 

"  Oh,  -you  noble,  unsu.=!pccting  woman  !"  cried  Potemkin  ardently, 
"you  know  nothing  of  the  egotism  of  the  world.  You  believe  in  the 
honesty  of  Frederic,  while  he  speculates  upon  the  consequences  of  vour 
death!" 

The  Empress  grew  pale  and  her  eyes  flashed  with  anger.  '•  Prove  it 
to  me,"  said  she  imperiously. 

Potemkin  drew  from  his  bosom  the  letter  he  had  that  morniDT  re- 
ceived  from  Frederic.  Catharine  read  it  and  then  said,  "  Much  flattery, 
and  many  mysterious  promises.     What  do  they  mean  ?" 

"  Count  Von  Goriz  was  so  good  as  to  explain.  The  King  offered  to 
make  me  Duke  of  Courland,  to  give  me  a  German  princess  in  marriage 
and  to  secure  me  the  flivor  of  your  successor." 

"  That  is  not  possible,"  exclaimed  Catharine,  "  those  were  idle  words." 

*'  Oh,  no,  your  Majesty,  I  will  prove  to  you'  that  they  are  not,  as  soon 
as  Von  Gortz  is  announced." 

The  Empress  looked  at  the  clock  which  pointed  to  two. 

"It  is  exactly  the  hour  1  appointed  to  receive  him,"  said  she.  "He 
must  be  in  the  ante-room." 

"  Have  I  your  permission  to  go  to  him  ?" 

The  Empress  nodded  abd  Potemkin,  drawing  the  key  from  his  pocket 
unlocked  the  door  and  disappeared.  Catharine  looked  after  him  and 
heaving  a  bitter  sigh,  said,  "  No  more  hope  of  rescue!  He  rules  over 
me  like  irresistible  destiny  !" 

In  a  few  moments,  Potemkin  returned  with  the  paper.  Catharine 
having  looked  over  it,  returned  it  with  a  smile. 

"  I  thank  the  King  of  Prussia  for  this,"  said  she  gently,  "for  my  last 
hours  will  no  longer  Be  embittered  by  anxiety  for  your  safety,  AJexan- 
drowitch.     Preserve  this  paper  with  care." 

Potemkin  took  it  from  her  hand  and  tore  it  to  pieces. 

"  Are  you  mad  ?"  cried  Catharine,  "  that  you  tear  this  promise  of  pro- 
tection from  Paul  ?" 

"  When  Catharine  dies,  I  no  longer  desire  to  live,  and  I  hope  that 
Paul  may  release  me  of  life  at  once — I  shall  die  rei'oicing." 

"  Oh,^  Gregor,"  exclaimed  Catharine,  again  moved  to"  tears,  "  I  shall 
never  forget  these  words  !  You  have  sacrificed  much  for  me,  and  yo\i 
shall  have  princely  reward,  on  my  word,  you  shall!  Let  the  Grand 
Duke  be  careful  to  utter  no  inconsiderate  words,  for  the  steppes  of  Si- 
beria are  as  accessible  to  the  Prince  as  to  the  peasant,  and  every  traitor, 
\fere  he  the  heir  of  the  crown  itself,  is  amenable  to  justice  before  me  ? 


130  iUbKI'H    lliK  ^!<;CUN'I). 

And  Pnnin  with  his  eternal  pratiiigs  of  honesty  and  frankness,  let  him 
too,  beware,  for  he  wavers  on  the  edge  of  a  precipice  !" 

"And  Prussia'?"  asked  Potemkin  with  a  smile. 

Catharine  smiled  in  return.  "I  cannot  chide  /im,  Potemkin,  for  he 
would  iiave  befriended  ?/o«." 

-"  And  the  treaty  1     Do  you  intend  to  renew  it  with  this  wise,  far-see- 
ing Prince  V 

"  I  cannot  say.  It  depends  npon  the  offers  he  makes.  Stay  in  this 
room,  Gregor,  and  l  will  receive  Von  Gortz  in  the  next  one,  where  you 
can  here  what  passes  between  us."' 


CHAPTEPo    XXX II.     - 

A  DIPLOMATIC  DEFEAT. 

The  Empress  entered  the  small  audience-chamber  adjoining  her  cabi- 
net and  ringing  a  bell,  gave  orders  that  Count  Von  Gortz  and  Count 
Panin  should  be  admitted.  Then  she  glided  to  an  arm-chair,  the  only 
one  in  the  ropm,  and  awaited  her  visitors,  who  conformable  to  the  eti- 
quette of  the  Russian  Court  bowed  three  times  before  the  all-powerful 
Czarina.  Panin's  salutation  was  that  of  a  serf  who  is  accustomed  to  kiss 
the  dust  from  his  tyrant's  feet ;  Von  Gortz,  on  the  contrary,  had  the  bear- 
ing of  a  man  of  the  world,  accustomed  to  concede  homage  and  to  exact 
it. 

"  Well,  Count,"  said  the  Empress  graciously,  "  what  pleasant  news. do 
you  bring  from  Sans-Souoi  1  Has  your  accomplished  Sovereign  recov- 
ered from  his  indisposition?" 

"  The  King  has  recovered,  and  will  be  overjoyed  to  learn  that  your 
Majesty  takes  so  much  interest  in  his  health." 

"  Oh,"  exclaimed  Catharine,  "the  great  Frederic  knows  how  much  in- 
terest I  feel  in  his  life— perhaps  as  much  as  he  has  in  my  death." 

Count  Von  Gortz  looked  in  astonishment  at  the  smiling  face  of  the 
.Empress.  "  What !  Your  Majesty  says  that  my.  Sovereign  has  an  in- 
terest in  your  Majesty's  death  !" 

"  Did  I  say  so  i"  said  Catharine  carelessly.  "  It  was  a  slip  of  the  ton- 
gue, my  dear  Count.  I  should  have  said  takes,  not  has  ;  for  many  peo- 
ple fapcy  they  have  what  they  would  like  to  take.  I  should  have  said 
then,  that  the  King  cannot  take  more  interest  in  my  death,  than  I  do  in 
his  life." 

"  The  King,  your  Majesty,  is  much  older  than  you,  and  war  has  added 
to  his  years." 


r;.vii'i-;K(»i;  <u-  aL.-^iiua  1.;1 

"If  war  !i(lds  to  our  jears,"  replied  Catharine   laughing,  "then  I  eei 
taiiily  must  be  superannuated." 

'•  May  the  lime  have  arrived  when  their  Majesties  of  Kussia  and  Prii? 
sia  may  sheathe  the  sword  and   enjoy  the  unspealc;ible  lilessinfrs  of  pf  r-  ^ 
inancnt  peace,"  s:iid  Von  G< .iti^  wHh  en^'^ha^s. 

"  Are  you  of  the  same  mind,  Panin  V  allied  Catharine  quickly. 

''I  know  from  my  SoX'ereign's  noble  heart  that  she  would  jrladly  be- 
stow peace  upon  the  world,  and  I  believe  that  the  time  has  come  when 
this  is  possible,"  replied  Panin  evasively. 

"  It  is  true,  wo  have  for  the  moment  no  pretext  for  war.  The  trou- 
bles between  the  Porte  and  myself  were  settled  at  the  last  peace  con-- 
vention,  and  he  will  take  good  care  not  to  provoke  a  renewal  of  hostili- 
ties. We  have  no  reason  to  apprehend  any  breach  of  peace  in  Poland, 
and  our  relations  with  the,  other  European  powers  are  equally  fricndlv. 
England,  Holland  and  France  seek  our  good-will,  Prussia  -is  our  fiim 
ally,  and  Austria  by  sending  her  Emperor  himself  has  given  the  most 
blattering  proof  of  her  consideration  for  Russia.  It  would,  appear  that 
we  enter  upon  an  epoch  of  universal  concord." 

"  And  to  give  stability  to  this  great  blessing."  replied  Vou  Gortz,  "it 
1*  the  duty  of  (ill  Sovereigns  to  fuse  their  separate  interests  into  one 
great  alliance,  whose  watch- word  shall  be  '  Peace  !'  In  presence  of  those 
Avho  are  bound  together  by  the  tie  of  one  common  policv,  no.Timbitious 
enemy  will  venture  to  disturb  the  great  international  r<»st." 
..  "  I  think  we  are  already  able  to  present  the  scare-crofw  of  such  an  al- 
liance to  covetous  princes,  for  -we  have  a  firm  ally  in  Prussia,  have  we 
not?"  said  Catharine  smiling. 

'•  Our  treaty  was  but  for  eight  years,  your  Majesty,"  interposed  Pa- 
nin, "  and  the  eight  years  have  expired." 

"Have  they,  indeed?"  exxlaimed  Catharine,  surprised.  "Well — cer- 
tainly years  do  fly,  and  before  we  have  time  to  think  of  death,  our  graves 
open  to  receive  us.  I  feel  that  I  am  growing  old,  and  the  King  of  Prus- 
sia would  be  wise  if  he  w'^ere  to  direct  his  new  negotlatioris  towards  my 
successor,  and  make  him  the  partner  of  his  magnanimous  schemes  for 
universal  peace." 

"Your  Majesty  is  pleased  to  jest,"  said  Von  Gortz,  reverentially. 
"But  to  show  you  how  heartily  my  Sovereign  desires  to  cement,  his 
friendship  with  the  mighty  Empress  of  Russia,  I  am  empowf>red  bv  hitn 
to  make  new  proposals  for  a  renewalof  the  eight  years'  treatv." 

"Are  you  acquainted  with  these  proposals,  Panin?"  asked  Catharine, 

"No,  your  Majesty.  I  on\}' knov/ from  Count  Von  Gortz  that  his 
proposals  are  merely  preliminary,  and  not  until  they  obtain  your  Majes- 
ty's approbation  will  the  King  present  them  formally." 

"  Very  well,  C-nmt,  let  us  hear  your  preliminaries,"  said  Catharine. 

"My  Sovereign  desires  nothing  so  7nuch  as  a  permanent  alliance  with 
Russia,  which  shall  give  peace  to  Europ6,  and  deter  over  ambitious 
Princes  front  trenching  upon  the  possessions  of  other  crowns.  yTo  se- 
cure  this  end,  my  Sovereign  thinks  that  nothing  would  be  so  favorable 


I.j2  (<)SKrH    THK  SIDOONI) 

as  an  oiTensi%-e  and  defensive  alliance,  with  a  guarantee  of  permanent 
bonndury-lines  between  Russia,  Prussia,  Poland  and  Turkey.  Such  au 
alliance.  iiT  the  opinion  of  my  Sovereign,  would  give  'durable  peace  to 
VVestern  Europe..  If  the  conditions  be  acceptable  to  your  Majesty,  my" 
yovereign  will  make  like  projpiQijitioiis  tu  Poland  and  Turkey,  and  the 
treaty  can  be  signed  at  once;  for  it  has  been. ascertained  that  France  ap- 
proves, and  as  for  Austria,  the  very  nature  of  the  aliiance  and  its  strength, 
n'ill  force  her  to  respect  the  rights  of  nations,  and  give  up  her  preten- 
sions to  territorial  aggrandizement." 

The  Czarina  had  listened  to  this  harangue  with  growing  displeasure. 
Her  impatience  had  not  escaped  the  eyes  of  Panin,  and  he  saw  that  the 
scheme  would  be  unsuccessful.  He  had  promised  to  second  the  propo- 
sals of  the  Prussian  Minister,  but  the  stormy  brow  of  the  Empress  was 
mightier  than,  his  promise,  and  he  boldly  determined  to  change  his  front. 

When  Count  Von  Gortz  ceased,  a  silence  ensued-,  for  the  Czarina  was 
too  incensed  to  speak.  She  looked  first  at  the  Prussian  Ambassador, 
then  at  her  Minister  of  Foreign  Aflkirs,  who  was  turning  over  in  his 
mir\d  what  he  should  say.  , 

"And  these  are  the  proposals  of  the  King  of  Prussia!"  cried  she,  when 
she  found  breath  to  vent  her  indignation.  "Instead  of  a  simple  renewal 
of  our  mutual  obligations,  you  wish  to  entangle  us  into  alliances  with 
Turkey  ! — ;Count  Panin,  you  are  my  Minister,  I ,  therefore  leave  it  to 
you  to  answer  the  Prussian  Ambassador  as  beseems  the  dignity  and 
interest  of  my  crown." 

She  leaned  back  in  her  arm-chair,  and  bent  a  piercing  glance  upon  the 
face  of  her  Minister.  But  he  bore  the  test  without  change  of  feature, 
and  turning  with  perfect  composure  to  his  ex  conliederate,  he  said  : 

"As  my  Sovereign  has  commanded  me  to  deliver  her  reply,  I  must 
express  my  surprise  at  the  extraordinary  preliminaries  presented  by 
.your  Excellency.  -  Hi's  Majesty  of  Prussia  proposes  an  alliance  of  Rus- 
sia with  Turkey.  The  thing  is  so  preposterous  that  1  cannot  conceive 
how  so  wise  a  Prince  as  your  Sovereign  could  ever  have  entertained 
the  idea  !"""•  , 

"  Good,  Panin,"  said  Catharine,  nodding  her  head. 

Panin,  encouraged  by  the  applause,  went  on  :  "  Peace  between  Rus- 
sia and  Turkey  can  never  be  anything  but  an  armistice  j  an  alliance  with 
the  Porte,  therefore,  is  incompatible  either  with  our  policy  or  with  the 
sentiments  of  my  revered  sovereign."* 

"  In  this  case,"  replied  Von  Gortz,  bowing,  "  my  Sovereign  withdraws 
the  proposal,  which  was  merely  thrown. out  as  an  idea  upon  which  he 
was  desirous  of  hearing  the  opinion  of  his  august  ally,  the  Empress." 

"Then  you  know  7ny  opinion  upon  this  'idea',''  cried  Catharine,  ri- 
sing from  her  seat,  and  darting  fiery  glances  at  the  Ambassador.  "  Count 
Pariin  has  expressed  it  distinctly,  and  I  desire  you  to  repeat  his  words 
to  the  King  of  Prussia.  And  that  the  great  Frederic  may  see  tb.at  I 
make  no  secret  of  my  policy,  he  shall  hear  it.     Know,  then,  that  my  last 

•  Panin's  own  wnrcl»-    Pohm's  Memoirs.    Vol.  1,  paftes  40(1  and  40t. 


treaty  of  peace  with  Turkey  was  but  a  hollow  truce,  whereby  1  hoped 
to  gain  time  and  strength  to  carry  out  the  plans  which  1  shall  never 
abandon  while  I  live.  The  King  has  guessed  ther^.  and  therefore  h3 
sent  me  these  unworthy  propos'ils.  Russia  has  not  reached  tke  limit  of 
her  boundaries:  her  ambition  is  oo-extensive  with  the  w<uid  ;  and  she 
means  to  grow  and  prosper,  n<^r  y^f.  be  content  when  Poland  bows  her 
neck  to  the  yoke,  and  the  Cros-cent  has  given  place  to  the  Greek  Cross  I" 

So  saying,  the  Czarina  bowed  her  head,  and  haughtily  left  the  room. 
When  she  raised  {he 23ortiere,  there  ?at  Potcnikin  in  the  fullness  of  his 
satisfaction,  ready  to  greet  her  with  his  most  beaming  smiles.  Catha- 
rine motioned  him  to  follow,  and  they  returm^d  to  the  cabinet.  Once 
tliere,  the  Czarina  threw  herself  upon  the  divan  and  sighed. 
'  "Shut  the  door,  Potemkin,  close  iha 2yor(iere,  for  in  good  sooth  T  know 
not  whether  I  am  about  to  laugh  or  cry.  1  feel  as  ifl  had  been  hearing 
a  fable  in  which  all  my  schemes  were  transformed  into  card-houses,  and 
were  blown  away  by  the  wind  !  But  indeed  I  must  laugh!  The  good 
King  of  Prussia!  Only  think,  Gregor,  an  offensive  and  defensive  al- 
liance with  Turkey  !     Is  it  not  enough  to  make  you  laugh  until  you  cry  f 

"I  cannot  laugh  at  such  a  disregard  for  the  sacred  rights  of  man,"  re- 
plied Potemkin.  "This  proposal  of  Prussia  is  an  outrage  to  the  faith 
of  the  whole  Russian  nation,  and  a  challenge  to  you,  my  noble  Sove- 
reign, whose  bold  hand  is  destined  to  tear  down  the  symbol  of  the  I\ios- 
lem  and  replace  it  with  that  of  tlie  Christian  !" 

"And  believe  me,  dearest  friend,  1  am  ever  mindful  of  that  destiny," 
replied  Catharine. 

"And  the  treaty  between  Russia  and  Prussia " 

"  Will  not  be  renewed." 

"  Check  to  the  King  then,"  cried  Potemkin,  "and  check-mate  will  soon 
follow."  ^ 

"  Yes — the  King  is  old,  and  would  gladly  end  his  days  in  a  myrtle- 
grove :  while  I  long  to  continue  my  flight,  higher  and  higher,  till  /reach 
the  sun  !     But  who  will  go  with  me  to  these  dizzy  heights  of  powi?r " 

"His  Majesty  the  Emperor  of  Austria,"  said  the  loud  voice  of  a  gen- 
tleman in  waiting,  who  knocked  at  the  door  of  the  cabinet. 

"The  Emperor,"  exclaimed  Catharine.  "Yon  know  I  granted  his  re- 
quest to  coiue  to  me  unannounced ;  but  [  have  given  orders  to  the  sen- 
tries to  send  the  word  forward,  nevertheless,  so  that  I  always  know- 
when  he  is  about  to  appear." 

"Farewell,  Catharine,"  said  Potemkin.  "The  crow  must  give  place 
to  the  imperial  falcon.  Why  am  I  not  an  Emperor  to  offer  you  my 
hand,  and  be  your  only  protector !" 

"Could  I  love  you  more  if  you  were  an  Emperor,  Gregor?  But  hush! 
He  comes,  and  as  soon  as  his  visit  is  ended  return  to  me,  for  I  must  see 
you." 

Potemkin  kissed  her  hand  again  and  again,  and  vanished  through  the 
tapestry  by  a  secret  door  which'  led  to  a  small  corridor  connected  with 
the  Czaiina's  private  apartments.     Biit  instead  of  crossing  this  corridor, 


134  H)S1<;PH    IHK   -SI^X'ONJJ 

lie  turned  into  a  little  boudoir,  through  which  the  Emperor  would  haw- 
to  pass,  and  there  awaited  his  appeurance.  He  came,  and  seeing  Po- 
tenikin,  looked  surprised,  but  bowed  with  a  gracious  smile. 

Potemkin  laid  his  finger  upon  his  lip,  and  pointed  to  the  cabinet. 
'•Sire,"  said  he  in  a  whisper,  "I  have  anticipated  you.  Prussia  has  re- 
ceived an  important  check,  ahd  th'e  treaty  will  not  be  renewed.  Ifc  rests 
with  your  Majesty  now  to  improve  the  opportunity  and  supplant  the 
King  of  Prussia.  Be  sympathetic  and  genial  with  the  Czarina — aboiie 
all  things  flatter  her  ambition  and  the  game  is  yours.  Depend  upon  my 
hearty  cooperation." 

"A  thousand  thanks,"  whispered  Joseph  in  return.  Potemkin  made 
a  deep  and  respectful  salutation,  and  left  the  room.  As  he  closed  the 
door  noiselessly  behind  him,  the  Emperor  crossed  the  threshold  of  the 
imperial  cabinet. 


^      CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

THE  CZAraNA   AND  THE    EMPEROR, 

When  Joseph  entered,  he  found  the  Empress  reclining  with  careless 
grace  upon  the  divan,  perfectly  unconscious  that  he  was  anywhere  with- 
in her  palace-walls.  But  when  she  saw  him,' she  sprang  up  from  the 
cushion  on  which  she  lay,  and  with  protestations  of  delighted  surprise, 
gave  him  both  her  hands.  He  bent  over  those  soft  white  hands,  and 
kissed  them  fervently. 

"  1  come  to  your  Majesty  because  I  am  anxious  and  unhappy,  and  my 
heart  yearned  for  your  presence.  I  have  bad  news  from  Vienna.  My 
mother  is  ill  and  implores  me  to  return  home." 

"  Bad  news,  indeed  !"  exclaimed  Catharine  sadly.  "  The  noblest  and 
-greatest  woman  that  ever  adorned  a  throne  is  suffering,  and  you  threat- 
en to  leave  me.  But-  you  must  not  go,  now  that  the  barriers  which  have 
so  long  divided  Austria  from  Russia'have  fallen." 

"  Your  Majesty  may  well  speak  of  barriers,"  laughed  Joseph,  "  for  we 
were  parted  by  a  high  Spanish  wall,  and  the  King  of  Prussia  walked  the 
•ramparts  that  we  might  never  get  a-glimp^e  of  each  other.  Well  !  I 
have  leaped  the  walls,  and  I  consider  it  the  brightest  act  of.my  life  that 
i  should  have  journeyed  thither  to  see  the  greatest  Sovereign  of  the  age, 
the  woman  before  whoni  a  world  is  destined  to  succumb !" 

■'•Do  not  give  me  such  praise,  sire,"  replied  Catharine  with  a  sigh  ; 
•'  the  Son  of  Maria  Theresa  should  not  bestow  such  eulogium  upon  me. 
It  is  the  Erapces-s-of  Austria  whd  unites  tho  wVdora  of  a  law-giver  and 


EMf KKoK  (If    AUbJKlA.  |;5;3 

the  bravery  of  a  warrior  with  the  virtues  of'ti  pure  and  sinless  \voman  ♦ 
Oh,  my  friend,  I  am  not  of  that  privileged  band  who  have  prji»gerved 
theins-elves  snulless  from  the  sins  of  the  world  !  I  have  bought  niy  im- 
perial destiny  with  the  priceless  gem  of  womanly  innocence! — Do  noti 
interrupt  me — we  arc  alone,  and  I  feel  that  bcfoi'e  no  human  being  can 
1  bow  my  guilty  head  with  such  a  sense  of  just  humiliation  as  before  the 
son  of  the  peerless  Empress  of  Austria!" 

"The  Empress  of  Austria  is  still  a^  woman,  reigning  through  the  prompt- 
ings of  her  heart,  while  Catharine  wears  the  crown  with  the  vigor  of  a 
man. — And  who  ever  thought  of  rei[uiring  from  an  Emperor,  the  pri- 
meval innocence  of  an  Arcadian  shepherdess  ?  lie  who  would  be  great, 
must  make  acquaintance  with  sin,  for  obscurity  is  the  condition  of  inno- 
cence— Had  YOU  remained  innocent,  you  had  never  become  Catharine 
the  great.  There  are  unhappily  so  many  men  who  resemble  women, 
that  we  must  render  thanks  to  God  for  vouchsafing  to  our  age,  a  woman 
who  equals  all,  and  surpasses  many  men?" 

"You  have  Initiated  a  new  mode  of  flattery,  sire,"  said  Catharine 
blushing  with  gratification,  "  but  if  this  is  your  fashion  of  praising  wo- 
men, you  nvist  be  a  woman  hater.     Is  it  so?" 

"  I  would  worship  them  if  they  resembled  Catharine;  but,  I  have  suf- 
fered through  their  failings  and  I  despise  them.  You  know  not  how 
many  of  my  bold  schemes  and  bright  hopes  have  been  brought  to  naught 
by  women! — I  am  no  longer  the  Joseph  of  earlier  days — 1  Have  been 
shorn  of  my  strength  by  petticoats  and  cas=?ocks," 

"  How  can  you  so  bely  yourself?"  said  Catharine.  "  it  is  but  a  few 
months  since  we  had  good  proof  that  the  ambition  of  the  Emperor  Jo- 
seph was  far  from  being  quenched  forever." 

"  Ah!  your  Majesty  would  remind  me  of  that  ridiculous  affair  with 
Bavaria.  It  was  my  last  Quixotism,  t)ie  dying  struggle  of  a  patriotism 
■which  w^onld  have  made  of  Germany  one  povvertul  and  prosperous  na- 
tion !  And  it  was  you  who  opposed  me — you  who  of  all  the  potentates 
in  Europe,  are  the  one  who  should  have  understood  and  sustained  me  ! 
Believe  me  when  I  say  that  had  Catharine  befriended  me  there,  she 
would  have  won  the  truest  knight  that  ever  broke  a  lance  in  defence  of 
fair  ladye.  But  for  the  sake  ot  a  dotard  who  is  forever  trembling  lest  I 
rob  him  of  some  of  his  withered  bays,  the  bold  Athene  of  the  age  for- 
got her  godlike  origin  and  mission,  and  turned  away  from  hini  whom 
she  should  have  countenanced  and  conciliated.  Well ! — It  was  the  error 
of  a  noble  heart,  unsuspicious  of  fair  words.  And  fair  words  enough 
had  Frederic  for  the  occasion.  To  think  of  such  a  man  as  he  flaunting 
the  banner  of  Germany  in  my  face — he  who  not  many  years  ago  was 
under  the  ban  of  the  Empire  as  an  ambitious  upstart ! — He  thought  to 
scare  me  with  the  rustling  of  his  dead  laurel-leaves,  and  when  he  found 
that,l  laughed  at  such  Chinese  warfare,  lo  !  he  ran  and  hid  himself  under 
my  mother's  petticoats;  and  the  two  old  crowns  fell  foul  of  one  an- 
other, and  their  palsied  old  wearers,  plotted  together,  until  the  great  war 
upon  which  I  had  staked  my  fame  was  juggled  into  a  shower  of  aim ival 


136  ^U>SKPH    IHH  >IWUM> 

confetti  I  Ob,  you  lauiih  at  me,  and  well  may  you  lau;:;h  ! — I  am  a  fool 
to  wasti^  so  much  enthuhiiiism  upon' such  a' tool's  holiday  P'  \  ■ 

"  No,  I  do  not  hiugh  at  you,"  replied  Calhaiine  laying  her  arm  \i^X)X\ 
his,  "1  lau^h  for  joy,  to  see  how  lustily  you  hate.  A  man  who  hates 
fiercely,  loves  ardently,  and  my  whole  heart  glows  with  sympathy  for 
such  a  being.     So  then  you  hate  him.  soundly,  this  King  of  Piussia?" 

"Hate  him,"  cried  Joseph  clenching  his  hand,  "aye  indeed,  1  hate 
him!  He  has  instigated  Germany  to  oppose  me ;  he  wrested  Bavaria 
from  me,  which  was  mine  by  right  of  two-fold  inheritance ;  and  1  detest 
him"  the  more  that  he  is  so  old,  so  gouty,  and  so  contemptible,  that  to 
defeat  him  now,  woukj  not  add  one  hair's  breadth  to  my  reputation  as  a 
general!" 

"  It  is  true,"  said  Catharine  thoughtfully,  "  Fre'derlc  is  growing  very 
old.  ■  Nothing  remains  of  the  former  hero,  but  a  dotard  who  is  incapable 
of  comprtehending  the  march  of  events."  ' 

"And  yet,  is  ambitious  to  legislate.  Oh,  Catharine,  beware  of  this 
old  King,  who  clings  to  you  to  support  his  own  (ottering  royalty,  and 
to  obstruct  your  schemes  of  conquest.  But  he  will  not  succeed  with 
you  as  he  has  done  by  me.  You  have  no.  mother  to  thruSt  you  aside 
while  she  barters  away  your  rights  for  a  mess  of  potage  ! — 1  see  your 
eagle  glance- — it  turns  towards  the  South,  where  roll  the  stormy  waves 
of  the  Black  Sea  !  I  see  this  fair  white  hand  as  it  points  to  the  Mosques 
of  Constantinople,  where  the  Crescent  is  being  lowered  and  the  cross  is 
being  planted " 

Catharine  uttered  a  cry  of  ecstacy,  and  putting  her  arms  around  Jo- 
seph's neck,  she  imprinted  a  kiss  upon  his  brow. 

,.  "  Oh,  1  thank  you,  Joseph  !"  exclaimed  she  enthusiastically.  "  Y<^m 
have  comprehended  the  ambitious  projects  which  identified  as  they^are 
with  my  existence  as  a  Sovereign,  1  have  never  yet  dared  to  speak  above 
my  breath !" 

"  I  have  guessed  and  I  approve,"  said  Joseph  earnestly.  "  Fate  has 
assigned  you  this  mission  and  you  must  fulfil  it." 

"  Oh,  my  God,"  ejaculated  Catharine,  "  Ihave  found  a  friend  who  has 
read  into  my  heart." 

"  And  who  will  aid  you,  when  you  call  him  to  your  side." 

"  I  accept  the  ofler,  and'  here  is  my  hand.  And  so,  hand  in  hand  we 
shall  conquer  the  world.  God  be  praised,  there  is  room  enough  for  us 
both,  and  we  must  divide  it  between  us.  Away  with  all  little  thrones 
and  their  little  potentates  !  Oh,  friend,  what  joy  it  must  be  to  dwell 
among  the  heights  of  Olympus  and  feel  that  all  below  is  ours  !  I  am 
intoxicated  with  the  dream  !  Two  thrones, — the  throne  of  the  Greek 
and  the  throne  of  the  Roman  Emperors;  two  people  so  mighty  that 
they  dare  not  war  with  one  another;  while,  side  by  side,  their  ginnt 
swords  forever  sheathed,  they  shqd  peace  and  happiness  upon  the  further- 
most ends  of  the  earth  !     Will  you  realise  with  me  this  god  like  dream  ?" 

"  That  will  I,  my  august  friend,  and  may  God  grant  us  life  and  oppor- 
tunity to  march  on  to  victory  together  I" 


EMPEKOK  Of  AaSTRJA  137 

"  To  victory,"  echoed  Catharine,  "  and  to  the  fulfillment  of  the  will  of 
Peter  the  Great.  He  enjoined  it  upon  his  successors  to  purge'Europc 
of  the  Infidel,  and  to  open  the  Black  Sea  to  Christendom.  In  Stamboul 
I  shall  erect  the  throne  of  my  grandson,  ConstaiUine,  while  in  Peters- 
burg, Alexander  extends  the  domains  of  Russia  in  Europe  and  in  Asia. 
Yr>u  do  not  know  all  thnt  I  have  already  done  for  classic  Greece.  From 
his  birth,  I  have  destined  Constantino  to  the  Greek  throne.  His  nurses, 
his  playfellows,  and  his  very  dress,  are  Greek,  so  that  his  native  tongue 
is  that  of  his  future  subjects.  Even  now,  two  hundred  boys  are  on  their 
way  from  Greece,  who  are  to  be  the  future  guards  of  the  Emperor  Con- 
stantine!  As  the  medal  which  was  struck  on  the  day  of  his  birth  pre- 
figured his  destiny,  so  shall  his  surroundings  of  every  kind,  animate  him 
to  its  glorious  fulfillment.  Look — I  have  already  a  chart  on  which  Con 
stantine  is  to  study  the  geography  which  my  hand  is  to  verify  for  him 
and  for  his  brother." 

The  Empress  had  risen  and  approached  her  escritoire.  From  a  secret 
drawer  within  another  drawer,  she  took  a  roll  of  parchment  which,  after 
beckoning  to  the  Emperor,  she  placed  upon  the  table.  They  unrolled 
it,  and  both  bent  over  it  with  beating  hearts. 

"Observe  first  the  marginal  illustrations,"  said  Catharine.  Here 
stands  the  Genius  of  Russia  leaning  up«n  the  Russian  shield.  To  the 
left  you  see  arrows,  horses'  tails.  Turkish  banners  and  other  trophies — 
here  at  the  top,  you  see  the  Black  Sea,  where  a  Russian  .ship  is  in  the  act 
of  sinking  a  Turk." 

"  Here  in  the  centre,  is  the  empire  of  Greece  and  the  Archipeligo. 
Take  notice  of  the  colors  on  the  map,  for  they  show  the  boundaries. 
The  yellow  is  the  boundary-line  of  the  Greek  empire.  It  begins  in  the 
northwest  by  Ragnsa,  takes  in  Skopla,  Sophia  Phillippolis  and  Adrian- 
oplc  as  far  ^s  the  Black  Sea.  It  then  descends  and  includes  the  Ionian 
islands,  the  Archipeligo,  Mytelene  and  Samos.  That  is  the  Empire  of 
•  Ttnstantine,  whose  capital  is  to  be  Constantinople.  The  red  lines  show 
the  future  boundaries  of  Russia.  They  pass  "through  Natolia,  beginning 
in  the  north  by  Pendavaschi,  and  end  with  the  Gulf  of  Syria." 

The  Emperor  who  hud  been  following  Catharine's  jewelled  hand  with 
anxious  scrutiny,  now  looked  up  with  a  significant  smile. 

"Your  Majesty's  map  reminds  me  of  an  incident  among  my  travels. 
In  the  beginning  of  my  unhappy  Regency,  I  was  inspecting  the  bounda- 
ries of  my  own  empire.  In  Moravia  I  ascended  a  steep  mountain  whence 
I  had  a  view  of  the  surrounding  country.  '  To  whom  belongs  that  pret- 
^  ty  village?'  said  I.  ' '  To  the  Jesuits,'  was  the  reply.  '  And  this  tract 
with  the  chapels  1'  'To  the  Benedictines.'  'And  that  Abbpy  ?'  *  To  the 
('larissarines.'     'But  where  then  are  mi/  possessions?'  said  I." 

"And  your  Majesty  would  put  the  same  question  to  me,"  interrupted 
the  Czarina.  "Look  at  the  colors  of  the  map.  We  have  appropriated 
the  yellow  and  the  red,  but  there  is  another  color  to  be  accounted  for." 

"  I  see  a  boundary  of  green,  which  includes  Naples  and  Sicily,"  said 
Joseph,  looking  down  upon  the  map  with  ne^  interest. 


138  JOSEPH  THE  SEUUNU. 

*' Those  are  the  boundary  lines  of  new  Austria,''*  said  the  Empress 
with  a  triumphant  smile.  "As  I  hope  for  the  re-t^stablishineiifc  of  empire 
in  Greece,  so  must  your  Majesty  accompliih  that  of  Rome.  Sincie  you 
have  no  objection  to  give  me  the  Black  Sea,  I  shall  make  no  opposition 
to  the  extension  of'  your  empire  to  the  shores  of  the  Mediterranean. 
Italy,  Tike  Germany,  is  a  prey  to  petty  Princes.  Rescue  the  Italians 
from  their  national  insignificance,  sire,  and  throw  the  a^gis  of  your  pro- 
tection over  the  sit-e  of  the  old  Roman  empirc.  Do  you  not  bear  the 
title  of  King  of  Rome?  Give  to  that  title  meaning  and  substance. 
Yours  is  the  south  and  west,  mine  is  the  east,  and  together  we  shall 
govern  the  world." 

Joseph  had  listened  with  breathless  attention.  At  first  he  grew  pale, 
then  a  flush  of  triumph  suffused  his  face;  and  he  took  the  hand  of  thq 
Czarina  and  drew  it  to  his  heart. 

"  Catharine  !"  cried  he,  deeply  moved,  "from  my  soul  I  thank  you  for 
this  inspiration !  Oh,  my  heart's  interpreter,  you  have  read  my  secret 
yearnings  to  be  in  deed,  as  well  as  in  word,  '  King  of  Rome!'  Yes — 1 
would  free  Italy  from  the  oppression  of  the  Church,  and  lead  her  on  to 
greatness  that  shall  rival  her  glorious  pastf  God  is  my  witness,  I  would 
have  done  as  much  for  Germany;  bat  Germany  has  rejected  me,  and  I 
leave  her  to  her  fate.  For  the  future  I  remain  Emperor  of  Austria;  and 
my  empire  shall  be  so  vast,  so  prosperous,  and  so  powerful,  that  Catha- 
rine of  Russia  shall  esteem,  me  an  ally  worthy  of  the  greatest  woman  cf 
modern  times." 

"Two  faithful  allies,"  exclaimed  Catharine,  "  allies  bound  by  one  com- 
mon policy,  whose  watchword  shall  be  'Constantinople  and  Rome'!" 

"Aye,"  returned  Joseph  with  a  laugh,  "  though  while  you  raise  the 
standard  of  the  cross  in  Constantinople,  /shall  overturn  it  in  Rome.  As 
soon  as  my  shackles  fall,  I  shall  set  to  work !" 

"I  see  that  you  have  faith  in  my  plans,"  cried  Catharine,  foyfully. 
'^^  "  Such  faith  tliivt  I  would  aid  them  from  my  heart,  were  they  even^t^ 
require  the  co-operation  of  Frederic,"* 

"I  shall  have  no  co-operation  but  yours,"  was  the  reply.  "  Besides  I 
know  that  you  owe  a  grudge  to  Turkey." 

"  I  do,  for  she  has  taken  Belgrade,  and  I  must  re-take  it.  The  Dan- 
ube is  my  birthright  as  the  Black  Sea  is  yours.  I  give  up  Germany  to 
concentrate  my  forces  upon  Turkey  and  Italy." 

"  Let  us  await  the  proper  time,  and  when  I  see  it,  I  shall  call  upon 
you  to  come  with  me  and  crush  the  intrusive  Moslem." 

"  Look  upon  me  as  your  general,  and  upon  my  army  as  yours,"  replied 
Joseph,  kissing  the  hand  which  the  Czarina  extended.     "And  now,"  con- ' 
tinned  he,  "  I  must  say  farewell,  and  I  fear  it  is  for  a  long  .«:eparation." 

"  Indeed !"  cried  Catharine.     "  Must  I  lose  you  so  soon  ?" 

"  My  mother  is  sKjk,  and  yearns  for  my  presence,"  said  .Toseph.  "  The 
Emperor  parted  from  her  in  displeasure  ;   but  the  son   must  not  slight 
the  call  of  a  mother,  who  perchance  is  on  her  death-bed.     I  start  for 
♦Rau'tieft    CcnlributioDs,  4c    Yf>l  ^,  p  444. 


£ttrRROE  OF  AtrSTRIA,  139 

Vienna  to  day.  aud  before  I  leave,  at  the  risk  of  being  accused  of  flat 
t?ry.  I  must  express  to  your  Majesty  the  admiration,  respect  and  love 
v\  hich  I  feci  for  the  noblest  wonian  I  have  ever  known."* 

The  Empress,  overcome,  put  her  arms  around  Joseph's  neck  and  fol- 
ded hh.;  to  her  heart. 

"Oil,  were  you  my  3on,"'  whispered  she,  "1  mij^ht  thank  heaven  for 
the  gift  of  a  nohle  child  who  was  soul  of  my  soul !  Were  you  mine,  I 
shoiild  not  be  the  victim  of  courtiers'  intrigues,  but  with  my  proud  arm 
within  yours  I  might  defy  the  world  !" 

As  she  spoke  these  words,  Catharine  raised  the  Emperor's  hand  to  her 
lips.  _ 

Joseph  uttered  a  cry,  and  sinkicg  on  his  knees,  kissed  the  hem  of  her 
robe.  Then  rising,  as  if  reluctant  to  break  the  solemnity  of  their  part- 
ial by  a  sound,  he  turned  and  left  the  room. 

Catharine  looked  after  him  with  tearful  eyes.  "  Oh  God  he  has  left 
me!  I  have  found  a  noble  heart  only  to  grieve  that  it  can  never  ha 
Jiiiue.     I  am  alone— ^nlone — it  is  so  dreadful  to  be "' 

Suddenly  she  ceased,  for  a  deep,  melodious  voice  began  to  sing.  Ca- 
tharine know  that  the  voice  was  Potemkin's,  and  that  he  was  calling  her 
w  the  secret  agartments  which  she  had  fitted  up  for  her  lover. 

The  song  awakened  bitter  memories.  Potemkin  had  written  it  in 
former  years,  and  she  had  shed  tears  of  emotion  when  she  heard  it — 
tears  which  at  that  time  were  as  precious  to  him  as  were  his  finest  dia- 
monds today. 

The  music  ceased,  and  two  tears  which  had  gathered  in  the  Czarina's 
e-^es,  stole  down  her  cheeks.  As  if  drawn  by  an  invisible  hand  she 
crossed  the  room,  and,  stooping  down,  pressed  a  tiny  golden  button 
which  was  fastened  to  the  floor.  A  whirr  was  heard,  the  floor  opened 
.'ukI  revealed  a  windinji  staircase  which  led  from  her  cabinet  to  the  room 
ol  her  favorite. 

As  her  foot  touched  the  first  step,  she  raised  her  eyes  with  a  look  of 
despair  to  heaven,  and  her  trembling  lips  murmured  these  words,  "  Ca- 
tharine once  more  in  chains  !'' 

*  Th«  Eoiperor'a  owa  words.    Baamer.    ToL  9,  p.  96S. 


END  OF  VOL  III 


\ 


^ 


Mk 


••  • 

V 

A 


^ 


:     • 


V 

W 


f  J 


DBLIGMIOI 


HARDEE'S  INFANTRY  TACTICS.    9th  Edition. 
WHEELER'S  CAVALRY  TACTICS.  -  | 

LADY  AUDLEY'S  SECRET.         •  [ 

SILAS  MARNER.  I 

RAIDS  AND  ROMANCES  OF  MORGAN  AND  HIS  I 
MEN.     2nd  Edition. 

TANNHAIJSER. 

THE  CONFEDERATE. 

CHAUDRON'S  SPELLING  BOOK. 

do.  FIRST  READER. 

do.  SECOND  READER. 

THREE  MONTHS  IN  THE  SOUTHERN  STATES 
By  Lieut.  Col.  Fremantle. 


^>      Cojft/rigin 

S€€ure(f.  ^ 

If 


JOSEPH  II 


AND  HIS  COURl 


!! 


^^  1]Y   L.  MUULBAIII. 


jFrom  tf)c  (Scnnaii, 


VOLUME  IV. 


^  MOiJif.K 

s.  H.  r40F.fv.Kr,.  rur.i.t.-.iip.i;. 


1  S  (5  4 

%J. 


•>'  "c-.'fe^    *•)      Farrow  &  Dennett,  Printers  Mobile.      C_3^''' 


>  j 


SW 


^  HV  AUKLAIOE  DeV.  rHAlinUON.  ^|f 


/A' 


OSEPH  II. 


AN1»  HIS  COURT. 


Ill  ^btaxml  |[obtI, 


?Y  L,  MliHLBACH. 


jFrom  tfjc  ©fcrman, 

BDELAIDE  De  V.  CHAUDRON. 


OLUME  IV, 


MOBILE: 

GOETZEL.  PUBLISHER. 
1864 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  3JI864,  by 
S.  H.  GOETZEL, 
In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  cfbama, 
for  the  Confederate  States  of  Amer 


Farrow  &  Dennett,  prinlem. 


THE  REIGx\  OF  JOSEPH. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE    OATH. 

Maria  Theresa  was  no  more.  On  the  29th  day  of  November,  of  the 
year  1780,  she  went  to  rejoin  her  much  loved  "  Franz," — him  to  whom 
her  last  words  on  earth  were  addressed,  fn  her  dyinj^  moments,  her 
pale  countenance  illuminated  by  joy,  the  Empress  would  have  arisen 
from  the  arm-chair  in  which  she  sal  awaiting  her  release.  The  Emperor 
who  had  devoted  himself  to  her  with  all  the  tenderness  of  which  his  na- 
ture was  capable,  held  her  back.  "  Whither  would  your  Majesty  go  V 
asked  he,  terrified.  Maria  Theresa  opened  her  arms,  exclaiming,  "  To 
thee  !  To  thee  !  I  come."  Her  head  fell  hack,  and  her  dying  lips  were 
parted  once  more.     Her  son  bent  his  head  to  catch  the  fluttering  words, 

"  Franz — my  Franz " 

Maria  Theresa  was  no  more  !  '  The  tolling  of  bells  and  the  roll  of 
the  muffled  drum,  announced  to  Vienna  that  the  body  of  their  beloved 
Empress  was  being  laid  in  the  vault  of  the  Capuchins,  and  that  after  so 
many  years  of  parting,  she  rested  once  more  by  the  side  of  the  Emperor 
Francis. 

The  iron  doors  of  the  crypts  were  closed,  and  the  thousands  and  tens 
of  thousands  who  had  followed  the  Empress  to  her  grave,  had  returned 
to  their  saddened  homes.  The  Emperor,  too,  followed  by  his  confidants, 
Lacy  and  Rosenberg,  had  retired  to  his  cabinet.  His  face  \Tas  inex- 
pressibly sad,  and  he  paced  his  room  with  folded  arms,  utterly  forgetful 
of  his  friends,  whom  nevertheless  he  had  requested  to  follow  him,  and 
who,  both  in  the  embrasure  of  a  window,  were  silently  awaiting  the 
awakening  of  the  Emperor  from  his  dumb  grief. 

At  last  he  remembered  their  presence.  Directing  his  steps  towards 
the  window,  he  stood  before  them,  and  looked  anxiously  first  at  one,  then 
at  the  other. 

"  Was  1  an  undutiful  son  ?"  asked  he  in  a  faltering  voice.  "  I  implore 
you,  my  friends,  make  me  no  courtier's  reply,  but  speak  the  plftin,  un- 
varnighed  truth,  and  tell  me  whether  I  was  an  ungrateful  son  to  my  no- 
ble mother.     Lacy,  by  the  memory  of  your  own  mother,  be  honest." 


4  JOSEPH  TIIS  SECOND. 

"  By  the  memory  of  my  mother,  sire,"  said  Lacy  solemnly,  "  No ! — 
You  bore  the  burthen  of  your  filial  duty  with  exemplary  patience,  and 
bowed  your  will  to  the  will  of  your  mother,  even  when  you  knew  that 
she  erred  in  judgment." 

"  And  you,  Rosenberg  1"  asked  Joseph  with  a  sad  smile. 

"  My  opinion,  sire,  is  that  you  were  a  noble,  all-enduring  son,  whose 
.heart  was  not  hardened  against  his  mother,  although  from  your  childhood 
it  had  provocation  to  become  so.  Your  Majesty  bore  with  more  than 
any  other  man  would  have  done  whose  lips  had  not  been  locked  by  filial 
tenderness." 

"  1  was  silent  but  resentful,"  said  Joseph  mournfully,  "  I  bore  my 
burthens  ungraciously,  and  Maria  Theresa  was  aware  of  it — I  have  often 
been  angered  by  her,  but  she  has  often  wept  for  my  sake.  Oh,  those 
tears  disturb  my  conscipoce  !" 

"  Your'Majesty  should  remember  that  the  Empress  forgave  and  for- 
got all  the  dissentions  of  bygone  years,  and  that  in  her  last  illness,  she 
expressed  herself  supremely  happy  in  your  Maja^ty's  care  and  tender- 
ness." 

"  You  should  remember  also  that  with  the  sagacity  which  is  often 
vouchsafed  to  the  dying,  MariaTheresa  confessed  that  she  had  unwill- 
inghy  darkened  your  Majesty's  life  by  her  exactions,  and  in  the  magna- 
nimity of  her  regret,  asked  your  forgiveness." 

"  I  have  said  all  this  to  myself,"  replied  Joseph,  "I  have  repeated  it 
o'er  and  o'er  in  these  wretched,  sleepless  nights ;  but' still  the  dagger  of 
remorse  is  in  my  heart,  and  now  I  would  gladly  give  years  of  my  life,  if 
my  mother  were  living  that  I  might  redeem  the  past  by  cheerful  sub- 
mission to  her  every  wish  !" 

"  Let  the  great  Empress  rest  in  peace  !"  exclaimed  Lacy.  "  She  was 
weary  of  life,  and  died  with  more  than  willingness.  Your  Majesty  must 
cherish  your  life,  mindful  of  the  vast  inheritance  which  your  mother  has 
left  you." 

"  You  are  right.  Lacy,"  cried  Joseph  warmly.  "  It  is  a  noble  inheri- 
tance, and  I  swear  to  you  both  to  cherish  it,  not  for  my  own  sake,  but  for 
the  sake  of  the  millions  of  human  beings  of  whose  destinies  I  shall  be 
the  arbiter !  I  swear  to  be  a  good  Sovereign  to  my  people.  By  the 
tears  which  my  mother  has  shed  for  me,  I  will  dry  the  tears  of  the  un- 
fortunate, and  the  blessing  she  left  me  with  her  dying  breath,  I  shall  be- 
stow upon  the  Austrians  whom  she  loVed  so  well. — If  I  should  ever  for- 
get this  vow,  you  are  here  to  remind  me  of  it.  And  now  that  my  reiga 
begins,  I  exact  of  you  both  a  proof  of  your  loyalty." 

"Speak,  sire,"  said  Lacy,  with  a  bright  and  affectionate  smile. 

"  Put  me  to  the  test,"  cried  Rosenberg,  "  and  I  shall  not  flinch."  The 
Emperor  laid  his  hands  upon  the  shoulders  of  his  friends,  and  looked  at 
them  with  ynmistakeable  affection.  "  Happy  is  the  maa  who  possesses 
two  auch  friends.  But  hear  what  I  exact  of  you — I  stand  upon  the  thres- 
hold of  a  new  order  of  things.  I  am  at  last  an  Emperor,  free  to  carry 
out  the  designs,  whicb   for  so  many  long  years  I  have  been  forced  to 


KMI'KROR  VV  AUSTRIA. 


thrust  back  and  stifle  in  my  sorrowing  heart.     I  am  resolved  to  enlight,- 

eu  iind  to  elevale  my  subjects.     But  if  in  my  zeal  to   do  well,  I  should 
l«clv  discretion,  it  is  for  y.on  lo  check  and  warn  me.     And  if  I  heed  not 
your  warnings,  you  shall  per.si.vt,  even  if  your  persistaiioe  become  ollen- 
sive.     Will  y(»u  promise  ine  to  do  so,  de,ir  fiiends?" 
"  We  promise,"  said  IjOth  wiih  one  brcalh. 

"  God  and  the  Emperor  have  heard  the  promise.  Give  me  your  hon- 
est hands,  my  bet-t  and  truest  friends.  You,  at  loaist,  I  shall  never 
doubt;  I  feel  that  your  friendship  will  be  mine  until  the  day  of  mv 
death!"  ^ 

"Your  Majesty  is  the  youngest  of  us  three,"  said  Lacy,  "and  you 
speak  as  if  we  would  outlive  you." 

"Age  does  not  count  by  years,"  replied  the  Emperor  wearily,  "l)ut 
by  wounds,  and  if  you  count  the  bears  that  disappointment  has  left  upon 
my  heart,  you  will  find  that  I  have  lived  longer  than  either  of  you. 
Promise,  then,  to  be  with  me  to  ihe  last,  and  to  close  my  eyes  for  me." 
^'Your  wife  and  children  will  do  that  for  you,  sire,"  said  PiOsenberg. 
"  1  shall  never  marry  again.  My  noi>hew*,  Franci.s,  shall  be  my  heir, 
and  I  shall  consider  him  as  my  son.  The  Empress  of  Russia  has  "con- 
seuted  to  give  him  her  adopted  daughter  in  marriage,  and  I  trust  that 
Francis  may  be  happier  in  wedlock  than  his  unfortunate  uncle.  My 
heart  is  no  longer  susceptible  of  love." 

"And  yet  it  beats  with  such  yearning  love  towards  mankind,"  ex- 
claimed Jlosenberg. 

"  Yes — my  heart  belongs  to  my  people,  and  there  is  nothing  left  of  it 
for  woman.  For  my  subjects  alone  I  shall  live.  Their  souls  shall  be 
freed  from  the  shackles  of  the  church,  and  they  shall  no  longer  be  led 
like  children  by  the  hands  of  priests  or  prelates!  You  have  tranquil- 
izt^d  my  conscience,  and  1  have  received  your  vow  of  fidelity  till  death. 
With  two  such  Mentors  to  advise  me,  1  may  hope  at  last  to  do  some- 
thing (ov  fame !" 


CHAPTER  II. 


PRINCK    KAUNITZ. 


For  three  days  Prince  Kaunitz  had  not  left  his  cabinet.  No  one  was 
allowed  to  approach  him  except  the  servant  who  biought  the  meals, 
which  the  Prince  sent  away  almost  untouched.  Jlis  h'ousehold  were 
sorely  troubled  at  this,  for  no  one  had  as  yet  vent'ared  to  communicate 
the  tidings  of  the  Empress's  death.     Still  he  seerjied  to  know  it,  lor  pre- 


1i  .JOSErU   THJi:  SKOONO. 

ciselj  on   tlie  day  of  her  demise,  Kauiiitz  had   retired  to  his'  cabinet, 
whence  he  Jiad  not  emerged  since. 

Todaj'.the  tolling  of  bells  and  the  dull  sound  of  muffled  druins  had 
doubtless  revealed  to  him  that  the  funeral  was  at  hand.  Still  he  had 
questioned  nobody,  and  sat  in  stupid  silence,  apparently  nnmindfut  of 
the  tumult  without.  Even  when  the  procession  passed  his  own  house 
he  remained  rigid  in  his  chair,  his  large  eyes  glaring  vacantly  at  thb  wall 
opposite. 

Baron  Binder  who  had  noiselessly  entered  his  room,  and  had  been 
watching  the  Prince,  saw  two  large  tears  rolling  slowly  dovrn  his, face, 
and  the  sight  of  these  tears  emboldened  him  to  approach  the  solitary 
mourner. 

When  he  saw  Binder,  his  lips  quivered  slightly,  but  he  made  no  other 
sign.  Binder  laid  his  hand  upon  the  shoulder  of  the  Prince,  and  felt  n 
start. 

"Take  compassion  upon  us  who  love  you,"  said  he,  in  a  low,  trem- 
bling voice.     "Tell  us  what  it  is  that  grieves  you,  dear  friend." 

"Nothing,"  replied  Kaunitz. 

"This  is  the  first  time  that  I  have  ever  known  your  Highness  to  speak 
an  untruth,"  cried  Binder,  boldly.  'Something  grieves  you  ;  if  not — why 
those  blanched  cheeks,  those  haggard  eyes,  and  the  tears  that  even  now 
are  falling  upon  your  hands'?" 

Prince  Kaunitz  moved  uneasily,  and  slowly  turned  his  head. 

"  Who  gave  you  the  right  to  criticise  my  behaviour?"  asked  he  in  a 
freezing  tone  of  displeasure.  "  Does  it  become  such  as  you  to  measure 
or  comprehend  the  sufferings  of  a  great  mind?  If  it  pleases  you  to  pa- 
rade  your  troubles,  go  out  and  ask  sympathy  of  the  contemptible  world, 
but  leave  tQ,  me  the  freedom  of  sorrowing  alone !  My  grief  is  self  sus- 
taining. It  needs  no  prop  and  no  consolation.  Attend  to  your  affairs 
of  state,  and  go  from  hence.     I  wish  no  spies  upon  ray  actions." 

'•Ah  !"  said  Binder  tenderly,  "  'tis  not  my  eyes  that  have  acted  the 
spies,  but  my  heart,  and " 

"Baron  Binder,"  interrupted  Kaunitz,  "  you  are  not  under  this  roof 
to  dissect  my  sentiments  or  to  confide  to  me  your  own ;  you  are  here  to 
."ttssist  me  as  a  statesman.  Go,  therefore,  and  confine  your  efforts  to  the 
buViness  of  your  office." 

Bi\'ider  heaved  a  sigh,  and  obeyed.  It  was  useless  to  offer  sympathy 
when  iV'  provoked  such  stinging  resentment. 

The  S'>.'''ites-Refe-endarius  had  scarcely  reached  ^^his  study  before  the 
folding-doo.i'i'  of  Prince  Kaunitz's  entrance-rooms  were  flung  wide  open, 
and  the  valetvn  attendance  announced, 

"  His  Majest^y,  the  Emperor."      ' 

A  shudder  waV  perceptible  through  the  frame  of  the  Prince,  and  he 
clutched  at  the  arli;is  of  the  chair  in  an  attempt  to  rise. 

"  Do  not, rise,"  ^^^-id  Joseph,  coming  forward,  "I  have  intruded  my- 
self upon  you  without;  ceremony,  and  you  must  receive  me  in  like  man- 
.Mer."  \ 


KMPEKOK    OK  Al'STRTA. 

KaunKz  sank  back,  and  inclined  his  bond,  lie  had  not  the  power  to 
make  a  reply.  Joseph  then  motioned  to  the  valtt  to  withdraw,  and 
drew  a,  chair  to  the  Princels  side. 

There  was  a  short  silence,  and  the  Emperor  began  :  "  I  bring  you 
greetings  I'rom  niy  mother."  .   • 

Kauni^z  turned  and  gazed  at  the  Emperor  with  a  look  of  indescrib- 
able anguish.     "Her  last  greeting,"  said  he  almost  inaudihly. 

'vYoii  know  it  then?  Who  has  been  bold  enough  to  break  this  sad 
intelligence  fo  you  ?' 

'•  No  one,  your  Majesty.  For  three  days  I  have  received  no  bulletins 
— when  they  ceased  I  knew  that — Maria  Theresa  was  no  more.>" 

"Since  you  know  it  then,  my  friend,  I  am  relieved  from  a  painful 
task.  Yes — I  bring  you  the  last  greetings  of  a  Sovereign  who  loved  you 
well !" 

A  sigh — which  was  rather  a  sob  indicative  of  the  inner  throes  that 
v/erc  racking  the  statesman's  whole  being,  burst  from  his  heart.  His 
head  fell  upon  his  breast,  and  his  whole  body  trembled.  Joseph  com- 
prehended the  immensity  of  his  grief,  and  made  no  inefiectual  attempts 
to  (|uell  it.  . 

"  I  know,"  said  he,  "  that  you  grieve,  not  only  for  her  children,  but 
for  Austria," 

I  grieve  for  you — I  grieve  for  Austria — and  oh  !  I  grieve  for  myself," 
murmured  Kaunitz. 

"  You  have  been  a  faithful  friend  to  my  mother,"  continued  Joseph, 
"and  the  Empress  remembered  it  to  her  latest  hour.  She  bade  me  re- 
mind you  of  the  day  on  which  you  dedicated  your  life  to  Austria's  wel- 
fare. I|iie  told  me  to  say  to  you  that  the  departure  of  your  Empress 
had  not  released  you.  It  had  increased  your  responsibilities,  and  she 
expected  of  you  to  be  to  her  son  what  you  have  ever  been  to  her,  a  wise 
counsellor  and  a  cherished  friend.  Do  you  accept  the  charge  and  trans- 
fer the  rich  boon  of  your  services  to  me  ?" 

The  Prince  opened  his  lips,  but  not  a  sound  came  forth.  For  the  se- 
cond time  an  expression  of  agony  fluttered  over  his  face,  and  no  longer 
able  to  control  his  feelings,  he  burst  into  tears.  The  sight  so  moved  the 
Emperorthat  he,  too,  shed  tears  abundantly. 

Kaunitz  gradually  recovered  himself.  With  an  impatient  movement 
he  dashed  away  the  last  tears  that  had  gathered  in  his  eyes,  and  dried 
his  moist  cheeks  with  his  delicate  cambric  handkerchief.  He  was  him- 
self again. 

"  Pardon  me,  your  Majesty,"  said  he,  respectfully  inclining  his  head. 
"  You  see  how  grief  has  mastered  me.  I  have  behaved  like  a  child  who 
is  learning  his  first  difficult  lesson  of  self  control.  ,  Forgive  this  momen- 
tary weakness,  and  1  promise  that  you  shall  never  see  me  so  overwhelm- 
ed as  long  as  I  live." 

The  Emperor  with  an  affectionate  smile  pressed  the  old  statesman's 
hand.  "  1  have  nothing  to  forgive,  dear  Prince.  I  have  to  thank  you 
for  permitting  me  to  view  the  penetralia  of  a  great  inan's  heart.     And 


«  JOSEPH  THE  SECOND. 

still  more  have  I  to  thank  you  for  the  sincerity  with  which  you  have 
Joved  Maria  Theresa.  I  accept  it  as  a  pledge  of  your  obedience  to  hcf 
last  wishes.     May  1  not  ?" 

Kaunitz  looked  up  and  answered  with  firmness.  "  Bire,  this  is  the 
hour  of  unreserve,  -and  ]  will  speak  the  unvarnished  truth,  I  have  been 
expecting  the  last  greeting  of  my  Empress,  and  had  1  not  received  her 
commaud  to  serve  your  Majesty,  I  should  have  known  that  Austria  had 
need,  of  me  no  more,  and  ere  long  I  would  have  followed  my  peerless 
mistress  to  the  grave." 

"  How  !  you  would  have  laid  violent  hands  upon  your  life  ?" 

"  Oh,  no,  sire — I  would  simply  have  starved  to  death,  fori  never  could 
have  tasted  food  again,  had  I  once  obtained  the  conviction  that  I  had  be- 
come superannuated  and  useless.  Your  Majesty  has  saved  my  life,  for 
1  have  eaten  nothing  since  she — went;  and  now  since  I  must  still  live 
for  Austria,  let  me  implore  you  to  forget  what  you  have  seen  of  me  to- 
day. If  I  have  ever  served  Austria,  it  has  been  in  virtue  of  the  mask 
which  I  have  always  worn  over  my  heaft  and  features.  Let  me  resume 
it  then,  to  wear  .it  for  life.  Had  we- worn  our  political  mask  a  little 
longer,  Frederic  would  not  have  foiled  us  in  our  Bavarian  projects.  We 
must  beware  of  him,  old  though  he  be,  for  he  is  a  shrewd,  far-seeing  di- 
plomatist.'' 

"  Oh,  I  do  not  fear  his  prying  propensities  !"  cried  Joseph.  "  Let  him 
watch  our  proceedings — and  much  good  may  it  do  him.  He  will  see  a 
new  order  of  things  in  Austria.  Will  you  stand  by  me,  Prince,  and  lend 
rae  a  helping  hand  until  my  stately  edifice  is  complete?"  ' 

"Your  edifice  will  need  to  be  above  all  things,  upon  a  secure  founda- 
tion. It  must  be  fast  as  a  mountain  behind  which  we  can  entrer»(h  our- 
selves against  the  stormings  of  the  clergy  and  the  nobility." 

The  Emperor  gave  a  start  of  joyful  surprise.  "  You  have  guessed 
my  projects  of  reform,  and  I  have  not  yet  uttered  a  word  !" 

"  I  had  guessed  them  long  ago,  sire,  I  had  read  them  more  than' once 
upon  your  countenance  when  priests  and  nobles  were  by  ;  and  I  triumph- 
ed in  secret,  as  I  thought  of  the  day  that  was  to  come,  when  you  would 
be  the  sole  arbiter  of  their  destinies." 

" The  day  has  come !  It  has  come!"  exclaimed  Joseph  exultingly. 
"  Now  shall  begin  the  struggle  in  church  and  convent,  in  palace  and  cas- 
tle ;  and  we  shall  shake  oft'  ambitious  prelates  and  princes  as  the  lion 
does  the  insect  that  settles  upon  his  mane  !" 

"  Let  the  Lion  beware,  for  the  insect  bears  a  sting,  and  the  sting  bears 
poison." 

"  We  shall  rob  it  of  its  sting  before  we  rob  it  of  its  treasures.  And 
■whence  comes  the  sting  of  these  troublesome  gnats  ?  It  resides  in  the 
riches,  of  the  Church  and  the  privileges  of  the  nobles.  But  the  noble 
shall  bow  his  haughty  head  to  my  laws,  and  the  Church  shall  yield  up 
her  wealth.  The  lord  of  the  soil  shall  come  down  to  the  level  of  his 
serf,  and  by  the  eternal  heavens  above  rae,  the  priest  shall  be  made  as 
ho«ieless  as  Christ  and  his  Apostles  !" 


KMPEROR   OF  AUhTKlA. 

"  If  your  Majcsbj  cau  compass  this,  your  pcoplo  nill  adore  you  as  a 
second  Messiah." 

"  I  shall  do  it!  I  shall  free  luy  people  from  bond;ii;c,  and  if  I  am 
made  to  die  the  death  of  the.  cross,  1  shail  e.\ult  in  my  Diartyrdom,"  ex- 
Ciainicu  Joseph,  with  fiiVbhinj^  eyes.  "The  internnl  administration  of 
Austria  calls  for  reform.  The  empire  over  whieh  I  am  to  reign  niust 
be  governed  according  to  mij  principles.  EeMgious  prejudices,  fanati- 
cism, and  party  spirit  must  disappear,  and  the  influence  of  the  clergy,  so 
cherished  by  my  mother,  shall  cease  now  and  forever.  Monks  and  nuns 
shall  quit  their  idle  praying,  and  work  like  other  men  and  women,  and 
1  jihall  turn  the  whole  fraternity  of  contemplatives  into  a  body  f-'f  indus- 
trious burghers.'* 

"()h,  sire,"  exclaimed  Kaunitz,  "  your  words  afiright  me.     Bethink' 
you  that  you  throw  theJarand  of  revolt  among  a  numerous  and  influen- 
tial class." 

"  We  shall  strip  them  of  their  armor,  and  .so  they  shall  become  in- 
noxious." 

"  Gracious  heaven  1"   ejaculated  Kaunitz.     "  Your  Majesty  will " 

"Capture  the  convents  and  carry  off  the  booty." 

''B\jt  that  will  be  tantamount  to  a  declaraLi')u  of  war  against  Rome." 

"ICx.T'tly  what  I  propose  to  bring  about!  1  desire  to  teach  this  ser- 
vant of  "  <od  that  I  am  absolute  monarch  qf  my  own  dominions,  and  that 

his— f' 

"T^ue,  sire,  true,  but  be  cautious  and  go  v,arily  to  work."    . 

"I  hive  no  time  to  ten)porise,"  cried  Joseph.  "  What  is  to  be  done, 
shall  be  done  at  once;  so  much  the  more  quickly  that  this  question  of 
stripping  the  convents  is  not  only  one  of  principle  but  also  of  expedien- 
cy. Tiey  abound  in  objects  of  value  and  my  treasury  needs  replenish- 
ing. Ipe  state  debt  is  large  and  we  must  retrench.  I  shall  not,  like 
my  graoous  mother,  require  a  budget  of  six  millions ;  I  intend  to  restrict 
myself  to  the  expenditure  which  suffices  for  the  King  of  Prussia.  Of 
course  I  shall  not,  like  the  munificent  Mavia  Theresa,  dispense  ducats 
and  sraiUs  in  equal  profusion;  my  people  must  be  satisfied  with  a  greet- 
ing that  is  not  set  to  the  music  of  the  chink  of  gold.  Neither  shall  I, 
like  my  imperial  lady-mc>ther,  keep  two  thousand  horses  in  my  stables; 
moreoverthe  pension-list  shall  be  decreased,  let  the  retrenchment  fall 
upon  whoii  it  may.  But  all  this  will  not  suffice  to  strAighten  niy  finan- 
cial affiiirs;  I  need  several  millions  more,  and  as  they  Are  to  be  found  in 
church  ani  convent,  I  shall  seek  them  theie." 

Prince  taunitz  had  listened  to  this  bold  harangue  with  perfect  aston- 
ishment. Several  times  in  the  course  of  it,  he  had  nodded  his  head,  and 
more  than  oice  he  had  smiled.  "Sire,"  said  he,  "you  have  such  an  in- 
trepid spirit  that  my  scarred  old  heart  beats  responsive  to  the  call,  like 
an  aged  warnorse  that  neighs  at  the  trumpet's  note.  Be  it  so,  then — I 
shall  fight  a  your  side  like  a  faithful  champion,  happy,  if  during  the 

*Tliis  vrhole  paversation  is  historical.  The  expressions  are  those  of  the  Emperor,  See  Letters 
of  Joseph  9d,  p.  4- 


10  JOaKPH   THie   SEf'uNK. 

strife,  I  be  permitted  to  wai-d  off  from  my- Emperor's  head,  a  blow  from 
his  adversaries'  hauds.  Eeni.e^iiber  that  we  go  forth  to  fight  thous;inds; 
fur  the  people  are  with  the  ciergy,  and  they  will  cry  out  evea  moic  bit- 
terly ilian  they  did  at  the  expulsion  of  the  Jesuits." 

"  And  they  will  cease  to  cry,  as  they  did  on  that  occasion,"  exclaimed 
the  Emperor  with  a  merry  laugh.  "  Courage,  Kaunitz,  courage,  and  we 
shall  prcvailover  Rome,  and  all  monkdom,  and  when  we  shall  have 
utilized  their  treasure?,  the  people  will  return  to  their  senses,  and  ap- 
plaud the  deed."* 

"So  be  it  then,  your  Majesty.  I  will  help  j'ou  to  pluck  the  poison 
weeds,  and  sow  in  their  places,  good  secular  grain." 


CHAPTER  III. 

Tm:  BANKER  AND  HIS    DAUGHTER. 

The  beautiful  daughter  of  the  Jewish  banker,  was  alone  in  her  ipart- 
ments,  which  munificence  of  her  wealthy  father  had  rendered  almost  re- 
gal in  their  arrangements.  Rachel,  however,  was  so  accustomed  to 
magnificence  that  she  had  lost  all  appreciation  of  it.  She  scarcely  vouch- 
safed a  glance  to  her  inlaid  cabinets,  her  oriental  carpets,  her  crystal  lus- 
tres and  her  costly  paintings.  Even  her  own  transcendant  beaJty,  re-- 
fleeted  in  the  large  Venitian  mirrois  that  surrounded  her,  was  unheeded, 
as  she  reclined  in  simple  muslin  among  the  silken  cushions  of  a  Turkish 
divan. 

But  Rachel,  in  her  muslin,  was  lovely  beyond  all  power  of  .anguage 
to  describe.  Her  youth,  grace  and  beauty  were  ornaments  wth  which 
"  Nature's  own  cunning  hand  "  had  decked  her  from  her  birth  What 
diamond  ever  lit  up  Gojconda's'  mine  with  such  living  fire  as  flashed  from 
her  hazel  e3-e?  What  pearl  upon  its  ocean-bed  ever  glitter;d  with  a 
sheen  like  that  of  the  delicate  teeth  that  peeped  from  between  her  pout- 
ing, coral  lips "?  When  she  wandered,  in  her  vapory  whitJ  dresses, 
through  her  father's  princely  halls,  neither  picture,  nor  statue  ihere,  could 
compare  in  color  oi'  proportion  with  the  banker's  queenly  daughter,  her- 
self. 

She  lay  on  the  dark  silk  cushions  of  the  divan  like  a  swin  upon  the 
opaliine  waters  of  a  lake  at  sunset.  One  arm,  white  and  fini  as  Carrara 
marble,  supported  her  graceful  head,  while  in  her  right  hacJ,  she  held  an 
open  letter. 

*  Joseph's  own  worUs.    See  Letters,  dsc.,  P.  49. 


KMI'KKOn   OF  AI'SIKIA.  i  i 

"  Oil,  my  beloved,''  murmured  she,  "  vpu  hope  evcryfhinfj  from  the 
rTapianimity  of  the  Emperor !  Bn  in  what  V)l6Sf,ed  climf!  .was  ev*>.r  a 
Jewess  permitted  to  wed  witli  a  Christian  ?  The  Emperor  mav  remove 
the  shackles  of  our  national  bond;\;re  but  he  ran  never  lift  us  to  social 
equality  with  the  people  of  another  fiith.  There  is  nothinir  to  bridge 
the  gulf  that  yawns  between  my  l-^lnvod  and  me  I  It  would  kill  rov 
father  to  know  that  I  had  renounced  Jn-laism,  and  I  would  rather  die  than 
be  his  murderer  !  Oh.  my  father  !  Oh,  my  lovef !  My  heart  lies  be- 
tween you,  and  yet  J  may  not  love  you  both  !  But  which  must  I  sacri- 
fice to  the  other  V' 

She  paused  .ind  raised  her  eyes  imploringly  to  heaven.  Her  cheeks 
flushed,  her  bosom  heaved,  and  no  longer  able  to  restrain  her  agitation, 
she  sprang  from  the  divan,  and  light  as  a  gazelle,  crossed  the  room,  and 
threw  open  the  window. 

"  No,  my  lover,"'  said  she,  "  no,  1  cannot  renounce  you.  A  woman 
must  leave  father  and  mother,  to  follow  him  who  reigns  over  her  heart ! 
J  will  leave  all  things,  then,  for  you  my  Gunthcr  !"  And  she  pressed 
his  letter  to  ner  lips  ;  then  folding  it,  she  hid  it  in  her  bosom. 

A  knock  at  the  door  caused  her  to  start  slightly,  and  before  she  had 
time  to  speak  the  Jewish  banker  entered  the  room. 

"  My  dear  father  !"  exclaimed  Rachel  joyfully,  flying  to  him  and  put- 
ting her  arjns  around  his  tall  athletic  form. 

Eskcles  Flies  stroked  her  dark, hair,  and  pressed  a  kiss  upon  her  brow. 
"1  have  not  seen  yon  for  two  days,  father,"  said  Rachel,  reproachfully. 

"  I  have  been  absent  inspecting  my  new  factories  at  Brunn,  my  daugh- 
ter." 

"And  you  went  without  a  word  of  adieu  to  me!" 

Adi'^'u  is  a  sorrowful  word,  my  child,  and  I  speak  it  reluctantly;  but 
a  return  home  is  joy  unspeakable,  and  you  see  that  my  first  visit  is  to 
you,  dear  child.     To-day  I  come  as  a  messenger  of  good  tidings." 

Rachel  raised  her  head  and  a  flush  of  expectation  rose  to  her  face. 

"  Do  the  good  tidings  concern  us  both  ?"  asked  she. 

"Not  only  ourselves,  but  our  whole  people.  Look  at  me  Rachel,  and 
tell  me  wherein  J  have  changed  since  last  we  met." 

Rachel  stepped  back  and  contemplated  her  father  with  an  afTectionate 
smile.     "I  see  the  same  tall  figure,  the  same  energetic,  manly  features, 

the  same  dear  smile,  and   the  same no,  not  quite  the  same  dress. 

You  have  laid  aside  the  yellow  badge  of  inferiority  that  the  Jew  wears' 
upon  h?s  arm." 

"The  Emperor  has  freed  us  from  this  humiliation,  Rachel.  This 
burthen  of  a  thousand  years,  ha'^'Joseph  lifted  from  our  hearts,  and  un- 
der his  reign,  we  are  to  enjoy  the  rights  of  men  and  Austrians  !" 

"  The  Emperor  is  a  great  and  magnanimous  Prince  !"  exclaimed  Ra- 
chel. 

"  We  have  been  trampled  so  long  under  foot,"  said  the  banker  scorn- 
fully, "  that  the  smallest  concession  seems  magnanimity.  But  of  what 
avail  will  be  the  absence  of  the  b?dge  of  shame  ?     It  will  not  change  the 


12  JOSKPII  THE  SKrOND. 

peculiarity^  of  feature  which  marks  U3  among  men,  and  betrays  us  to  the 
Christian's  hate."  '' 

'■  May  onr  nation's  type  be  ever  written  upoti  our  faces,"  exclaimed 
Rachel.  "  The  Emperor  will  protect  us  from  the  little  persecutions  of 
yociety." 

••  He  will  have  little  time  to  think  of  us,  he  will  have  enough  to  do  to 
protect  himself  from  his  own  enemies.  Pie  has  decreed  the  dispersion 
of  the  conventual  orders,  and  as  he  has  refused  to  yield  up  the  goods  of 
the  church,  his  subjects  are  becoming  alienated  from  a  man  who  has  no 
regard  for  the  request  of  the  Pope.  Moreover,  he  has  proclaimed  uni- 
versal toleration." 

"  And  has  he  included  us  among  the  enfranchised,  dear  father?" 

"  Yes,  my  child,  even  we  are  to  be  tolerated.  We  are  also  to  be  per- 
mitted to  rent  estates,  and  to  leavn  trades.  Mark  me — not  to  buy  es- 
tates, but  to  rent  them  ;  we  are  not  yet  permitted  to  be  landed  pro- 
prietors."* 

But  they  cannot  prevent  the  Jew  from  accumulating  gold — 'yellow, 
shining  gold,'  and  riches  are  our  revenge  upon  Christendom,  tor  the  many- 
humiliations  we  have  endured  at  its  pious  hands.  They  Ivave -withheld 
froni  us  titles,  orders,  auii  rank,  but  they  cannot  withhold  money.  The 
linger  of  the  Jew  is  a  magnet,  and  when  he  points  it,  the  Christian  ducats 
fly  into  his  hand.  Oh,  Rachel,  1  look  forward  to  the  day  when  the  Jews 
shall  monopolise  the  wealth  of  the  world — when  they  shall  be  called  to 
the  councils  of  Kings  and  Emperors,  and  furnish  to  their  oppressors  the 
means  of  reddening  the  earth  with  one  another's  blood  !  We  shall  pay 
them  to  slaughter  one  another,  Rachel,  and  that  shall  be  our  glorious  re- 
venge !" 

"  My  dear,  dear  fcther,"  interposed  Rachel,  "what  has  come  over  you 
that  you  should  speak  such  resentful  words  %  Revenge  is  unworthy  of 
the  noble  sons  of  Israel ;  leave  it  to  the  Christian  whose  words  are  love 
while  his  deeds  are  hate. ' 

"  His  words  to  the  Jew  are  as  insolent  as  his  deeds  are  wicked.  But 
I  know  very  well  how  to  exasperate  and  humble  the  Christians.  I  do  it 
by  means  of  my  rich  dwelling  and  my  costly  equipages.  I  do  it  by  in- 
viting them  to  come  and  see  how  for  more  sumptuously  f  live  than  they. 
The  tight  of  my  luxuries  blackens  their  hearts  with  envy  ;  but  most  of 
all  they  envy  the  Jewish  banker,  that  his  daughter  so  far  outshines  in 
beauty  their  Gentile  women !" 

"  Dear  father,"  said  Rachel  coloring,  "  you  go  to  extremes  in  praise 
as  in  blame.  You  exaggerate  the  defects  of  the  Christian,  and  the  at- 
tractions of  your  daughter." 

Her  father  drew  her  graceful  head  to  him,  and  nestled  it  upon  his 
breast.  "  No,  mv  child,~no,  I  do  not  exaggerate  your  beauty.  It  is  not 
I  alone,  but  all  "Vienna,  that  is  in  raptures  with  your  incomparable  loveli- 
ness." 

"  Hush,  dear  fether.  '  Vv'ould  you  see  mie  vain^^nd  heartless  *?" 

•  Kamshorn,  Joseph  2d,  P.  259, 


EMPEftOK  OF  AUSTRIA. 

•'  I  would  see  you  appreciate  your  beauty,  and  make  use  of  it." 

"  Make  use  of  it  ?     How?" 

"  To  help  your  father  in  his  projects  of  vengeacce.  You  cannot  con- 
ceive how  exultant  1  am  when  I  see  you  surrounded  by  hosts  of  Chris- 
tian nobles,  all  doing  homage  to  your  bejiu^y  and  your  father's  millions. 
Encourage  them,  Kache!,  that  they  may  bccomt'  intoxicated  with  love 
and  that  on  the  day  whert  they  ask  me  for  my  daughter's  hand.  I  mav 
tell  them  ihat  my  daughter  is  a  Jewess,  aud  can  never  be  the  wife  of  a 
Christian !" 

Eachel  made  no  reply  :  her  head  still  rested  upon  her  father's  bosom 
and  he  could  not  see  that  tears  were  falling  in  showers  from  her  eyes. 
But  he  felt  her  sobs,  and  guessing  that  something  was  grieving  her,  he 
drew  her  gently  to  a  seat. 

"  Dear,  dear  child,"  cried  he  anxiously,  "  tell  me  why  you  weep." 

"  I  weep  because  I  see  that  my  father  loves  revenge  for  more  thsn 
his  only  child,  and  that  he  is  willing  to  peril  her  soul  by  defiling  it  with 
wicked  coquetry.  Now  I  understand  why  it  is  that  such  a  profligate  as 
Count  Podstadsky  has  been  suffered  to  pollute  our  home  by  his  visits !" 

The  banker's  face  grew  bright.  ^'^  Then,  Rachel,  you  do  not  love  him," 
said  he,  pressing  his  daughter  to  his  heart. 

"  Love  him  !"  exclaimed  Rachel  with  a  shudder,  "love  a  man  who 
has  neither  mind  rtor  heart !"' 

"  And  I  was  so  silly  as  to  fear  that  your  heart  had  strayed  from  its 
duty,  my  child,  and  that,  the  tears  which  you  are  shedding  were  for  him  J 
But  1  breathe  again,  and  can  exult  once  more  in  the  knowledge  of  his 
love  for  you." 

"  No,  father,"  said  Kachel,  "  he  does  not  love  me.  He  loves  nothing 
except  himself;  but  he  wearies  me  with  his  importunities." 

"  What  has  he  done  to  you,  my  daughter?" 

"  During  your  absence  he  came  three  times  to  see  me.  As  I  refused 
to  spe  him,  he  had  resort  to  writing,  and  sent  me  a  note  requesting  a 
private  interview.     Read  it  for  yourself,  father.     It  lies  on  the  table. 

The  banker  read  and  his  eyes  flashed  with  anger.  "  Unmannerly 
wretch  !"  exclaimed  he,  "  to  use  such  language  to  my  daughter  !  But 
all  Vienna  shall  know  how  wo  scorn  him  !  Answer  his  note  favorably, 
Rachel,  but  let  the  hour  of  your  interview  be  at  midday,  for  I  wish  no 
one  to  suppose  that  my  daughter  receives  Christians  by  stealth." 

"I  will  obey  you,  father,"  replied  Rachel  with  a  sigh,  "but  I  would 
be  better  satisfied  to  thrust  him,  without  further  ceremony,  from  the 
door.  I  cairaot  write  to  him,  however,  that  would  be  a  compromise  of 
ray  own  honor ;  but  I  will  send  him  a  verbal  message  by  my  own  faith- 
ful old  nurse.  She  knows  me  too  well  to  suspect  me  of  clandestine  in- 
tercourse with  a  wretch  like  Podstadsky." 

"  Why  not  send  the  girl  who  delivered  his  letter  ?" 

"  Because  1  discharged  her  on  the  spot  for  her  indiscretion." 

"  Bravely  done,  my  precious  child.  You  are  as  wise  and  as  chaste  as 
Israel's  beauteous  daughters  have  ever  been.     I  shall  reward  you  for 


[4  '  .TOSEPII   THE  SECOND. 

despising  the  Christian  Count.     But  I  must  go.     I   must  go  to  double 
my  millions  and  lay  them  all  at  m.y  Rachel's  feet." 

He  kissed  his  daughter's  forehead,  aud  rose  fiorn  the  divan.  But  as 
he  reached  the  door,  he  turj^ed  carelessly, 

"  Has  the  Emperor's  private  Secretary  visited  you  of  late?" 

"  He  was  here  yesterday,"  said  Rachel  bluishing. 

'•Did  you  receive  him?" 

"Yes,  dear  father,  for  you  yourself  presented  him  here." 

Eskeles  Flies  was  silent  for  a  while.  "  And  yet,"  resumed  he,  "  I 
believe  that  1  was  wrong  to  invite  him  hither.  In  your  unconscious 
modesty,  you  have  not  perceived,  my  child,  that  Giinther  loves  you  with 
all  the  fervor  of  a  true  and  honest  heart.  He  may  have  indulged  the 
thouirht  that  I  would  bestow  my  daughter  upon  a  poor  little  imperial 
Secretary,  whose  brother  enjoys  the  privilege  of  blacking  the  Emperor's 
boots,  Although  I  laugh  at  ^iis  presumption,  I  pity  his  infatuation,  for 
he  is  an  excellent  young  man.  Be  careful — or  rather,  receive  him  no 
longer.  You  see,  Rachel,  that  tow^^rds  an  estimable  mar>,  1  do  not  en- 
couva<^e  coquettry  ;  on  the  contrary^'t  plead  for  poor  Giinther,  He  must 
not  be  exposed  to  a  disappointment.  It  is  understood,  then,  that  you 
decline  his  visits." 

He  sniiled  kindly  upon  his  daughter,  and  left  the -room. 

Rachel  looked  after  him  with  lips  half  parted,  and  face  as  pale  as  mar- 
ble. She  stood  motionless  until  the  sound  of  her  father's  footsteps  had 
died  away ;  then  sinking  upon  her  knees,  she  buried  her  face  in  her 
hands  aud  cried  out  in  accents  of  despair, 

"  Oh,  my  God !     I  am  to  see  him  no  more  !" 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE  COUNTESS  BAILLOU. 

The  beautiful  Countess  Baillou  was  about  to  give  a  ball.  She  had  in- 
vited all  the  haul  ion  of  Vienna,  and  they  had  accepted  the  invitations. 
And  the  Countess  had  been  but  four  weeks  in  the  Austrian  capital ;  she 
had  no  relations  there  and  no  one  of  the  aristocracy  had  ever  heard  her 
name  before.  But  she  had  come  to  Vienna  provided  with  letters  of  in- 
troduction and  money ;  and  these  two  keys  had  opened  the  salons  of  the 
fashionables  to  the  beautiful  stranger. 

Her  splendid  equipage  had  been  seen  in  the  parks,  and  her  magnifi. 
cent  diamonds  at  the  theatre.  All  the  young  men  of  fashion  had  direc- 
ted their  lorgnettes  towards  her  box,  admiring  not  only  her  extraordinary 


EMPEROR    OF  AVSTRIA.  Jo 

benuty,  but  the  grace  and  abandon  of  her  attitude,  as  she  leaned  back  in 
her  velvet  .arm-chair.  She  had  not  lonij  been  seated  when  the  door  of 
the  box  opened,  and  a  young  man  entered  whom  the  lady  greeted  with 
a  cordial  smile.  Every  one  knevr  the  visiter  to  be  Count  Podstadsky- 
Liechtenstein,  the  richest,  haughtiest,  and  handsomct  cavalier  in  all 
Vienna.  Podstadsky  was  the  son  of  a  distinguished  nobleman.  hi"h  in 
the  Emperor's  favor  ;  he  had  just  returned  from  his  travels,  and  all  the 
Viennese  gallants  were  eager  to  imitate  him  in  everything.  To  see  him 
in  the  box  of  the  beautiful  stranger  was  to  fire  the  ambition  of  6very  man 
to  know  her;  the  more  so  that  the  haughty  Podstadsky,' instead  of  ac- 
cepting a  scat,  was  standing  in  an  attitude  of  profound  respect  before 
her,  which  he  maintained  until  he  took  his  leave. 

Podstadsky  of  course  was  assailed  with  questions  in  relation  to  the 
Countess.  He  had  known  her  in  Italy  as  the  wife  of  a  wealthy  old  no- 
bleman to  whom  her  parents  hnd  sacrificed  her  before  she  was  eighteen. 
She  had  been  sincerely  admired  in  Rome,  not  only  on  account  of  her 
beauty,  but  of  her  wit,  goodness  and  above  all  of  her  admirable  behavior 
towards  her  repulsive  old  husband.  Her  conduct  had  been  so  exempla- 
ry  that  she  had  been  called  '•  La.  Coniessa  del  cuore  freddo.^'*  Podstads- 
ky confessed  that  even  ho  had  beei  desperately  in  love  with  her,  but 
finding  her  unapproachable,  had  left  Rome  in  despair.  What  then  was 
his  delight  when  a  few  moments  ago,  he  had  learned  from  her  own  lips 
that  she  was  a  widow,  and  had  come  to  spend  a  season  in  Vienna. 

The  consequence  of  this  recital  was  that  Podstadsky's  young  acquaint- 
ances were  clamorous  for  presentation  to  La  Coniessa.  Jle  stepped  in 
her  box  to  inform  the  lady  of  their  wishes,  but  soon  retuned  with  the 
unwelcome  tidings  that  the  Countess  would  receive  no  male  visitor  un- 
less he  came  in  the  company  of  a  lady.  This  of  course  increased  the 
longing  of  the  gallants,  ten-fold,  and  the  next  day  when  her  equipage 
was  seen  coming  in  the  park,  it  was  followed  by  many  an  eager  horse- 
man, jealous  beyond  expression  of  Count  Podstadsky  who  was  admitted 
to  the  blessed  privilege  of  riding  near  the  lady  of  their  thoughts. 

Some  days  later,  the  young  Countess  left  her  cards  and  letters  of  in- 
troduction, and  as  they  were  from  Orsinis,  Colonnas  and  other  grandees 
of  Rome,  her  hotel  was  crowded  vnth  elegant  eqjaipages,  and  she  was 
admitted  into  the  charmed  circles  of  the  first  society  in  Vienna. 

As  for  the  furniture  of  her  hotel,  it  surpassed  anything  in  the  citv. 

Her  orders  of  every  kind  had  been  princely.  Her  sofas  and  chairs 
were  of  embroidered  satin,  her  tables  of  inlaid  wood  and  verde  antique, 
her  carpets  the  richest  Persian,  her  paintings  and  statuary  of  rarest  value. 
She  had  bespoken  several  services  of  gold,  and  jewellers  were  revelling 
in  her  orders  for  parures  such  as  Princesses  would  have  been  proud  to 
possess. 

One  quality  which  the  Countess  Baillou  possessed,  gave  her  unbound- 
ed popularity  with  those  whom  she  patronised.  Her  purchases  were  all 
promptly  paid  in  new  Austrian  bank-notes,  and  tradesman,  vied  with 

*  The  Oount^ss  ^th  the  cold  heart. 


16       ■  JOSEPH  THE  SECOND. 

tradesman  as  to  who  should  have  the  privilege  of  her  custom. 

Finally,  her  palace  was  iLirnished,  and  the  day  of  her  ball  had  dawn- 
ed.    Every  invitation  hiid  been  accepted  ;  for  the  world  was  curious  to 
see  the  splendors  of  her  fairy  abode,  and  to  see  the  fairy   emerge  from 
the  retreat  where  she  had  buried  herself  up  to  the  date  of  this  grand  re-  " 
ception. 

And  now  the  loug  sidles  were  lit  up,  and  room  after  room  was  one 
blazing  isea  of  light,  gold,  crystal,  bronze  and  marble.  Here  and  there 
were  charmiiig  boudoirs,  where  those  who  were  weary  of  splendor,  could 
retire  to  Converse  in  rhe  soft,  subdued  light  that  was  shed  upon  them 
from  veiled  lamps.  The  whole  was  closed  by  magnificent  conservato- 
ries, where  flourished  the  flowers  aad  frnits  of  every  cllrae,  where  tropi- 
cal birds  were  seen  fluttering  among  the  branches  of  the  orange  tree,  or 
dipping  their  beaks  in  the  ciasbio  bfiisins  of  the  fountains  that  were  gent- 
ly plashing  there.  ' 

The  Countess  had  just  emerged  from  her  dressing-room.  Her  dress 
for  the  evening,  was  of  white  satin,  and  the  coronal  of  brilliants  which 
fliashed  amoiig  the  braids  of  her  black  hair,  was  worthy  to  be  the  bridal- 
diadem  of  a  Queen.  The  Countess  Baillou  was  tall  and  stately  in  her 
beauty  ;  hers  was  the  tascinatio^  "^  f  the  dark-eyed  Italian,  united  to  the 
Ma'esity  of  a  daughter  of  ancient  Rome,  and  the  union  was  irresistible." 
Her  throat  was  blender,  her  head  s  all,  and  her  classic  oval  face  was  of- 
n  pale,  pearly  hue,  without  a  tinge  of  the  rose,  which  while  it  lends  ani- 
mation to  a  woman's  face,  detracts  from  the  camelia-like  purity  of  ger?- 
uine  patrician  beauty. 

The  Countess  glided  across  the  room,  and  throwing  back  her  head  took 
a  critical  survey  of  her  apartments.  They  presented  a  combination  of 
taste  with  magnificence,  and.  their  mistress  was  satisfied. 

She  turned  to  her  steward  who  was  breathlessly  awaiting  the  result  of 
his  lady's  inspection.  "  Not  bad,"  said  she,  in  a  rich,  melodious  voice. 
"  I  am  quite  pleased  with  your  labors." 

"  Will  my  lady  walk  through  the  rooms  to  see  the  conservatories  ?" 
asked  the  steward. 

"  Why  so  ■?"  asked  she  with  indifference.  "  I  have  no  doubt  that  all 
is  as  it  should  be  •,  I  am  too  weary  of  splendor  to  take  much  interest  in 
it.  See,  however,  that  the  tables  are'  spread  with  every  Inxury  that  can 
tempt  the  palates  of  my  guests." 

"  I  hope,  your  ladyship  will  be  satisfied.  The  two  cooks  from  Paris 
profess,  the  one  to  have  learned  his  art  under  the  Prince  de  Soubise,  the 
other  to  have  received  his  receipts  for  pastry  from  the  Duke  de  Riche- 
lieu." ' 

"  Let  them  both  do  their  besK"  said  the  Countess  languidly, "  and  re- 
member that  expense  is  to  be  no  obstacle  to  the  carrying  out  of  my  or- 
ders." 

With  these  words,  she  dismissed  the  steward,  and  sank  back  into  the 
recesses  of  an  arm-chair.  But  when  he  had  fairly  left,  and  she  knew  that 
she  was  alone,  her  aspect  changed.     She  rose  quickly  from  the  chair,  and 


EMPEROR   OF  ACSTRIA.  17 

walked  through  her  rooms,  surveying  their  splendor  vith  visible  exulta- 
tion. 

How  peerless  was  her  beauty  as  she  swept  through  those  empty 
rooms,  her  diamonds  reflected  fmm  mirror  to  mirror,  her  rich  dress  tali- 
ing  in  heavy  folds  about  \ie.T  perfect  form  !  He  who  had  seen  her  there 
would  have  taken  her  for  the  Princess  who  had  just  awakened  from  her 
hundred  years'  sleep,  looking  around  her  palatial  solitude  to  see  who  it 
was  that  had  broken  the  spell  of  her  enchanted  trance.  Her  face  was  lit 
up  with  triumph  as  s^lie  wtnt,  and  at  times  when  something  of  rare  value 
met  her  eyes,  she  laughed  aloud  in  the  ecstacy  of  her  pride  ! 

Suddenly  the  stillness  was  broken  by  the.  sound  of  a  man's  footstep. 
The  laugh  of  the  Countess  ceased,  and  bhe  drew  on  her  mask  of  indiffer- 
ence. She  turned  slowly  around,  and  dropped  it  again — for  the  intruder 
was  Count  Podstadsky. 

Just  in  the  midst  of  the  dancing-room,  under  the  blaze  of  a  crystal 
chandelier  they  met.  The  Countess  gave  him  her  hand,  and  he  grasped 
it  in  his  own,  looking  earnestly  at  her  fair,  bewitching  face.  She  return- 
ed  the  glance  with  her  large  flashing  eyes,  and  so  they  stood  for  a  time 
together.     There  was  a  secret  between  those  two. 

The  Countess  spoke-first.  Her  mouth  related  into  a  scornful  smile. 
"  Count  Carl  Von  Podstadsky-Liea. '.instein,"  said  she,  "  you  are  a  man, 
and  yet  you  tremble."  v 

"  Yes,  Arabella,  I  tremble,  bu^  not  for  me.  As  I  look  upon  you,  in 
the  fullness  of  your  incomparable  oeauty,  my  blood  freezes  with  terror, 
And  a  voice  v•l.l^J)crs  to  me,  '  Have  mercy  on  this  woman  whose  beauty 
is  so  akin  to  that  of  angels  !  You  both  stand  upon  the  edge  of  a  preci- 
pice; shield  her  at  least  from  the  ruin  which  threatens  you  !'" 

The  Countess  raised  her  snowy  shoulders.  "  German  sentimentality," 
said  she.  "If  you  mix  sentiment  with  your  cards,  vce.  shall  lose  the 
game,  Co.unt  Podstadsky.  Hear,  then,  what  I  have  to  say  to  you.  It  is 
true  that  we  stand  upon  the  brow  of  a  precipice  ;  but  we  must  contem- 
plate it  fearlessly,  and  so  we  shall  grow  accustomed  to  our  danger,  and 
learn  to  escape  it.  Why  do  you  wish  to  rescue  me,  Carl  ?  1  do  not 
wish  to  be  rescued.  I  like  the  giddy  brink,  and  look  down  with  defi- 
ance into  the  abyss  that  blackens  the  future  before  me." 

"  Give  me  some  of  your  courage,"  sighed  the  Count.  *'  Let  me  drink 
confidence  from  the  depths  of  your  fearless,  flashing  eyes,  my  angel," 

''  Angel !"  said  Arabella  with  a  mocking  laugh.  "If  so,  at  least  call 
me  your  fallen  angel ;  for  when  I  took  the  unfathomable  leap  which 
leads  from  innocence  to  guilt,  your  arms  were  outstretched  to  receive 
me.  But  pshaw  !  what  bootless  retrospection ! — I  am  here,  Carl,  true 
as  steel ;  ready  to  stand  or  fall  at  your  side.  Feel  my  hand,  it  is  warm 
— feel  my  pulse,  it  beats  as  evenly  as  though  I  had  never  slept  a  night 
out  of  Eden." 

"  You  are  a  heroine,  Arabella.     The  magnificence  around  us  affrights 

my  cowardly   soul  •  while  you surely  I  heard  your  s^very  laugh 

when  I  entered  this  room  a  while  ago." 

2  . 


18  JOSEPH  THE  SECOND. 

"  To  be  sure  you  did,  faiut-hearted  knight  of  the  card  table !  I  laugh- 
ed for  joy  when  I  thought  of  my  former  jnisery  and  compared  it  with 
iny  present  splendor ;  the  more  so,  that  I  am  the  bold  architect  M'ho 
raised  the  editice  of  my  owu  fortune.  We  need  not  he  grateful  to  hea- 
ven for  our  luck,  Ciirl,  for  we  are  not  in  favor  .with  the  celestial  aristo- 
cracy ;  we  have  no  one  to  thank  ihv  our  blessings  but  ourselves." 

"And  will  have  no  one  to  thank  but  ourselves  when  ruin  overtakes  us." 

"Possibly,"  said  Arabella,  with  a  shrug.  "But  remember  that  we 
have  already  been  shipwrecked,  and  have  not  only  saved  ourselves  but 
have  brought  glorious  spoils  with  us  to  shore.  So  away  with  your  mis- 
givings ;  they  do  not  become  the  career  yon  have  chosen." 

''  Iti,ij;ht,  Arabella,  right. — They  do  not  indeed!  But  promise  me  that 
I  shall  always  have  vou  at  my  side  to  share  my  fate,  whatever  it  bring 
forth." 

"  J  promise,"  said  she,  raising  her  starry  eyes  to  his,  and  clasping  with 
her  small  firm  hand  his  cold  and  clammy  fingers.  "  I  promise,  by  the 
memory  of  Rome,  and  the  dark  rolling  waters  of  the  Tiber,  from  which 
you  rescued  me  that  night.  And  now  let  us  pledge  each  other  in  a 
draught  from  the  depths  of  the  Styx. — Look  around  you,  Carl,  and  real- 
ize that  all  this  magnificence  is  ours,  and  that  tonight  I  play  the  hostess 
to  the  proud  aristocracy  of  Vienna.  But  one  question  before  the  curtain 
lises — how  goes  the  affair  with  the  banker's  lovely  Rachel'?" 

"  Gloriously  ! — She  loves  me,  for  she  has  consented  to  receive  me  day- 
after  to-morrow,  during  her  father's  absence." 

*'  Go,  then,  and  the  blessings  of  your  fallen  angel  go  with  you  !  Play 
your  game  cautiously,  and  let  us  hear  the  chink  of  Herr  Eskeles  Flies' 
gold  near  the  rustling  of  our  fragile  bank-notes.  And  now  go.  Return 
in  half  an  hour,  that  I  may  receive  you  in  presence  of  our  fastidious 
guests.  They  might  not  approve  of  this  tete-a-tete,  for  you  are  said  to 
be  a  sad  profligate,  Carl !" 

She  kissed  her  little  jewelled  hand,  and  while  her  Carl  disappeared 
through  a  secret  door  on  one  side  of  the  room,  she  glided  forward  with 
grace  and  elegance  inimitable,  to  receive  the  high-born  ladies  who  were 
just  then  passing  the  portals  of  her  princely  abode. 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE  EXPULSION  OF  THE   CLARISSERINES. 

The  stroke  so  long  apprehended  by  the  church  had  fallen.     Joseph 
had  thrown  down  the  gauntlet,  and  had  dealt  his  first  blow  to  the  chair 


EMPKROi;   OK   AUSTRIA.  ]'.} 

'of  St.  Peter.  This  blow  was  directed  towards  the  chief  pastors  of  tho 
Austrian  Church,  the  Bibhops.  Their  alle^jiance,  spiritual  as  well  as 
temporal,  was  due  to  the  Emperor  alone,  and  no  order  emanating  from 
Tlonie  could  take  ellect  without  first  being  submitted  for  his  approval. 
The  Bishops  were  to  be  re-instated  in  their  ancient  rights,  and  they  alom-. 
were  to  grant  mnrriage-dispen?=ations  and  impose  penances. 

J3ut  this  was  only  one  step  in  the  new  ''  Reformation  "  of  the  Empe- 
ror Joseph.  He  dissociated  all  spiritual  communities  whatever,  from 
connection  with  foreign  Superiors,  and  freed  them  from  all  dependence 
upon  them.  They  were  to  receive  their  orders  from  native  bishops 
•alone,  and  these  in  their  turn  were  to  promulgate  no  spiritual  edict  with- 
out the  approbation  and  permission  of  the  reigning  Sovereign  of 
Austria. 

These  ordinances  did  away. with  the  influence  of  the  head  of  the  church 
in  Austria,  but  they  did  not  sufficiently  destroy  that  of  the  clergy  over 
their  flockfe.  This,  too,  must  be  annihilated  ;  and  now  everything  was 
ready  for  the  great  final  blow  which  was  to  crush  to  the  earth  every  ves- 
tige of  church  influence  within  the.  dominions  of  Joseph  the  Second. 
This  last  stroke  was  the  dispersion  of  the  religious  communities.  Monks 
and  nuns  should  be  forced  to  work  with  the  people.  They  v/ereno  long- 
er to  be  permitted  to  devote  their  lives  to  solitary  prayer,  and  every 
contemplative  order  was  suppressed. 

The  cry  of  horror  which  issued  from  the  convents  was  echoed  through- 
out the  landj  from  palace  to  hovel.  The  people  were  more  than  indig- 
nant— they  were  terror-stricken  ;  for  the  Emperor"  was  not  only  an  un- 
believer himself,  he  was  forcing  his  people  to  unbelief.  The  very  exis- 
tence of  religion,  said  they,  was  threatened  by  his  tyranny  and  impiety  ! 

Joseph  heard  all  this  and  laughed  it  to  scorn.  "  When  the  priests 
■cease  their  howls,"  said  he,  "  the  people,  too,  will  stop  ;  and  they  will 
thank  me  lor  what  I  am  doing."  When  they  see  that  the  heavens  have 
not  fallen  because  a  set  of  silly  nuns  arc  startled  from  their  nests,  they 
will  come  to  their  senses,  and  perceive  that  I  have  freed  them  from  a 
load  of  religious  prejudices. 

But  the  people  were  not  of  the  same  opinion.  They  hated  the  impe- 
rial free-thinker,  who  with  his  brutal  hands,  was  thrusting  out  helpless 
"vyo.raen  from  their  homes,  and  was  robbing  the  very  altars  of  their  sacred 
vessels,  to  convert  them  into  money  for  his  own  profane  uses. 

All  this,  however,  did  not  prevent  the  execution  of  the  order  for  the 
expulsion  of  the  nuns.  In  spite  of  priests  and  people,  the  decree  was 
carried  out  on  the  12th  of  January,  of  the  year  1782.  A  multitude  had 
assembled  before  the  convent  of  the  Clarisserines,  whence  the  sisters  were 
about  to  be  expelled,  and  where  the  sacred  vessels,  and  vestments,  ap- 
pertaining to  the  altars,  were  to  be  exposed  for  sale  at  auction  ! 

Thousands  of  men  were  there,  with  anxious  looks  fixed  upon  the  gates 
of  the  convent  before  which  the  deputies  of  the  Emperor,  in  full  uniform, 
stood  awaiting  the  key  which  the  Prioress  was  about  to  deliver  into  their 
hands.     Not  far  off.,  the  public  auctioneers  were  seated  at  a  table  with 


20  JOSEPH  THE  SECOND. 

writing-materials,  and  around  them  swarmed  a  crowd  of  Jewish  trades- 
men eagerly  awaiting  the  sale ! 

"  See  them,"  said  a  priest  to  the  multitude,  "  see  those  hungry  Jews, 
hovering  like  vultures,  over  the  treasures  of  the  cliurch  !  They  will  drink 
from  the  chalice  that  has  held  the  blood  of  the  Lord,  and  the  Pix  which 
has  contained  his  body,  they  will  convert  into  coin!  Alas  !  Alas!  The 
Emperor  who  has  enfranchised  the  Jew,  has  disfranchised  the  Christian  I 
(Inhappy  servants  of  the  most  High  !  Ye  are  driven  from  His  temple 
ihat  usurers  and  extortioners  may  buy  and  sell,  where  once  naught  was 
to  be  heard  but  praise  and  worship  of  Jehovah  !" 

The  people  had  come  nearer  to  listen,  and  when  the  priest  ceased,  their 
faces  grew  dark  and  sullen,  and  their  low  mutterings  were  heard  like 
the  distant  murmurings  of  a  coming  storm,  while  many  a  hand  was 
clenched  at  the  Jews,  who  were  laughing  and  chatting  together,  greatly 
enjoying  the  scene. 

"  We  will  not  permit  it,  father,"  cried  a  young  burgher,  "  we  will  not 
allow  the  sacred  vessels  to  be  bought  and  sold  !" 

"  No — we  will  not  allow  it,"  echoed  the  people. 

"  You  cannot  prevent  it,"  replied  the  priest,  "  for  the  Emperor  is  ab- 
solute master  here.  Neither  can  you  prevent  the  expulsion  of  the  pious 
Clarisserines  from  the  home  which  was  purchased  for  them  with  the 
funds  of  the  church.  Well ! — Let  us  be  patient.  If  the  Lord  of  Heav- 
en and  Earth  can  suffer  it— 'so  can  we — But  see — they  come — the  vic- 
tims of  an  unbelievyig  Sovereign'!" 

And  the  priest  pointed  to  the  convent-gates,  through  which  the  pro- 
cession had  begun  to  pass.  At  their  head,  came  the  Prioress  in  the 
white  garb  of  her  order,  her  head  enveloped  in  a  long  veil,  her  face  pale 
and  convulsed  with  suffering,  and  her  hands  which  held  a  golden  crucifix, 
tightly  clasped  over  her  breast.  Following  her  in  pairs,  catne  the  nuns 
— nrst  those  who  had  grown  gray  in  the  service  of  the  Lord,  then  the 
younger  ones,  and  finally  the  novices.  The  people  Iqoked  w^ith  heartfelt 
sympathy  at  the  long,  sad  procession  which  silent  as  spectres  wound 
through  the  grounds  of  the  home  which  they  were  leaving  forever. 

The  imperial  commissioners  gave  the  sign  to  halt,  while  their  eyes 
blinded  by  tears,  the  people  gazed  upon  the  flice  of  the  venerable  Prior- 
ess, v?ho  obedient  to  the  Emperor's  cruel  decree,  was  yielding-  up'  the 
keys  and  the  golden  crucifix.  She  gave  her  keys  with  a  firm  hand  ;  but 
when  she  relinquished  the  cross,  the  emblem  of  her  office,  and  of  her 
Eaith,  the  courage  of  the  poor  old  woman  almost  deserted  her.  She  of- 
fered it,  but  as  the  Commissioner  extended  his  hand,  she  shrank  involun- 
tarily, and  once  more  pressed  the  cross  to  her  quivering  lips.  Then  rais- 
ing it  on  high,  as  if  to  call  upon  Heaven  to  witness  the  sacrilege,  she 
bowed  her  head  and  relinquished  it  forever. 

Perhaps  she  had  hoped  for  an  interposition  from  heaven  ;  but  alas !  no 
sign  was  given,  and  the  sacrifice  was  complete. 

The  priest  who  had  addressed  the  crowd  advanced  to  the  Prioress. 
"  Whither  are  you  going,  my  daughter?"  said  he. 


.OMl'KROR    OF    A1  .-sTKlA. 


Tlie  Prioress  raised  her  hen(i,  and  stared  at  him  wiih  vacnnt,  tearless 
eyes.  "We  must  go  into  the  wide,  wide  world/'  rejjlicd  she.  "Thw 
"Emperor  has  forbidden  us  to  serve  the  Lord." 

"  The  Emperor  intends  you  to  become  useful  members  of  society,"  said 
a  voice  .in)ong  the  crowd.  "The  Emperor  intends  tiiut  you  shall  cease 
your  everlasting  prayers,  and  tuni  yoji  useless  hands  to  some  account, 
instead  of  living  on  your  knees,  he  intends  to  force  you  to  become  hon- 
est wives  and  mothers,  who  shall  bo  of  some  use  to  him,  by  bearing 
children,  as  you  were  told  to  do  when  your  mother  Eve  was  driven  from 
her  Paradise !" 

Every  head  was  turned  in  eager  curiosity  to  discover  the  speaker  of 
these  bold  words;  but  in  vain,  he  could  not  be  identified. 

"  But  how  arc  you  going  to  live?"  asked  the  priest,  when  the  mur- 
murs had  ceased. 

"  The  Emperor  has  given  us  a  pension  oi  two  hundred  ducats,"  said 
the  Prioress,  gently. 

"But  that  will  not  maintain  you  without *' 

"It  will  maintain  honest  women  who  deserve  to  live,"  cried  the  same 
voice  that  had  spoken  before.  "Ask  the  people  around  you  how  they 
live  and  whether  they  have  pensions  from  the  crown.  And  I  should 
like  to  know  whether  a  lazy  nun  is  any  better  than  a  peasant's  wife? 
And  if  yon  arc  afraid  of  the  world,  go  among  the  Ursulines»who  serve  the 
Emperor  by  educating  children.  The  Ursulines  are  not  to  be  suppress- 
ed." 

"True,"  said  some  among  the  crowd,  "why  should  they  not  work  as 
well  as  we.'or  why  do  they  not  go  among  the  Ursulines  and  make  them- 
selves useful  ■?"  And  thus  were  the  sympathies  of  the  people  withdrawn 
from  the  unhappy  nuns.  They,  meanwhile,  went  their  way,  chaunting 
as  they  went,  "  Cujus  animam  gcvientem,  contrestantein  et  dolentem  per- 
ira7isivii  r/ladms." 

While  the  Clarisserines  were  passing  from  sight,  the  people,  always 
swayed  by  the  controlling  influence  of  the  moment,  returned  quietly  to 
their  horijes.  Three  men  with  hats  drawn  over  their  brows,  pressed 
through  the  crowd,  and  followed  the  procession  at  some  distance. 

"  You  see,"  said  one  of  the  three,  "  how  a  few  words  were  sufficient 
to  turn  the  tide  of  the  people's  sympathies,  and  to  confound  that  fanatic 
prifst  in  his  attempts  to  create  disturbance." 

"  Which  he  would  have,  succeeded  in  doing  but  for  your  Majesty " 

"Hush  Lacy,  hush.     We  are  laboring  men,  nothing  more." 

"Yes,"  growled  Lacy,  "and  you  put  us  to  hard  labor,  too,  when  you 
embarked  in  this«dangerous  business.  It  was  a  very,  bold  thing  to  come 
among  this  excited  multitude." 

"I  was  determined  to  watch  the  people,  and  counteract,  if  possible, 
the  effect  of  the  sly  black-coats  upon  my  subjects.  Was  it  not  well 
that  1  was  there  to  rescue  them  from  the  miseries  of  revolt  ?"^ 

"  Yes.  1  think  there  was  danger  at  one  time  that  mischief  would  re- 
sult from  the  pious  comedy  of  the  Prioress." 


J'l.SEl^H   THE   SKClA'l). 


"To  be  sure  Iheve  was,"  cried  the -Emperor.  '•  But  this  tim-e,  1  won 
the  field  through  u  few  well-directed  words.  And  now  let  us  go  and  see 
the  show  Ht  the  two  other  convents.  Perhaps  we  may  come  in.  time  to- 
send  another  well  directed  arrow  in  the  midst  of  the  sistc-rhoods !" , 


CHAPTER  VI. 

COUNT   TODSTADSKy's   ESCORT. 

"  You  promise  that  he  shall  remain  but  fiyie  minutes  in  my  room,  fa- 
ther?" said  Rachel. 

"I  give  you  my  word  that  he  shall  stay  just  long  enough  for  me  to- 
complete  my  preparations  to  escort  him  home." 

''  What  mean  you,  dear  father?  At  least  tell  me  what  you  intend  to- 
do." 

"I  merely  infend  a  jest,  dear  child,"  said  Eskeles  Flies,  laughing.  "A 
jest  which  shall  announce  to  the  people  of  Vienna  that  the  Jewish  ban- 
ker has  no  desire  to  receive  the  visits  of  the  Christian  Count.  Ah,  ele- 
ven o'clock!  The  hour  for  your  interview.  Farewell,  my.  daughter, 
your  lover  comes." 

The  banker  disappeared  through  a  tapestry-door,  and  scarcely  had  he 
closed  it  when  Count  Podstadsky  was  announced. 

Rachel  had  so  unconquerable  an  aversion  to  Podstadsky  that  instead 
of  going  forward  to  greet  him,  she  actually  stepped  back,  and  raised  her 
hand  as  if  to  ward  him.  off.  But  the  Count  was  not  easily  repulsed. 
"At  last  my  aYigel,"  said  he,  "  my  hour  of  happiness  is  here,  at  last  you 
are  mine,  and  I — am  the  happiest  of  mortals!"  ♦ 

,    "  Who  tells  you  that  I  am  yours  ?"  said  Rachel,  still  retreating. 

"  Yoursblf,  my  Houri,  when  you  consent  to  receive  me  alone.  How- 
shall  I  prove  to  you  the  extent  of  ray  adoration?" 

"  Oh,  you  can  easily  do  that,"  said  Rachel,  "  by  becoming  a  Jew  for 
the  love  of  me." 

At  the  idea  of  his  becoming  a  Jew,  Podstadsky  burst  out  into  a  fit 
of  laughter,  but  Rachel  affected  not  to  hear  it. 

"You  know  that  by  becoming  a  Jew,"  continued  she'  i'you  would  be 
at  liberty  to  marry  me  and  inherit  my  father's  ducats," 

At  mention  of  her  fither's  wealth,  Pbdstad.sky  felt  that  he  had  laugh- 
ed too  soon  ;  the  thought  of  the  banker's  millions  made  him  feel  rather 
"grave.  They  were  worth  anything  short  of  such  a  lese  noblesse  as  apos- 
tacy. 

'"  What  to  me  are  your  father's  ducats?"  cried  he  vehemently.     "I 


love  nothing  here  hut,  his  daughter,  and  my  ]ove  is  .suiii.:iciii  (or  mp.  I 
usk  nothing  biit  the  pricpless  irensure  of  your  heart.  Come,  sweet  one, 
come." 

"Away  with  yo»i,"  cried  Rachel, .nnahle  to  endure  his  insolence  longer. 
"If  I  have  permitted  you  to  sully  the  jmrity  ofmy  home  with  your  pre- 
sence, it  was  that  1  might  tell  you  once  for  all  how  1  despise  you  !  Psow 
begone,  sir." 

"And  allow  me  to  accompany  you  home."  <:aid  a  mockin<»  voice  be- 
hind; and  as  Podstad>sky  turned  with  a  start  to  see  whence  it  came,  he 
jnct  the  fiery  black  eyes  of  Eskeles  I'lies,  who  approached  with  a  tall 
wax-light  in  his  hand. 

The  Count  trembled  inwardly,  but  recovering  his  self-possession,  he 
asked  with  a  hau'jhty  smile,  "Are  we  in  the  Carnival,  and  do  you  repre- 
sent the  Israelitish  god  of  Love?" 

"Yes,  Count,"  said  the  banker,  "and  hi.s  torch  shall  light  you  home, 
lest  you  stumble  on  your  way,  and  fall  into  the  pit  of  dishonor.  Come 
and  receive  the  ovation  prepared  for  you." 

So  saying,  Eskeles  Flies  opened  the  door,  and  the  Count  looked  out 
with  dismay. 

The  long  hall  was  lined  on  both  sides  with  the  liveried  servants  of  the 
banker,  pach  bolding  in  his  hand  a  wax-light,  whose  yellow  flame  flared 
to  and  fro,  as  the  air  from  the  open  door  helow  came  in  fitful  puff's  up 
the  wide  marble  staircase. 

"Come,"  ?aid  the  banker,  advancing  with  his  flambeau.  Podstadsk}- 
hesitated.  If  his  sense  of  hoi\or  was  dead,  his  vanity  was  not,  and  iti 
winced  at  the  slightest  touch  of  ridicule.  Was  there  no  escape  from  this 
absurd  escort?  He  looked  aroujid  and  saw  no  hope  of  rescue.  Behind 
him  Rachel  hnd  locked  the  door,  and  the  servants  were  so  closely  ranged 
together  that  it  was  vain  to  attempt  a  passage  through  that;  living  wall 
of  fire.  He  had  no  alternative  but  to  laugh  derisively  and  step  into  the 
•rank^.  The  procession  mc)ved  on  and  gathered  strength  as  io  moved  ; 
for  on  the  staircase,  in  the  lower  hall,  and  at  the  front  of  the  house  the\ 
Avere  joined  by  throng  after  throng,  each  man  of  which,  like  the  coni- 
mander-in  chief,  was  armed  with  a  flambeau.  This  was  bad  enonah  of 
itself,  but  the  Count's  body-guard  were  all  in  a  titter,  and  every  man 
enjoyed  the  jest  pxcept  himself. 

They  had  by  this  time  reached  the  street,  and  what  was  the  rage  and 
mortification  of  the  proud  Austrian  grandee,  when  he  saAv  that  curiositv 
bad  drawn  thither  a  concourse  of  people,  who  kept  up  with  the  proces- 
sion, wondering  what  on  earth  could  be  the  meaning  of  it.^" 

"See,"  cried  one,  "  Ilerr  Eskeles  Flies  has  caught  a  marten  in  his 
hen-roost  and  is  lighting  him  liome." 

"And  the  marten  is  the  fine  Count  Podstadsky-Liechtenstcin,"  cried  an- 
other. "Iknowhim.  He  rejoices  in  the  title  of  the  '  womaii-kiiler.'  Only 
look  how  he  ^eaks  along  as  the  tribe  of  Israel  are  dogging  hini  home  !" 

•This  9(<«>n»  is  historical.    See  LettPr.<  of  a  French  traveller,  vol.  l,p.  405.    Friedel's  letters  from 
Vieimi      v.. I  1>f!.  p.  30. 


24  JOSEPH  THE  SkCOND. 

'  "The  Israelites  are  escorting  him  home,"  jeered  the  multitude,  and 
the  procession  moved  on,  never  stopping  until  it  had  reach6d  the  Count's 
own  hotel.  Once  there,  Eskeles'FJies,  in  a  loud  voice,  bade  him  adieu,, 
and  requested  to  know  whether  he  sljjould  accompany  him  further. 

"No,"  replied  Count  Podstadsky,  trenibling  with  passion,  "and  you 
shall  answer  to  me  for  this  outrage.  We  shall  see  whether  the  unbe- 
lieving Jew  can  mock  the  Christian  with  impunity  !" 

"  Accuse  me  before  the  public  tribunals,"  answered  the  banker,  "and 
I  shall  enter  ony  complaint  against  you." 

'•  Indeed!"  said  Podstadsky  contemptuously.  "The  Jew  will  be  al- 
lowed to  accuse  an  Austrian  nobleman  !     Will  he  '?" 

"  Yes,  by  the  God  of  Israel,  he  will,"  replied  Eskeles  Flies  so  loud 
that  his  voice  was  heard  by  the  people  around.  "Yes,  thanks  to  the 
Emperor,  his  subjects  before  the  law  are  all  equal,  and  Jew  and  Chris- 
tian are  alike  amenable  to  its  judgments.  Long  live  Joseph  the  Second, 
the  father  of  his  people  !" 

"  Long  live  the  father  of  his  people  !"  shouted  the  fickle  multitude, 
•and  glad  that  the  attention  of  the  crowd  had  been  diverted  from  himself, 
Count  Podstadsky-Liechteustein  slunk  away  to  ruminate  over  the  mor- 
tifying occurrences  of  the  morning. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE    LAMPOON!". 

The  Emperor,  with  his  confidential  Secretary,  had  been  at  work  througli 
the  entire  night.  Day  had  dawned,  and  still  he  wrote  on,  nor  seemed 
to  be  conscious  of  the  hour.  In  his  restless  zeal,  he  felt  no  fatigue,  no 
exhaustion,  nor  yet  any  excitement,  and  not  until  the  last  document  had 
been  read  and  signed,  did  he  rise  from  his  chair  to  take  a  few  turns 
around  the  room,  while  Giinther  was  sorting  the  papers,  and  placing 
them  in  a  port-folio. 

"  Giinther,"  said  the  Emperor,  "  what  is  the  matter  ?  You  look  pale 
and  suffering." 

Giinther  raised  his  head  and  smiled.  "'Nothing,  sire,  is  the  matter, 
but  want  of  rest.     A  few  hours  sleep  will  restore  me." 

"  Not  so,  Giinther  ;  you  belie  yourself  when  you  say  so,  for  never  in 
ray  life,  have  1  seen  such  an  indefatigable  worker  as  you.  Ah  !  you  look 
down,  so  that  I  know  you  are  not  frank  with  me.  Come,  have  you  no 
confidence  in  me?" 

"  Oh,  sire,  I  have  the  most  unbounded  confidence  in  yobr  goodness ; 
but  since  you  force  me  to  speak,  I  am  uneasy  about  yourself." 


KMHKKOK   CiV  Al'MKIA.  Z'.t 

"How  SO,  GiinLher?" 

"  P.ecanse,  your  Majf^sfcy  strides  forward  in  your  prdjects  of  reform 
■wilhout  the  least  apprehension  of  the  danger  ibat  atti  nds  such  chtinges. 
You  ru>h  through  the  flames  without  ev«f  dreaming  that  they  may  some 
day  cctffsume  you." 

The  Emperor  sVi'gged  his  shoulders.  "  Always  the  same  song — an 
echo  of  Lacy  and  Rosenberg.  I  have  no  Vime  to  temporise  as  you  would 
advise  me  to  do.  Who  knows  how  long  1  shall  live  to  carry  out  my 
own  free  will  ?" 

"  Certainly,  if  your  Majesty  works  as  you  have  done  of  late,  your 
chance  for  life  is  not  very  great.  You  seem  to  forget  that  mind  is  sub- 
ordinate to  matter — not  matter  to  mind — that  physical  nature  must  have 
her  rights,  and  no  man  can  withstand  her  exactions.  Pardon  mc  these 
bold  words,  sire,  but  if  1  speak  at  all,  I  must  speak  the  truth.  You  have 
begun  a  gigantic  edifice,  and  if  you  die,  it  must  remain  forever  incom- 
plete." 

"  For  that  very  rAison,  I  must  complete  it  myself,  for,  indeed,  Giin- 
ther,  you  are  right.  When  I  die,  I  leave  no  man  worthy  to  succeed  to 
my  stupcndousundcrtakings.  I  shall,  therefore,  live  until  I  have  accom- 
plished them  all."  > 

"  Then,  your  Majesty  must  work  less;"  exclaimed  Giinther  warmly. 
"  You  do  not  believe  that  in  pleading  for  you,  sire,  I  give  one  thought 
to  myself,  for  nothing  is  too  laborious  for  me,  when  I  work  for  my  Em- 
peror.'^ 

Joseph  laid  his  hand  softly  upon  Giinther's  shoulder.  "  I  believe  you 
Giinther.  I  esteem  you  as  one  of  my  best  friends,  and  well  you  know- 
that  for  you  I  have  no  political  secrets." 

"  I  would  sooner  die,  than  betray  your  Majesty,  even  unwillingly." 
said  Giinther,  looking  with  his  large,  honest  eyes  into  the  Emperor's 
face.  * 

"  I  know  it,  Giinther,  but  as  you  enjoy  ray  confidence  without  reserve, 
you  ought  to  know  that  I  have  too  much  to  do  to  think  of  rest.  Oh,  it 
would  be  dreadful  for  me  to  die  before  my  structure  is  complete  ?  Giin- 
ther, Giinther,  the  priests  would  transform  my  fairy  palace  into  a  gloomy 
church,  and  from  its  towers,  in  lieu  of  the  noble  clock  which  is  to  strike 
the  hour  of  reformation  for  my  people,  would  frown  the  Cross  that  is 
the  symbol  of  the  unenlightened  past.  .  Oh,  let  me  not  hear  in  my  dying 
moments  the  crash  of  the  temple  1  would  rear  to  Truth !" 

"  Then  recreate  your  mind,  sire,  with  literature  or  art.  It  is  long  since 
the  speaking  tones  of  your  violincello  have  been  heard  in  the  palace." 

"Very  true,  Giinther,  but  I  cannot  invite  the  Muses  into  my  study. 
A  prince  has  no  right  to  associate  with  such  frivolous  ladies,  for  he  is  not 
on  earth  to  pass  away  time.  The  King  of  Prussia  heads  a  royal  sect 
who  devote  themselves  to  authorship.  The  Empress  of  RussiaVcllows 
after  him  with  Voltaire  in  her  hanel.  'I  cannot  emulate  their  literary 
greatness.  I  read  to  learn,  and  travel  to  enlarge  my  ideas ;  and  1  flatter 
myself  that  as  I  encourage  men  of  letters,  I  do  them  a  greater  service 


J1I6KHH    rnii   ofeC 


than  1  would,  weie  I  to  sit  at  a  desk  and  help,  tiiem  to  \v'e;ave  sonnets. 
Go  let  us  eschew  Apollo  and  his  light-lboced  companions;  I  aim  to  be 
nothing  but  an  imperial  statesman.  IJiit,"  continued  the  Emperor, 
frowning,  "(get  littie  syiJLtpa.fcliy  from  my  subjects.  Connsellors,  no- 
bles, burghers,  priests,  all  heap  obstacle  upon  obstacle  in  my  path,  and 
the  woric  advances  slowly.  The  revenues,  too,  are  inadequate  to  the 
requirements  of  the  state.  The  financial  affairs  of  the  crown  are  disor- 
dered, and  it  is  only  by  the  strictest  economy  that  I  am  able  to  sustain 
the  army.  The  people  call  me  a  miser  because  Maria  Theresa's  prodi- 
gality of  expenditure  forces  upon  me  measures  of  ret'-enchment,  and  ne- 
cessitates unusual  expedients  for  the  raising  of  funds." 

"Which  unhappily  were  extorted  from  convents  and  shrines." 

"  Unhappily  !  liappily,  you  mean  to  say.  The  treasures  which  were 
.'wasted  on  convent-chapels  and  shrines,  have  saved  us  from  bankruptcy; 
and  God  will  look  down  with  favor  tipon  the  sacrifice  which  dead  super- 
stitition  has  made  to  Jiving  Jove,  and  will  bestow  a  blessing  upon  the 
work  of  my  hands!  True,  those  heroes  of  darkness,  the  monks  and 
priests,  will  cry  anathema !  and  the  earth  will  be  filled  with  their  howls !" 

"Like  that  which  greeted  Al'.]ides,  when  he  stormed  the  gates  of  Tar- 
tarus," said  Gihither,  smiling. 

"You  are  right.  The  work  Is  worthy  of  Alcides,  but  with  the  bles- 
sing of  God  it  shall  be  done..  Little  care  1  for  the  wail  of  nuns  or  the 
groans  of  priests;  let  them  shriek  and  tear  their  hair,  or  if  they  like  it 
better,  let  them  vent  their  spleen  in  lampoons  and  caricatures.  See 
Giinther  what  a  compliment  I  received  yesterday." 

And  the  Emperor  drew  from  his  escritoire  a  paper  which  he  unfolded. 
"  Look  at  this.  It  takes  off  one  of  my  great  crimes.  You  know  I  have 
deprived  the  court  of  the  privilege  of  living  in  the  palace,  and  have 
given  them  wherewith  to  find  lodgings  in  the  city.  Here  go  the  ladies 
with  their  bundles  under  their  arms,  and  the  lord  high-steward  nas  a 
broom  sweeping  after  them  as  they  go.  This  charming  individual  in 
the  corner  with  a  hunting  whip  is  myself.  And  here  is  the  pith  of  thp. 
joke,  'Rooms  to  let  here.  Inquire  of  the  proprietor  on  the  first  floor.'f 
What  do  you  think  of  it?" 

"Abominable!  Inconceivable!"  ejaculated  Giinther.  "As  unjust  afj 
it  is  stinging."  '  , 

"It  does  not  sting  me.  I  have  a  sound  hide.  When  it  itches  it  is 
cured  with  scratching. |  Here  is  another  pasquinade.  It  was  thrown 
before  my  horse's  feet  as  I  was  riding  in  the  park." 

'■'■JosepU  premiet^  aimable  et '^  charmant :  Joseph  Second,  scorpion  et 
iyran.'''' 

"  How  can  your  Mnjesty  laugh  at  such  unparalleled  insolence?"  cried 
*he  indignant  Secretary. 

"  Noone  can  deny  that  I  have  stung  priests  and  nuns,"  said  Joseph 
feughing,  "  so  they  are  welcome  to  roar,  since  their  tongues  are  the  only 

*The  Emperor's  own  wo»-(1s     Letters  of  .Joseph,  p.  57. 
1  nnbiior  I.  I".  190.  t  .Tnfspph's  own  words. 


fCM.^'KhiJl-.     OK    AL  -Tlii.i.  'J/ 

weapons  wherewith  they  may  revenge  thenvseives  uj>p«  ihoir  tyrant 
As  I  have  proclaimed  freedom  of  speech  and  press,  you  see  they  take. 
advantage  of  the.  privilege.'' 

"  Well,  ilyour  jMajesty  takes  so  niagnaniinousa  view  of  these  insult- 
ing lampoons,"  said  (iiinther  drawing  a  [laper  from  his  pof!<et,  "  I  niust 
show  you  one  which  yesterday  was  posted  on  the  wall  of  the  Konigs- 
kloster." 

"So  the  K(inigsklostcr  irritates  the  servants  of  the  Lord,  does  it"?" 
laugled  Joseph.  "They  cannot  forgive  me  for  selling  it  to  the  banker 
Flies,  to  transfigure  into  a  J(nvish  palace !" — 

"  Well,  let  us  see  the  pasquinade  !" 

"Sire,  my  tongue  refuses  to  pronounce  the  words,"  replied  Giinther, 
handing  it  to  the  Emperor. 

"  Nay,, you  must  accustom  your  tongue  to  pronounce  them,  for  we 
are  apt  to  have  many  more  of  the  same  sort  lo  read.  So  go  on,  and 
speak  out  bo'dly." 

The  Emperor  threw  himself  into  an  armchair,  and  making  himself 
comfortable,  prepared  to  listen. 

The  lampoon  denounced  him  as  the  persecutor  of  the  brides  of  the 
Lord,  and  the  enemy  of  the  church.  It  accused  him  of  having  converted 
a  holy  temple  into  the  abode  of  sin,  that  he  might  gratify  his  greed  for 
money. 

When  Giinther  had  concluded,  he  cried  out  impatiently,  "This  time 
at  least  your  Majesty  will  show  your  enemies  that  forbearance  has  its 
limits,  and  that  the  liberty  of  the  press  shall  not  degenerate  into  license." 

"  By  no  means.  That  would  look  as  if  1  were  afraid.  I  commission 
you  to  have  the  lampoon  re-printed  and  to  expose  it  for  sale  in  the  book- 
stores at  six  kreuzers  a  copy,  the  proceeds  to  be  given  to  the  poor.'* 

"•  Oh  that  your  Majesty's  enemies  were  here  to  sink  with  shame  at 
your  feet,  and  beg  your  forgiveness,"  cried  Giinther. 

"  Hush,"  said  Joseph.  "  Were  my  enemies  to  hear  you,  they  would 
liken  me  to  other  princes,  who  make  a  parade  of  their  good  qualities  so 
liiat  flatterers  may  immortalize  them  in  laudatory  dithyrambics, —  But 
the  time  for  chatting  and  resting  has  expired,"  continued  Joseph,  risino- 
from  his  chair.  The  labors  of  the  day  call  me.  I  must  go  to  receive 
my  petitioners,  who  must  be  weary  with  wailing,  for  I  am  a  quarter  of" 
an  hour" behind  the  time." 

*  Hietorical. 


JOSEPH  THK  SKCOSD, 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE    PETITIONERS.  ■ 

The  wide  cnri'idor  in  which  Joseph  was  accustomed  to  receive  his  pe- 
titioners was  crowded.  People  of  all  ages  and  conditions  were  tliere, 
■waiting  with  trembling  impatience  the  appearance  of  the  Emperor,  who 
received  the  applications  of  his  subjects  every  day  from  nine  o'clock  un- 
til twelve.  Suddenly  a  commotion  was  perceptible  among  the  crowd, 
and  a  pressure  was  felt  towards  the  door  which  led  to  the  cabinet  of  the 
Emperor.  The  ears  of  those  who  have  suits  to  urge,  are  keen ;  and 
every  one  of  that  motley  throng  heard  the  footsteps  of  him  who  held 
their  destines  in  his  hand. 

The  door  opened,  and  Joseph  wa.s  before  them.  At  once,  every  hand 
that  held  a  paper,  was  eagerly  stretched  forward.  The  Emperor  went 
from  one  to  another,  and  while  he  collected  their  petitions  entered  into 
friendly  converse  with  the  applicants. 

The  last  petitioner  was  an  old  man  in  the  garb  of  a  Hungarian  peas- 
ant. His  white  hair  fell  in  locks  from  beneath  his  wide-brimmed  hat  of 
dark  brown,  and  the  cloak  which  was  thrown  carelessly  over  his  stalwart 
shoulders,  was  embroidered  with  shells  and  silver  spangles.  His  sun- 
burnt face  was  free  from  the  Runic  characters  which  the  slow  finger  of 
Time  is  apt  to  trace  upon  the  brow  of  the  human  race  ;  and  but  for  the 
color  of  his  hair,  he  would  have  been  mistaken  for  a  man  in  the  prime 
of  life. 

The  Emperor  was  favorably  struck  with  his  bearing,  and  smiled  with 
more-than  usual  benignity. 

"  Whence  come  you  ?"  said  he. 

*'  From  Hungary,  sire,"  replied  the  peasant  with  a  smile  that  revealed 
two  rows  of  regular,  white  teeth.  "  I  was  one  week  on  my  journey  ;  at 
night,  the  open  field  my  bed,  and  by  day,  a  drink  of  ,water  more  than 
once  my  only  breakfiast." 

"  You  must  have  had  important  busfness  in  Vienna." 

"  Yes,  sire.     I  was  sent  with  this  petition  to  your  Majesty." 

"  It  niHSt  be  urgent,  to  have  induced  you  to  travel  so  far." 

"  Urgent,  indeed,  sire.  I  promised  the  peasants  of  our  district  to  give 
it  into  your  Majesty's  own  hand.  It  has  the  name  of  every  man  in  the 
district ;  but  if  I  had  had  time  to  go  around  with  it,  I  might  have 
brought  with  me  the  name  of  every  peasant  in  Hungary.  It  was  arrang- 
ed that  I  should  present  the  petition  this  morning,  'and  now,  .while  we 
stand  here^  every  man,  woman  and  child  at  home  is  praying  for  my  suc- 
cess." 


EMl'EROR  OF  AfSTKIA.  2{> 

"  What  can  I  do  for  you  ?  Speak,  and  if  possible,  I  will  grant  your 
petition." 

"Then,  your  Majesty,  read  it  aloud,  that  I  may  say  to  my  brethren, 
that  our  cry  of  distress  has  reached  the  iinperial  ear." 

Joseph  smiled,  and  opening  the  paper,  read  aloud. 

"  Compassionate  Emperor !  Four  days  of  hard  labor  as  socmen  ;  the 
fifth  day  at  the  fisheries  ;  the  sixth  day  following  our  lords  in  the  hunt — 
the  seventh  day  is  the  Lord's.  Judge  then  whether  we  arc  able  to  pay 
our  taxes." 

"Yes,  yes,  murmured  the  man  to  himself,  "  he  cannot  say  that  if  we 
are  oppressed,  he  knows  nothing  of  it."  • 

"  I  wril  not  say  so,  ray  friend,"  said  the  Emperor  with  emotion.  "The 
whole  history  of  your  wrongs  is  written  in  these  few  touching  lines.  I 
know  that  you  are  oppressed,  and  that  when  you  sink  with  exhaustion 
at  yonr  tasks,  you  are  roused  with  the  lash.  I  know  that  you  are  treat- 
ed like  cattle,  that  you  have  neither  property  nor  rights,  and  that  agri- 
culture suffers  sorely  from  the  obstacles  which  your  masters  place  in 
your  paths. — I  know  all — and  by  the  God  above  u;^,  to  whom  your  wives 
and  children  are  even  now  at  prayer,  I  swear  to  free  the  Hungarian  serf 
from  bondage !" 

"  To  freq  the  Hungarian  serf!"  shouted  the  peasant.  "  Do  I  hear 
aright?     Does  your  Majesty  promise  freedom  to  the  Hungarian  serf?" 

"As  God  hears  me,  1  will  free  him,"  replied  the  Emperor  solemnly. 
"  Servitude  shall  cease,  and  free  socage  shall  replace  villeinage.  Your 
tax-bills  shall  be  revised  and  your  rights  guaranteed  by  the  crown.  If 
after  this,  you  are  oppressed  come  confidently  to  me  arrd  your  tyrants 
shall  be  punished ;  for  under  lay  reign  all  men  shall  be  equal  before  the 
law." 

The  peasant  sank  on  his  knees  and  looked  up  with  glistening  eyes. 
"  Oh,  my  Iprd  and  emperor,"  said  he,  "  I  had  heard  of  tears  of  joy,  but 
until  to-day,  I  knew  not  what  they  meant.  I  have  been  scourged  for 
refusing  to  kneel  to  ray  lord,  but  I  bend  the  knee  to  you,  for  I  feel  that 
you  are  a  mighty  sovereign  and  a  merciful  fotherto  your  people.  God 
bless  you  for  the  words  by  which  you  have  recognised  our  right  to  live 
and  to  be  free !"  • 

He  bent  down  and  kissed  the  Emperor's  feet,  then  rising  he  said, 
^•'  Farewell,  gracious  lord  of  Hungary.     I  must  return  home." 

"  Will  you  not  remain  a  day  or  two  to  see  the  beauties  of  Vienna  ?" 
asked  the  Emperor. 

"No,  your  Majesty.  I  carry  too  much  joy  with  me  to  tarry  on  my 
way;  and  what  could  I  see  in  Vienna  to  rival  the  snow-white  mountains 
that  mirror  themselves  in  the  blue  lakes  of  Hungary  ?" 

"  Then,  at  least,^  take  this  purse  to  defray  your  expenses." 

"  No,  your  Majesty,  I  cannot  take  gold  to  defray  the  expenses  of  a 
holy  pilgrimage.  Farewell !  And  may  the  blessings  of  a  grateful  peo- 
ple be  echoed  for  you  in  heaven  !" 

The  Emperor  laid  his  hand  upon  the  peasant's  shoulder. 


•30  .JOSEPH  THE  SliCOND. 

"  Tell  me  the  name  of  my  Hungarian  friend  !" 

"  My  name?     It  is  Ilorja,  sire." 

"i"'are\veU  then,  Horja,  let  me  hear  from  you.'' 


.    -  CHAPTER   IX. 

THE   PETITIONERS. 

As  the  door  closed  behind  Horja,  the  Emperor  continued  his  rounds, 
but  no  more  petitions  were  presented.  Here  and  there,  however,  was 
heard  a  request  for  an  audience,  which  Joseph  granted  and  then  retired 
to  his  cabinet,  leaving  the  door  open. 

"  Have  the  goodness  to  walk  in,"  said  he  to  the  lady,  who  was  in  ad- 
vance of  the  others.  She  obeyed,  and  the  Emperor,  closing  the  door, 
took  a  sftat  at  his  escritoire. 

"  Now,  madam,  I  am  ready  to  hear  you,  but  as  there  are  nine  persons 
to  follow,  1  must  request"  you  to  be  brief.     What  is  your  name  ?" 

"I  am  the  widow  of  the  President  von  Kahlbaum." 

"  He  was  a  worthy  man.     Have  you  any  children,  madam  ?" 

"  Yes,  your  Majesty,  I  have  two  daughters  and  a  son." 

''  Two  daughters'?  I  once  had  a  little, maiden  of  my  own,  but  she  is 
dead,"  said  the  Emperor,  sadly.  "  How  can  1  serve  you  and  your  chil- 
dren 1" 

"  Oh,  sire,  the  fearful  ordinance  .by  which  the  pensions  from  her  late 
Majesty's  privy-purse  were  withdrawn,  has  ruined  me.  I  beseech  of  you, 
sire,  restore  to  me  my  pension  extraordinary." 

"Are  you  not  aware  that  the  pensions  extraordinary  are  abolished  V 

"  Yes,  sire,  but  through  your  Majesty's  liberality,  I  hope  to  retain  the 
pension  I  held  fifom  the  Empress.  The  loss  of  it  heightens  my  grief  for 
the  death  of  my  husband,  and  makes  life  unendurable.  Without  it  I 
should  have  to  part  with  my  carriage,  with  a  portion  of  my  household, 
and  live  in  complete  retirement.  I  am  sure  that  your  Majesty's  owA 
sense  of  justice  will  plead  for  me." 

"Justice  is  the  motive  power  of  all  my  actions,  madam,"  replied  the 
Emperor  curtly,  "and  for  that  very  reason  you  cannot  retain  your  pen- 
sion." 

"  Sire,  I  am  sorely  stricken.  The  merits  of  my  husband — my  posi- 
tion " 

"  Your  husband's  merits  have  earned  you  the  pension  you  already  re- 
ceive from  the  crown,  and  as  for  your  position,  that  can  in  no  way  con- 
— ^ — — — I 

♦  Unbappy  Horja !    This  seDtimentaiintemew  cost  him  his  life. 


EifPKKOR    OK   ALSTKIA.  SI 

cern  me.  I  grant  that  your  loss  is  great,  but  your  special  pension  will 
maintain  three  poor  families,  and  I  cannot  allow  you  to  receive  it  lon- 
ger." 

"Alas  1 '  cried  the  lady,  "  what  are  my  daiij^hters  to  do?" 

"They  can  become  good  housekeepers  orgovernetJ.se:>,  if  they  have  re- 
ceived good  educations." 

"  Impossible,  sire,  my  d.-mghter?  are  of  noble  birth,  and  they  cannot 
descend  to  the  humiliaiion  of  earning  aliving." 

"  Why  not?  1  am  sure  I  earn  my  living,  and  earn  it  by  hard  work, 
too.  No  one  is  too  good  to  work ;  and  since  the  aristocracy  cannot 
shield  their  children  from  want,  it  is  clear  that  they  cannot  free  them 
from  the  necessity  of  labor." 

"Then,  your  Majesty,  have  mercy  upon  my  son — the  only  son  of  a 
man  of  noble  extraction." 

"What  profession  has  be  chosen?' 

"  He  witches  to  be  an  oflicer  in  the  army  ;  but  he  was  so  severely  dealt 
with  in  his  examination,  that  he  has  not  been  able  to  obtain  a  commis- 
sion. Oh,  your  Majesty,  I  beseech  of  you,  grant  him  a  command  in  the 
infantry  !" 

"  Madam,"  cried  the  Emperor  impatiently,  ''a  man  may  be  the  son 
of  a  distinguished  father  without  having  the  slightest  claim  to  serve  as 
an  officer.  As  your  son  was  not  able  to  stand  his  examination,  he  must 
content  himself  with  being  '  the  son  of  a  man  of  noble  extraction.'  Ex- 
cuse me,  but  my  time  is  limited.  I  regret  to  refuse  your  requests,  but 
justice  compels  me  to  do  so." 

The  Presidentin  burst  into  tears,  and  making  her  inclination  to  the 
Emperor,  left  the  room.  The  latter  following  her,  said,  "  Let  the  next 
petitioner  advance." 

This  was  an  old  hussar,  a  captain  of  cavalry  with  lofty  bearing  and 
snow-white  beard.     He  came  in,  making  a  military  salute. 

"  What  can  I  do  for  you,  my  friend?"  asked  Joseph. 

"  I  come  to  ask  of  your  Majesty  not  to  deprive  me  of  the  pension  ex- 
traordinary which  the  Empress  of  blessed  memory  bestowed  upon  me 
from  her  privy  purse,"  said  the  old  soldier,  bluntly. 

"  Oh,  another  pension  extraordinary  !"  said  the  Emperor,  with  a  laugh. 
"That  cannot  be,  Captain.  The  privy  purse  of  the  Empress,  which,  in 
the  goodness  of  her  heart,  was  thrown  indiscriminately  to  all  who  asked 
for  alms,  this  purse  exists  no  longer.  Jt  has  a  large  hole  in  it  and  its 
contents  have  all  run  out." 

The  old  huzzar  gave  a  grim  look  to  the  Emperor,  and  raised  his^er- 
rnquc.  Pointing  with  his  finger  to  three  wide,  purple  scars  upon  his 
head,  he  said, 

"Sire,  ray  head  is  somewhat  in  the  condition  of  your  privy-purse,  it 
has  several  holes  in  it.     They  were  made  by  your  Majesty's  enemies." 

"  To  stop  such  holes  as  those,  is  ray  sacred  duty,"  said  Joseph  smi- 
ling, "  and  enough  remains  yet  in  the  bottom  of  the  privy-purse  to  sat- 
isfy the  wants  of  a  brave  officer,  who  has  served  me  to  his  own  preju- 


32  JOSEPH  THE  SECOND. 

dice.  Porgtve  my  refusal.  The  petition  which  you  wear  on  your  head 
is  more  eloquent  than  words,  and  your  pension  shall  be  returned 
to  you." 

"  I  thank  your  Majesty,"  said  the  Captain,  and  with  another  stiff  salute, 
he  marched  out. 

The  Emperor  looked  after  him,  laughing  heartily. 

As  he  disappeared,  a  pale,  delicate  woman  came  forward,  accompani- 
ed by  several  young  children,  two  of  which  were  hiding  their  heads  in 
her  skirt.  The  group  filled  up  the  door  like  a  picture,  and  the  children 
clung  so  to  the  pallid  mother  that  she  could  n«t  advance  a  step. 

"  As  you  cannot  come  to  me,  1  will  go  to  you,"  said  the  Emperor, 
contemplating  them  with  a  benevolent  smile.  "  Give  me  your  petition, 
madam." 

These  are  my  petitions,  your  Majesty,"  said  the  woman  pointing  to 
her  children.  "  My  husband  served  for  many  years  in  the  twelfth  regi- 
ment, and  died  of  the  wounds  he  received  in  the  Bavarian  war.  He  left 
me  nothing  but  these  orphans." 

The  Emperor  looked  kindly  at  the  little  golden  heads  that  were  peep- 
ing from  among  the  folds  of  their  mother's  dress,  and  a  cloud  came  over 
his  face.  "  You  grieve  for  your  poverty,  poor  woman,"  said  he,  "  and 
know  not  how  I  envy  your  riches.  How  many  millions  would  I'give  if 
one  of  those  children  was  mine.     Children  are  a  great  blessing." 

"  Yes,  sire,  when  they  have  fathers  to  work  for  them." 

"I  Will  be  their  father,"  said  Joseph,  and  at  the  sound  of  these  loving 
words,  the  children  raised  their  bashful  heads,  to  steal  a  look  at  the 
speaker.  "  Come,  boys,"  continued  he  offering  his  hand,  "  will  any  of 
you  be  soldiers  ?"  ^' 

"Yes,  yes,"  replied  the  r,  two  eldest,  standing  erect  and  making  the 
military  salute. 

"  That  is  right.  You  are  brave  fellows,  and  if  you  behave  well,  you 
shall  belong  to  my  body-guard — Come  to  morrow,"  continued  he  to  the 
mother,  "  and  the  lord-chancellor  will  attend  to  the  maintenance  and 
education  of  your  four  eldest,  meanwhile,  you  shall  have  a  pension  for 
yourself  and  the  youngest.  In  a  few  years,  I  will  do  as  much  for  my 
little  one  there.  Be  punctual  in  your  visit  to  the  chancery — You  will 
be  received  at  ten  o'clock." 

"  God  reward  your  Majesty  !"  faltered  the  happy  mother.  "  Oh,  my 
children,  my  dear -children,  the  Emperor  is  the  father  of  the  orphan! 
Reward  your  gracious  Sovereign  by  being  good,  and  pray  for  him,  with 
all  your  hearts !" 

With  these  words  the  woman  curtsied  and  withdrew,  and  the  audience 
for  that  day  was  at  an  end. 

"  And  pray  for  him  with  all  your  hearts,"  whispered  the  Emperor. 
*'  May  God  hear  the  petitions  of  these  innocent  little  ones.  Perchance 
they  may  weigh  against  the  curses  of  others.  They  are  the  little  roses 
■which  I  sometimes  find  beneath  my  crown  of  thorns, — But  away  with 
sentiment — I  have  no  time  to  Indulge  in  heart- reveries.    My  vocation  is 


BMPEROK    OF   AUSTRIA.  33 

to  v?ork. — Here  is.  a  port-folio  filled  with  petitions.  Giinther  must  help 
me  to  examine  them  !" 

lie  rang  the  Ijell,  and  Gfinther  seated  him.self  and  went  to  work. 
Meanwhile,  the  Emperor  had  taken  up  one  of  the  papers  and  was  read- 
ing it.     Suddenly  he  put  it  down  and  began  to  lau<rh. 

"  Listen,  Giinther,"  said  he,  "  listen  to  this  touching  appeal.  One  of 
the  discharged  counsellors  orders  me  to  give  him, a  larger  pension  that 
he  may  live  in  a  manner  befitting  his  position.  Now  hear  the  conclu- 
sion of  the  petition.     '  Our  Emperor  is  a  poor  callow  mouse.'  "* 

"  And  your  Majesty  can  laugh  at  such  insolence  T'  exclaimed  Giinther 
coloring  with  indignation. 

"Yes,  I  do,"  replied  Joseph.  "  Nothing  can  be  franker  and  more  to 
the  point." 

"And  I,  pardon  me,  sire,  think  that  the  writer  of  this  insolent  letter 
should  be  severely " 

"  Nay,"  interrupted  the  Emperor.  "  You  would  not  have  me  punish 
him  for  being  man  enough  to  say  to  my  face  what  thousands  say  of  me 
behind  my  back,  would  you  ?  Now,  Giinlher,  I  am  so  disinclined  to 
punish  him  that  I  intend  to  increase  his  pension  just  because  he  is  an 
honest,  plain-spoken  fellow.  You  need  not  make  such  a  grimace,  Giin- 
ther.    If  you  feel  badly,  console  yourself  with  your  work." 

The  Emperor  seated  himself  at  the  table  and  went  on  looking  over  his 
petitions,  occasionally  murmuring  to  himself,  "  Our  Emperor  is  a  poorj 
callow  mouse  !" 


CHAPTER  X.     ♦ 

THE  LADY  PATRONESS. 

The  days  of  the  Countess  Baillou  glided  away  in  one  continued  round 
of  pleasure.  She  was  the  cynosure  of  all  eyes  at  concert,  ball,  or  festi- 
val. Even  women  ceased  to  envy  the  conquering  beauty,  and  seemed 
to  think  it  just  that  all  mankind  should  succumb  to  her  unparalleled  at- 
tractions. The  Emperor  had  shared  the  common  enthusiasm,  and  at  a 
..ball  given  by  Prince  Esterhazy,  had  danced  twice  with  the  Countess. 
Those  therefore  who  through  their  rank  or  station  were  ambitious  of  the 
Emperor's  presence  at  their  entertainments,  hastened  one  and  all  to  issue 
pressing  invitations  to  the  enchantress  of  whom  their  Sovereign  had  said 
that  she  was  the  most  fascinnating  woman  in  Vienna. 

*Hubner.  1,P.  199. 


;;4  .  JOSEl'H    I'HK  SECOND. 

Count  Liechtenstein  Podstadsky  was  about  to  give  a  ball,  and  the 
Cuuntess  Buillou  had  oonsenled  to  receive  his  guests.  It  would  perhaps 
have  been  more  natural  that  the  mother  of  the  Count  should  play  tha 
hostess  Ckii  this  occasion  ;  but  it  was  known  that  the  old  couple  were  at 
variance  with  their  only  son  ;  and  the  more  lavish  he  grew  in  his  ex- 
penditure, the  more  penurious  became  his  parents.  The  avarice  of  the 
latter  was  as  well  known  as  the  extravagance  of  the  former,  and  whenever 
there  was  a  new  anecdote  current  illustrative  of  the  prodigality  of  the 
son,  another  was  related  to  exemplify  the  increasing  parsimony  of  the 
father.  ' 

It  was  no  wonder,  therefore,  that  the  bewitching  Countess  should  have 
been  selected  to  preside  over  the  ball  given  by  her  aristocratic  friend. 
Everybody  was  delighted.  The  Emperor  wias  to  be  there,  and  it  was  to 
be  the  most  magnificent  entertainment  of  the  season.  Long  before  the 
hour  fixed  for  the  arrival  of  the  guests,  the  street  before  the  Count's  pal- 
ace was  thronged  with  people,  eager  to  obtain  a  glance  at  anything  ap- 
pertaining to  the  fairy  spectacle.  While  they  were  peering  through  the 
illuminated  windows  at  a  wilderness  of  flowers,  mirrors,  silk  and  velvet, 
a  carriage  drawn  by  four  splendid  horses  came  thundering  down  the 
street  and  drew  up  before  the  door  of  the  palace.  Two  footmen  in  sky- 
blue  velvet  picked  out  with  silver,  leaped  down  to  open  the  door,  and 
in  a  trice,  the  large  portals  of  the  palace  were  thrown  open,  and  a  rich 
carpet  rolled  to  the  carriage-door,  while  six  livered  servants  ranged 
themselves  on  either  side. 

And  now  from  the  carriage 'emerged  the  lady  patroness,  resplendent 
in  silver  o-ause  and  diamonds  that  glittered  like  a  constellation  just  fallen 
from  the  heavens.  The  people,  enraptured  by  the  beauty  of  the  Coun- 
tess, gave  vent  to  their  admiration  without  stint.  As  she  reached  the 
top  of  the  marble  steps,  she  turned  and  smiled  upon  her  worshippers, 
whereupon  they  shouted  as  an  audience  is  apt  to  do  at  the  appearance 
of  a  favorite  prima  donna. 

In  the  midst  of  this  applause,  the  lady  entered  the  ^o^e^,  and  until 
the  door  closed  and  shut  out  the  enchanted  scene  within,  they  watched 
her  graceful  form  as  it  glided  along  followed  by  a  train  of  lackies. 
Count  Podstadsky  came  forward  to  meet  her  with  ceremonious  courtesy. 
They  entered  the  gay  saloons,  but  as  if  led  by  one  common  impulse, 
both  traversed  the  long  suite  of  apartments  in  silence,  and  approached  a 
door  which  led  into  a  small  boudoir  evidently  not  lit  up  for  the  occasion. 
Once  within,  the  door  was  closed,  and  the  purple  velvet  portiere  was 
dropped  before  it. 

"  Do  not  be  afraid,"  said  the  Countess,  with  a  bewitching  smile,-"  we 
arp.  alone.  You  are  at  liberty  to  congratulate  me  upon  my  appearance,* 
for  1  see  by  your  eyes  that  you  are  dying  to  tell  me  how  beautiful 

lam." 

"  Neither  eyes  nor  tongue  could  give  expression  to  a  hundredth  part 
of  the  rapture  which  my  heart  feels  at  your  approach,  Arabella,"  replied 
Podstiidsky,  gazing  upon  her  with  passionate  admiration.     "Surely  eve- 


KMI'LKOK   Uh    Al  8TRIA.  )\a 

vy  woman  must  hate  you,  and  every  man  be  intoxicated   by  your 
charms." 

"  They  are  intoxicated,  Carlo,"  replied  she.  "  They  are  such  fools  ! 
To  think  that  they  are  willing  to  commit  any  deed  of  folly  for  the  sake 
of  a  fair  face  and  two  bright  eyes  !"' 

'•  And  you,  my  angel,  are  cruel  to  all,  and  for  mc  alone  has  the  proud 
Countess  Baillou  a  heart.'' 

"  A  heart !"  ejaculated  the  Countess  with  irony.  ''  Do  you  believe  in 
hearts,  silly  Carlo?  My  dear  friend,  I  at  least,  am  without  such  an  in- 
convenience. If  I  love  anything,  it  is  gold.  Its  chink  to  my  ear  is 
sweetest  harmony,  its  touch  thrills  through  my  whole  being." 

'•  How  you  have  changed,  Arabella!  The  time  was  when  your  lips 
murmured  words  of  love  and  despair,  too!" 

"  Aye,  Carlo  !  But  the  woman  who  murmured  of  love  and  despair — 
she  who  believed  in  innocence  and  loyalty,  is  buried  in  the  Tiber.  She 
whom  you  rescued  thence,  has  received  the  baptism  of  shame,  and  you, 
Count  Podstadsky,  were  her  sponsor.  You  taught  me  the  art  of  lying 
and  deceiving,  and  now  you  prate  to  me  of  a  heart !" 

"  It  is  because  your  maddening  beauty  will  not  suffer  mc  to  forget 
that  mine  is  still  susceptible  of  love,'"  replied  Podstadsky. 

The  Countess  laughed,  but  there  wa§  no  mirth  in  her  voice.  "  Pod- 
stadsky," said  she  throwing  back  her  superb  head,  '-you  have  about  as 
much  heart  as  the  hare,  who  runs  from  a  rustling  leaf,  taking  it  to  be  the 
click  of  the  hunter's  rifle." 

"And  yet,  Arabella,"  replied  Podstadsky  with  a  sickly  smile,  "  I  am 
here,  although  sometimes  I  do  start  and  fancy  that  I  hear  the  hunter's 
step  behind  me." 

"  Hare-like  fright,"  said  Arabella,  raising  her  shoulders.  "  I  wonder 
at  you.  Carlo,  when  you  look  upon  what  we  are  and  reflect  upon  what 
we  have  been.  Everybody  in  Vienna  admires  and  envies  us.  The 
highest  nobles  of  the  land  are  our  willing  guests,  and  the  Emperor  him- 
self {dit-on)  lias  fallen  in  love  with  the  Countess  Baillou.  Oh,  Carlo ! 
Is  it  not  enough  to  make  all  the  gods  of  Olympus  laugh  !" 

""iou  are  right,"  replied  Podstadsky  encouraged.  "The  Emperors 
visit  here  to-night  will  silence  the  clamor  of  my  creditors." 

"  Creditors  !  What  of  them  ?  Was  there  ever  a  nobleman  without 
creditors!  They  are  one  of  the  appendages  of  rank.  And  ■  then.  Carlo 
— if  your  creditors  annoy  you,  what  prevents  you  from  paying  them  "?" 

Podstadsky  shuddered.     "  Do  you  mean " 

"What  is  the  matter  with  the  man?"  asked  Arabella  as  he  paused 
and  she  saw  how  ghastly  he  looked.  "  Of  course,  I  mean  you  to  pay 
as  you  have  paid  before — Pay,  and  pay  promptly.  Then  when  every- 
thing— furniture,  plate,  jewels,  horses  and  equipages  are  ours,  we  sell 
out,  and  realize  our  fortune  in  gold — (no  bank-notes,  Carlo,) — and  then* 
we  take  up  our  abode  in  the  city  of  cities — Paris  !  Gold  ! — Gold  ! — 
There  is " 

''  A  light  knock  was  heard  at  the  door.     The  Countess  disappeared 


3G  JUSEl'U   TUB  SKCONU. 

and  the  Count  put  out  his  head.  It  was  his  steward  who  announced 
that  a  Jady  closely  veiled,  wished  to  speak  with  Count  Podstadsky  ou 
urgent  business. 

"  Show  her  into  the  ante-room.  The  Countess  Baillou  will  do  me 
the  favor  to  receive  her," 

"  My  lord,"  said  the  steward,  "  the  lady  wishes  to  see  you, alone," 

— "  Indeed  "?     Then  shov/  her  in  here." 

The  steward  retired  and  the  Count  stepped  into  one  of  the  lighted 
rooms.     The  Countess  came  forward  smiling.  , 

"  I  heard  it  all,"  said  she,  playfully  threatening  him  with  her  finger. 
"  I  am  not  going  to  allow  you  to  have  a  tete-a-teje  in  the  dark.  No  no, 
my  Jupiter,  your  mysterious  beauty  shall  be  received  jnst  here  under 
the  light  of  the  chandelier,  and  I  shall  watch  you  both  from  the  boudoir. 
That  will  be  safer  for  all  parties.  I  suspect  a  certain  dark-eyed  beauty 
of  this  stratagem,  and  I  long  to  see  the  haughty  prude." 

"Do  you  suspect  Rachel  Eskelesi" 

Arabella  nodded  affirmatively.  " Doubtless  she  comes  to  implore 
forgiveness  for  her  father's  insolence,  and  to  deny  all  complicity  with 
the  old  Jewish  dragon.  Here  she  conies,  Carlo,  but  mark  me ! — If  I 
see  danger  ahead,  1  come  to  the  rescue !" 

The  Countess  then  bounded  like  a  graceful  gazelle,  into  the  boudoir, 
while  the  Count  advanced  to  meet  the  veiled  visitor. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

MOTHER  AND  SON, 

With  the  bow  and  smile  of  a  veritable  libertine.  Count  Podstadsky 
offered  his  arm  to  the  lady  whose  fiice  was  completely  hidden  by  a  long 
black  veil.  The  accommodating  steward  retired  in  haste,  and  the  lady 
looking  around  with  anxiety,  murmured,  "  Are  we  alone?" 

"  Entirely  alone,  my  charming  sphinx,"  replied  Podstadsky.  "  The 
god  of  Love  alone  shall  hear  the  secrets  which  are  to  fall  from  your 
coral  lips.  But  first,  let  me  remove  this  envious  veil,  my  mysterious 
charmer." 

_  .  The  lady  stood  perfectly  still  while  Podstadsky,  by  way  of  exordium, 
embraced  her  affectionately.  Neither  did  she  offer  any  opposition  to 
his  daring  hands,  as  first  they  removed  her  long  mantilla,  and  then 
threw  back  the  black  crape  veil  which  had  so  faithfully  concealed  her 
features. 


KMPEKOK    OK    Al'STKIA.  6/ 

When  he  saw  her  face,  he  startod  hack  with  a  cry. of  revnor^e. 
t  "My  Mother,  oh,  my  Mother!"  exelaiinttd  he,  towering  his  tiice   >Tith 
his  hands. 

Behind  the  portiere  tliere  was  the  faint  sound  of  a  mocking  huigh,  but 
neither  mother  nor  son  heard  it.  They  heard  naught  but  the  insi^flfer- 
ablc  throbs  of  their  own  heart ;  they  saw  each  one,  naught  but  the  death 
like  face  of  the  other. 

"  Yes,  it  is  your  unhappy  mother,  she  who  once  vowed  never  ogaiivto 
cross  your  threshold — But  maternity  is  merciful.  Car],  and  I  come  hither 
to  pardon  and  to  rescue  you,  while  yet  there  is  time  for  flight." 

The  young  Count  made  no  reply.  At  the  astounding  revelation  made 
by  the  dropping  of  that  black  veil,  he  had  retreated  in  mingled  shame, 
and  surprise.  He  had  accosted  his  own  mother  in  the  language  of  liber- 
tinism, and  he  stood  gazing  upon  her  with  looks  of  sorrow  and  regret.  He 
had  scarcely  heard  her  speak,  so  absorbed  was  he  in  self-reproach,  and 
now  as  she  ceased,  he  murmured, 

"  Is  that  my  mother  !  My  mother  with  the  wrinkled  brow  and  the 
white  hair!" 

The  Countess  returned  his  gaze  with  a  mournful  smile.  "  You  have 
not  seen  me  for  two  years,  Carl,  and  since  then  sorrow  has  transformed 
me  into  an  old  woman.  1  need  not  tell  you  why  I  have  sorrowed.  Oh, 
my  child  !  Whence  comes  the  gold  with  which  this  fearful  splendor  is 
purchased  1     Your  fiither " 

"My  father!"  echoed  the  Count,  recalled  to  self  possession  by  the 
word.  "What  am  I  to  him,  who  cursed  me  and  forbade  me  his  house. 
Tell  him,"  cried  he  fiercely,  "  that  if  I  am  lost,  it  is  he  who  shall  answer 
to  heaven  for  my  t^oul !"' 

"Peace!"  exclaimed  the  mother  in  a  tone  of  authority.  "Nor  at- 
tempt to  shift  your  disgrace  upon  hini  who  has  been  not  the  cause  of 
your  crimes,  but  their  victim.  Why  did  he  curse  you,  reprobate,  tell 
me  why !" 

The  Count  was  ^  awed  by  her  words  and  looks  that  he  obeyed  almost 
instinctively. 

"  Because  I  had  forged,"  was  the  whispered  reply. 

"Yes — forged  your  father's  name  for  a  million,  and  forced  him  for  the 
honor  of  his  house  to  sell  all  that  he  possessed."  We  are  so  pgor  that  we 
have  scarcely  the  necessaries  of  life ;  nevertheless,  we  have  borne  in  si- 
lence the  contufncly  of  the  world  that  scorns  us  as  misers.  And  now, 
although  you  have  nothing  to  inherit,  we  hear  of  your  wealth,  the  mag- 
nificence of  your  house,  of  your  unbounded  expenditure!" 

"  Yes,!^-) other,"  replied  the  Count,  beginning  to  recover  from  his  shock, 
"it  is  plain  that  I  have  discovered  a  treasure — somewhere." 

"Then  you  will  have  to  e.xplain  the  natureof  your  discovery,  for  your 
father  is  about  to  reveal  the  state  of  his  affairs  to  the  world." 

"If  he  does  that,  (  am  lost,"  cried  Podstadsky  in  tones  of  despair. 

"Ah  !" — gasped  the  unhappy  mother,  ^  Then  we  were  right  in  fearing 
that  your  woa!th   was  ill-gotten.     Oh,  Carl,   look  into  the  face  of  i\w 


.  ."  li.-  lU'H    iHK   SECUNU. 

mother   who*  bore  ;)(0U,  and   has  loved   you  beyond  all  things  earthly! 
Look  into  her  /acp,  an<^  say  whence  coroes  this  magnificerice  !" 

The  Count  tried  to  laise  bis  eyes,  hi.it  he  could  not  meet  his  mother's 
glance.  Alas,  he  remernl.ieied  how  oi'ten  in  childhood  after  some  trifl- 
ing misconduct,  he  had  looked  into  those  lovinjj  eyes,  and  read  forgive- 
ness there  !— 

The  mother  trembled,  and  eould  scarcely  support  her  limbs.  Sher 
caught  at  a  chair,  and  leaned  upon  it  for  a  moment.  Then,  with  falter- 
ing stepd  vshe  approached  her  son,  and  raised  his  head  with  her  own  hands. 
It  was  a  touching  scene,  and  Count  Podstadsky  himself  was  not  un- 
moved by  its  silent  eloquence.  His  heart  beat  audiblj',  and  his  eyes 
tilled  with  repentant  tears. 

"  Tell  rae,  child,  tell  me  whence  conies  your  wealth.  I  will  not  betray 
you,  for  I  am  your  unhappy  mother !" 

"  You  can  do  nothing  for  me  mother,"  sobbed  the  Count.  "  I  am  lost 
beyond  power  of  redemption." 

"Alas  !  Alas!  Then  you  are  guilty  !  But,  Carl,  I  will  not  ask  you 
any  qaestions — only  let  me  sate  you  from  public  disgrace.  Your  father 
is  inexorable — ^but  1  can  save  you,  my  beloved  child,  I  will  leave  home 
—country — name — everything  for  your  sake,  even  the  husband  of  my 
life-long  love.  Com.e,  my  son — let  us  go  together  where  no  one  shall 
ever  hear  your  story,  and  where  with  the  grace  of  God  you  may  repent 
of  your  sins,  and  amend." 

The  strength  of  her  love  lent  such  eloquence  to  the  words  of  the  Count- 
ess, that  her  son  was  borne  away  by  the  force  of  her  pleadings. 

"  Oh,  my  mother,  if  I  could — if  I  could — "  but  here  his  voice  faltered, 
and  the  tears  which  he  had  been  striving  to  keep  back  gushed  out  in  tor- 
rents.    He  covered  his  face  with  his  hands,  and  sobbed  aloud.  , 

His  mother  smiled  and  made  a  silent  thanksgiving  to  heaven.  "  God 
will  accept  your  tears,  my  dear  prodigal  child  ;  come,  ere  it  be  too  late. 
S«e,  I  have  gold.  My  family  diamonds  have  yielded  enough  to  main- 
tain us  in  Switzerland.     There,  among  its  solitudes—" — " 

'  A  clear,  musical  laugh  was  heard,  and  the  melodious  voice  of  a  woman 
spoke  these  scornful  words. 

"  Count  Podstadsky  a  peasant !  a  Swiss  peasant !  Ha,  ha  !"•  The 
old  Countess  turned  and  saw  coming  from  the  boudoir,  a  vision  of  such 
beauty  as  dazzled  her  eyes.  The  vision  came  forward  smiling,  and 
Podstadsky  dashing  away  his  tears,  passed  in  one  instant  from  the 
heights  of  saving  repentance,  to  the  unfathomable  depths  of  hopeless 
obduracy. 

The  two  women,  meanwhile,  faced  each  other,  the  one  lauding,  tri- 
umphant, beautiful  alas !  as  Circe ;  the  other  pale,  sorrowful  as  the 
i^uardian  angel  of  the  soul  which  has  just  been  banished  from  the  pre- 
sence of  God  forever  ! 

"  Pray,  Carlo,  introduce  me  to  your'  mother,"  said  Arabella.  "Yon 
are  not  yet  a  Swiss  peasant.  Pending  your  metamorphosis,  be  a  little 
more  observant  of  the  conventions  and  courtesies  of  high  life  !" 


EMl'KKOK    i)K    At  81K1  \ 


'-.She.ltiis  been  eaves-dropping i'' exclaimed  tlie  Cjjur.tess  Podtlad.sk v, 
•  coiUcmptuouSlj.  ,  . 

"  Yes,"  f;;iid  Ara,hclla,  vitli  perfect  equanimity,  "I  have  Cn joyed tlie 
privilt'fic  of  witnessing  this  charming  scene.  You,  iiYadiUii,  h;!v'e  acted 
ii)Conjp!uably,  but  }our  son  has  not  snsiaine.dl'yitu.  The  role  you  have 
given  him  is  inappropriate.  To  ask  of  him  to  play  the  repentant  sinner 
is  simply  ridieiilous.  Count  Podstads^ky  is  a gi'ntleman,  and  has.  r.o 
taste  for  Idyls." 

"  Who  is  this  womanT'  asked  the  old  Countes^. 

Her  son  had  regained  all  his  aelfpo^sossion  again.  Tie  approached 
Arabella,  and  taking  her  hand,  led  her  directly  up  to  his  luothvr. 

"  My  mother,  I  b;-g  to  present  to  you  the  Countess  Baillou,  the  la<ly- 
patroness  of  the  b^ll  1  give  to-night." 

The  Old  Countess  paid  no  atteution  to  Arabella's  deep  curtsey.  She 
was  too  much  in  earnest  to  heed  her. 

"  Will  you  corae,  Carl  ? — Every  moment  is  precious." 

"My  dear  lady,"  exclaimed  Arabella,  "you  forget  that  not  only  the 
aristocracy  of  Vienna,  but  the  Emperor  himself  is  to  be  your  son's  guest 
to  night." 

"  Do  not  listen  to  her,  my  son,"  cried  the  wretched  mother.  *'  Her 
voice  is  the  voice  of  the  evil  spirit  that  would  lure  you  on  to  destruc- 
tion.— Carl — Carl  !"  cried  she,  laying  her  vigorous  grasp  upon  his  arm — 
"  be  not  so  irresolute  !     Come,  and  prove  yourself  to  be  a  man!" 

"Aye  !  interposed  Arabella,"  "  be  a  man  Carl,  and  suffer  no  old  woman 
to  come  under  your  owu  roof,  and  chide  you  as  if  you  were  her  naughtv 
boy.  What  business,  pray,  is  it  of  this  lady's,  where  you  gather  your 
riches  1  And  what  to  the  distinguished  C^^unt  Podstad.sky,  are  the  clam- 
ors of  two  unnatural  parents,  who  have  long  since  lost  all  claim  to  his 
respect  ?" 

"Carl,  Carl!"  shrieked  the  mother,  "  Do  not  heed  her.  She  is  an 
evil  spirit.     Come  with  rac!'' 

There  was  a  pause.  Arabella  raised  her  starry  eyes,  and  fixed  them 
with  an  expression  of  passionate  love  upon  the  Count.  That  simulated 
look  sealed  his  fate. 

"  No,  mother,  no  !  Importune  me  no  longer,  for  I  will  not  leave  Vi- 
enna.    Enough  of  this  trage-coipedy — Leave  me  in  peace." 

Arabella  flung  him  u,  Iciss  from  the  tips  of  her  rosy  fingers.  *'  Spoken 
like  a  man,  at  last,"  said  she* 

For  awhile,  not  a  word  was  heard  in  that  gorgeous  room,  where  the 
chandeliers  flung  their  full  red  glare  upon  the  group  below.  The  white- 
haired  mother — the  recusant  son — the  beautiful  enchantress,  whose 
black  art  had  just  sundered  them  forever !  , 

At  length  she  spoke,  that  broken-heartpd  mother,  and  her  voice  was 
hollow  as  a  sound  from  the  grave,  "  Thou  hast  chosen.  God  would 
have  rescued  thee,  but  thou  hast  turned  nway  from  His  merciful  wiirn- 
ing!     Farewell,  unhappy  one,  farewell  !" 

She  wrapped  her  dark  mantle  around  her,  and  concealed  her  fucea^ain 


40  (OSKPfi    THK   SKCONIi. 

in  the  veil.  Her  son  dared  not  offer  his  hand,  for  evil  eyes  were  upon 
him,  and  he  allowed  her  to  deparr,  without  a  word.  Slowly  she  travers- 
ed the  scene  of  sinful  splendor,  her  tall,  dark  figure  reflected  from  mirror 
to  mirror  as  she  went,  and  before  the  recedinij  vision  of  that  crushed  and 
despairing  mother,  the  lights  above  seemed  to  pale,  and  the  gilding  of 
those  rich  saloons  grew  dim  arid  spectral. 

Farther  and  farther  she  went,  Podstadsky  gazing  after  her,  while 
Arabella  gazed  upon  him.  She  reached  the  last  door,  and  he  started  as 
if  to  follow.  His  tempter  drew  him  firmly  back,  and  calmed  his  agi- 
tation with  her  magic  Smile. 

"  Stay,  beloved,"  said  she  tenderly.  "  From  this  hour,  I  shall  be 
mother,  mistress,  friend-^all  things  to  you." 

He  clasped  her  passionately  tu  his  heart,  sobbing,  "  I  wish  for  nothing 
on  earth  but  your  love — the  love  which  will  'follow  me,  even  to  the 
scaffold." 

"  Pshaw !"  exclaimed  Arabella,  "  what  an  ugly  word  to  whisper  to  these 
beautiful  rooms  !  Look  here.  Carlo, — the  diamonds  we  own  in  common 
are  worth  half  a  million.  We  must  do  a  good  business  to-night.  When 
the  Emperor  has  retired,  the  hostess  will  have  a  right  to  preside  over 
the  farotable,  and  you  know  that  my  cards  never  betray  me." 

"  I  know  it,  my  enchantress,"  cried  Carlo,  kissing  her.  "  Let  us  make 
haste  and  grow  rich.  1  would  go  anywhere  with  you,  were  it  even  to 
Switzerland." 

"Rut  not  as  a  peasant.  Carlo — First,  however,  we  must  have  our 
millions.  Now,  be-reasonable  to-night,  and  don't  play  the  Italian  lover. 
Colonel  Szekuly  is  desperately  enamored  of  me,  and  he  will  be  sure  to 
sit  ne.\t  to  me  at  the  faro-table.  The  place  he  covets  shall  cost  him  a 
fortune." 

At  that  moment  the  steward  entered  the  room.  "  A  message  from 
the  Emperor,  my  lady."  , 

"What  can  it  be  r  " 

"  His  Majesty  regrets  that  he  cannot  keep  his  engagement  this  eve- 
ning with  Count  Podstadsky." 

"  This  is  a  disappointment.  What  else  V  asked  the  Countess  as  the 
servant  still  stood  there. 

"  Several  other  excuses,  my  lady.  The  two  Princesses  Lichtenstein, 
Countess  Thun,  and  Princess  Esterhazy  also,  have  sent  apologies." 

"  Very  well,  Duval.     Go,  for  the  guests  will  be  coming," 

The  steward  went,  and  the  pair  looked  at  each  other  in  anxious  silence. 
Both  were  pale,  both. were  frightened. 

"  What  can  it  mean  1     What  can  it  mean  ?"  faltered  the  Countess. 

*'  What  can  it  meanl"  echoed  the  Count,  and  he  started,  for  again  he 
thought  that  he  saw  his  mother's  shadow  darkening  the  splendor  of  those 
princely  halls,  whose  lights  were  flickering  as^  though  they  wereaboutto 
be  extinguished  and  leave  the -guilty  accomplices  in  irretrievable  dark- 
ness. 

"  Arabella,  somethiftg  threatens  us,"  whispered  Podstadsky. 


fiMl'KKOK    OF    AUSTRIA  41 

"Nonsense!  Our  guests  are  arriving,"  said  she  rallying.  "Cour- 
ago,  Carlo,  courage !  A  smooth  brow  ai,d  bright  smiles  for  the  aristo- 
cratic world,  Count  Podstadsky  !" 

The  doors  opened  and  crowds  of  splendid  women,  accompanied  by 
their  cavaliers,  floated  in  towards  the  lady-patroness,  who  received  them 
all  with  bewitching- grace  and  won  all  hearts  by  her  ^fiitbillty. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

THE  TWO  OATHS. 

"  Already  beloved  ?  Think  that  for  three  long  weeks  I  have  noC 
seen  you,  Giinther  !  It  is  so  early — no  one  misses  me  in  the  house,  for 
my  father  returns  from  his  bank  at  iline  only.  Who  knows  when  Vie 
shall  meet  again !" 

"To-morrow,  my  Rachel,  if  you  permit  me  to  return,  and  evet-y 
morning  at  this  hour  I  shall  be  here  behind  the  grove,  waiting  for  my 
angel  to  unlock  the  gates  of  Paradise  and  admit  me  to  the  heaven  of 
her  presence." 

"  Oh,  I  will  surely  come  !  Nor  storm  nor  rain  shall  deter  me.  Here 
in  this  pavilion  we  are  secure  from  curious  eyes.  God  who  blesses  our 
love,  alone  shall  see  into  our  hearts  !" 

"  Oh,  Racljel,  how  I  honor  and  love  your  energetic  soul !  When  I 
am  with  you,  1  fear. nothing.  But  away  from  the  influence  of  those  an- 
gelic eyes,  I  tremble  and  grow  faint." 

"What  do  you  fear,  Giinther?" 

"  The  pride  of  riches,  Rachel.  Your  father  would  laugh  me  to  scorn 
were  he  ,.o  hear  that  his  peerless  daughter  is  loved  by  a  man  without 
rank  or  fortune." 

"  But  whose  heart  has  a  patent  of  nobility  from  God,"  exclaimed  Ra- 
chel with  enthusiasm.  "  And  besides,  Giinther,  are  you  not  a  confiden- 
tial friftnd  of  the  Emperor  V 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Giinther  bitterly,  "  The  Emperor  calls  me  '  friend,' 
and  in  'grateful  acknowledgement  of  my  services,'  he  has  raised  my  sal- 
ary to  three  thousand  florins.  But  what  is  that  to  your  father,  who'pays 
twice  the  an^ount  to  his  bookkeeper.  Why  are  you  the  daughter  of  a 
man  whose  wealth  reflects  discredit  upon  my  love!" 

"  No  cfce  who  looks  into  your  noble  face  will  ever  suspect  the  purity 
of  your  love,  dear  Giinther.  But,  alas  !  my  lover,  there  is  an  obstacle 
greater  than  wealth  to  part  us— the  obstacle  of  your  cruel  Faith  which, 
does  not  permit  the  Christian  to  wed  with  the  Jew." 


42  10Si:!'H    riiK  SEfON'D. 

'■•  If  }0U  were  poor,  my  iJaqhel,  I  would  t,ry  to  win  yon  over  from  the 
Jewish  God  of  vengeance  to  the  merciful  God  of  the  Christian,  Would 
]  could  bring  such  an  offering  to  Jesus  as  that  of  your  pure  young  heart."' 

"  My  father  would  die  were  Uto  renounce  my  failh,"  said  Raohel  sud- 
denly growing  sad.     "  But  before  he  died,  he  would  curse  me." 

'•How  cahnly  you  speak,  and  yet  your  words  are  the  death-warrant 
of  my  hopes  !"  e.vclaimed  Giinther  despairingly. 

"  I  speak  calmly  because  1  have  long  since  resolved  never,  to  be  the 
wife  of  another  man,''  replied  Rachel.  "'•  If  I  must  choose  between  fath- 
er and  lover,  I  follow  you.  If  my  father  drives  me  from  his  home,  then 
Gunther,  I  will  come  and  seek  shelter  upon  your  faithful  heart." 

"And  you  shall  find  it  there,  my  own  one  ! — I  dare  not  call  you  be- 
loved ;*but  oh  !  I  await  with  longing  the  hour  of  your  coming — the 
hour  when  of  your  own  free-will  your  little  hand  shall  be  laid  in  mine, 
to  journey  with  me  from  earth  to  heaven  t  Adieu,  sweetest.  I  go,  but 
my  soul  remains  behind." 

"And  mine  goes  with  you,"  replied  Rachel.  He  clasped  her  in  his 
arms,  and  over  and  over  again  imprinted  his  passionate  kisses  upon  her 
willing  lips. 

"  To-morrow,"  whispered  she.  "  Here  is  the  key  of  the  gate.  J  shall 
be  in  the  pavilion." 

Again  he  turned  to  kiss  her,  and  so  they  parted.  Rachel  watched  his 
tall,  graceful  figure  until  it  was  hidden  by  the  trees,  then  she  cjasped  her 
hands  in  prayer. 

"  Oh,  God,  bless  and  protect  our  love  !  Shelter  us  from  evit^  but  if  it 
must  come,  grant  me  strength  to  bear  it !" 

Slowly  and  thoughtfully  she  returned  to  the  house.  Her  heart  was 
.so  filled  with  thoughts  of  her  lover  that  she  did  not  see  the  stirring  of 
■the  blind,  through  which  her  father's  dark  angry  eyes  had  witnessed 
their  meeting.  It  was  not  until  she  had  entered  her  room*that  she  awa- 
kened from  her  dream  of  bliss.  Its  splendor  recalled  her  senses,  and 
with  a  sob,  she  exclaimed, 

"  Why  am  I  not  a  beggar,  or  a  poor  Christian  child.  Anything — any- 
thing that  would  make  me  free  to  be  his  wMfe  !" 4 

She  ceased,  for  she  heard  her  fiither's  voice.  Yes — it  was  irrdeed  he  I 
How  came  he  to  be  at  home  so  soon  '?  His  hand  was  upon  the  door, 
and  now  he  spoke  to  her, 

"  Are  you  up,  my  daughter  1     Can  I  come  in  ?" 

Rachel  hastened  to  open  the  door,  and  her  father  entered  the  room 
with  a  bright  smile. 

"So  soon  dressed,  Rachel !  I  was  afraid  thai  I  might  have  disturbed 
your  slumbers,"  said  he,  drawing  her  to  him  and  kissing  her.  "  Not 
only  dressed,  but  dressed  so  charmingly  that  one  would  suppose  the  sua 
were  your  lover  and  had  already  visited  you  here.  Or  perhap;s  you  ex- 
pect some  of  your  adoring  Counts  this  morning — Hey  !" 

"  No,  father — •{  expect  no  one." 

■"^o  much  the  better,  for  I  have  glori5us  news  for  you.     Do  you  re- 


SMf'KRi'K     OF    AlSIIU>. 


inciuber  what  1  promised  when  you  consented  to  let  me  punish  Count 
Podsiadsky  after  my  ownjfiisliirm  ?" 

"  No,  dear  latlier,  I. do  not  remtrnber  ever  to  have  boon  bribedto  obey 
^our  commands. ' 

"Then,  1,  will  tell  you  my  news,  my  glorious  ncvcs.  I  have  become 
a  Freiherry 

"You  were  always  a  free  man  my  father;  your  millions  have  long 
ago  made  you  a  Frciherr''' 

"  Bravely  spoken,  my  Jewess,"  cried  Eskeles  Flies.  "  I  will  reward 
you  by  telling  you  what  I  have  bought  for  you.  A  carriage-load  of  illu- 
minated manuscripts,  decorated  with  e.\|{uisite  miniatui'-es,  so  that  you 
may  now  enrich  your  library  with  Christian  Bibles,  and /Papal  bulls  of 
every  size  and  fo^^v." 

"  Oh,  my  dear  father,  bovr  I  thank  you  for  these  treasures  !" 

"Treasures,  indeed  !  They  are  part  of  the  library  of  a  convent.  The 
Emperor  has  destroyed  them  as  the  Vandals  once  did  the  treasures  of 
the  Goths.  I  bought  them  from  one  of  our  o\vii  people — and  that  is  not 
all.  1  have  a  communion-service,  and  an  ost«nsorium  for  you  whose 
sculptures  are  worthy  of  Benvenuto  Celline.-  I  purchased  these  afso  from 
a  Jew,  who  bought  them  at  one  of  the  great  church-auctions.  Ila,  ha  ! 
He  was  g6ing  to  melt  them  up — the  vessels  that  Christiau  priests  had 
bliessed  and  held  saC^ed  !" 

"That  was  no  disgrace  to  him,  father,  but  it  is  far  difTerent  with  the 
Emperor,  who  has  desecrated  the  things  which  are'  esteemed  holy  in  his 
own  church.  The  Emperor  is  not  likely  to  win  the  affections  of  his  peo- 
ple by  acts  like  these." 

"Pshaw!  He  wanted  gold,  and  cared  very  little  whence  it  came," 
cried  Eskeles  Flies,  with  a  contemptuous  shrug.  •^'His  munificent  moth- 
er having  emptied  the  imperial  treasury,  the  prudent  sou  had  to  replen- 
ish it.  True — his  method  of  creating  a  fund  is  not  the  discreetest  he 
could  have  chosen  ;  for  while  teaching  his  people  new  modes  of  financier- 
ing, he  has  forgotten  that  he  is  also  teaching  them  to  pilfer  their  own 
Gods.  What  an  outcry  would  be  raised  in  Christendom,  if  the  Jew 
should  plunder  his  own  synagogue!  Bet  I  tell  you,  Rachel,  that  when 
the  lust  of  riches  takes  possession  of  a  Christian's  heait,  it  maddens  his 
brain.  Not  so  with  the  Jew — Were  he  starving,  he  would  never  sell 
the  Holy  of  Holies — But  the  Jew  never  starves — not  he  !  He  lays  du- 
cat upon  ducat  until  the  glistening  heap  dazzles  the  Christian's  eyes,  and 
he  comes  to  barter  his  wares  for  it.  So  is  it  with  me.  My  gold  has 
bought  for  me  the  merchandise  of  nobility." 

"Are  you  really  in  earnest  Hither?  Have  you  thought  it  necessary  to  add 
to  the  dignity  of  your  Jewish  birthright,  the  bauble  of  a  baron's  title?" 

"  Why  not,  Rachel  1  The  honor  is  saleable,  and  it  gives  one  consid- 
eration with  the  Christian.  I  have  bought  the  title,  and  the  escutcheon, 
as  1  buy  a  set  of  jewels  for  my  daughter.  Both  are  intfended  to  dazzle 
our  enemies,  and  to  excite  their  envy."  • 

"  But  how  came  it  to  pass  ?"  asked  Rachel.     "  How  came  you  to  ven- 


44  .  JO'SKF-n    IHE   SECONU. 

ture  such  an  imheacd-of  demand  1     A  Jewish  baron  is  an  auomoly  which 
the  world  has  never  seen." 

"  For  that  very  reason,  I  demanded  it  . ;  1  had  rendered  extraordinary 
services  to  the  Emperor.  He  sent  for  me  to  repay  me  the  millions  i 
had  lent  him  without  interest,  and  I  took  occasion  there,  to  speak  of  my 
thriving  manufactures,  and  my  great  commercial  schemes.  "Ah,"  said  he 
putting  his  hand  affeetionateiy  upon  my  shoulder,  (for  the  Emperor  loves 
a  rich  man,)  'Ah,  if  I  had  many  such  merchant-princes  as  you,  the  Black 
Sea  would  soon  be  covered  with  Austrian  ships.'  Then,  he  asked  what 
he  could  do  in  return  for  the  favor  I  had  done  him." 

"And  you  asked  for  a  Baron'e  title  V 

"I  did.  The  Emperor  opened  his  large  eyes,  and. looked  knowingly 
at  me.  He  had  gisessed  my  thoughts.  'So,'  said  h<i^  •/  you  would  like 
to  provoke  the  aristocracy  a  little,  would  you  1  Well — I  rather  like  the 
idea.  They  are  in  need  of  a  lesson  to  bring  down  their  rebellious  spirit, 
and  I  shall  give  it  to  them.  You  are  a  niore  useful  man  to  me  than  any 
of  them,  and  .you  shall  be  created  a  baron.  I  shall  also  elevate  several 
other  distinguished  Jews  to  the  rank  of  noble",  and  the  aristocracy  shall 
understtmd  tiaat  wherever  1  fuid  merit,  I  reward  it,'  " 

"  So  then  it  was  your  worth,  and  not  your  gold  that  earned  for  you 
the  distinction !"  cried  Rachel,  gratified. 

"  Nonsense  !  'Merit,'  means  wealth,  and  I  assure  you-that  titles  cost 
■enormous  sums.  I  must  pay  for  my  patent  ten  thousand  flofins,  and  if 
.1  should  wish  to  be  a  Count,  I  must  pay  twenty  thousand — But  enough 
of  all  this.  Suffice  it  that  I  shall  prove  to  the  nobles  that  my  money  ^ 
as  good  as  their  geneological  trees,  and  now  we  shall  have  crowds  of  no- 
ble adorers  at  the  Baroness  Rachel's  feet.  But  be  she  Baroness  or  Count- 
ess, she  is  forever  a  Jipvess,  and  that  parts  her  eternally  from  any  but  a 
wooer  of  her  own  faith.  Does  it  not,  my  Rachel,  my  loyal  Isarelitish 
Baroness  ?" 

"  Do  you  doubt.jne,  my  father]"  asked  Rachel  in  a  faltering  voice, 
■while  she  averted  her  face. 

"No,  my  child,  for  if  I  did,  I  would  curse  you  on  the  spot." 

"Dear,  dear  fother,  do  not  speak  such  fearful  words,"  cried  Rachel, 
.trembling  with  fright. 

"  You  are  right,  child.  I  am  childish  to  indulge  the  supposition  of  my 
Hebrew  maiden's  treachery.  She  is  pure  before  the  Lord,  loyal  and 
true  to  the  faith  of  her  fathers.  But  we  must  be  armed  against  tempta- 
tion ;  and  now,  before  we  part  for  the  day,  we  shall  both  swear  eternal 
fidelity  to  our  creed.  These  wily  Christians  may  come  with  flattery 
and  smiles,  and  some  one  of  them  might  steal  my  Rachel's  heart.  I 
swear,  therefore,  by  all  that  is  sacred  on  earth,  or  in  heaven,  never  to 
abtindon  the  Jewish  faith,  and  never  to  enter  a  Christian  church.  So 
ihelp  me  God !" 

Rachel  was  gazing  upon  her  fiither  with  blanched  cheeks,  and  distend- 
ed eyes,  her  muscles  stiffening  with  horror,  until  she  seemed  to  be  turn- 
nig  to  .,stone. 


aMPEROR   OF    ATSTRIA.  45 

**  Did  you  hear  my  oath,  Rachel  ?"  said  he. 

She  parted  her  lips,  and  ihpy  faltered  an  inaudible  "  yes."  "Then," 
said  he  gently,  "  repeat  the  oath,  for  we  both  must  t.ike  it."  She  raised 
hei-  head  with  a  quick,  convulsive  motion,  and  stammered,  "  What^- 
what  is  it,  father?" 

"Swear  as  I  have  done,  never  to  leave  the  faith  of  your  fathers,  and 
never  to  enter  a  Christian  church." 

Eachel  made  no  reply.  She  stared  again  as  though  her  senses  were 
forsaking  her.     She  thought  she  would  go  mad. 

Her  Aither's  brow  contracted,  and  his  mien  grew  fierce,  as  he  saw  that 
his  daughtf'r's  heart  had  gone  irrevocably  from  him.  There  was  a  long, 
dreadful  pause. 

"Are  you  at  a  loss  for  words'?"  asked  the  Baron  ;  and  his  voice  was 
so  savage,  that  Rachel  started  at  the  ominous  sound. 

'•  liepcat  ray  words  then,"  continued  he,  seeing  that  she  made  no  an- 
swer, or  I "  % 

"  Say  on,  my  fjither,"  replied  the  despairing  girl. 

Baron  Eskeles  Flies  repeated  his  oath,  and  the  pale  victim  spoke  the 
words  after  him.  But  at  the  end  of  the  ordeal,  she  reeled,  and  fell  to 
the  floor. 

Her  fathej  bent  over  and  raising  her  tenderly,  folded  her  to  his  heart. 
His  voice  was  now  as  loving  as  ever. 

'*  My  precious  child,  we  are  truly  united  now.  Nothing  can  part  us, 
and  your  happy  father  will  surround  you  with  such  splendor  as  you  have 
never  beheld  before." 

"  Oh,  my  father  I"  exclaimed  she,  "  what  has  splendor  to  do  with  hap- 
piness '?" 

'♦  Everything,"  replied  her  father  with  a  careless  laugh.  "  Misfortune 
is  not  near  so  ugly  in  a  palace  as  in  a  cottage ;  and  1  do  assure  you 
that  the  tears  which  are  shed  in  a  softly-cushioned  carriage,  are  not  half 
so  bitter  as  those  that  fall  from  the  eyes  of  the  houseless  beggar. 
Wealth  takes  the  edge  from  affliction  and  lends  new  lustre  to  happiness 
— And  it  shall  shed  its  brightest  halo  over  yours,  my  daughter.  But 
I  must  leave  you,  for  I  expect  to  earn  a  fortune  before  I  return,  when  I 
hope  to  see  you  bright  and  beautiful  as  ever." 

He  kissed  her  forehead  and  stroked  her  silky  hair.  "  The  Baroness 
Rachel  will  be  a  Jewess  forever !  Oh,  how  1  thank  you  for  that  prom- 
ise, my  adored  child!  What  new  pleasure  can  I  procure  for  my  idol 
today  1" 

"  Love  me,  father,"  murmured  Rachel. 

"  What  need  you  ask  for  love,  you  who  are  to  me  like  the  breath  of 
life?  To  show  how  I  anticipate  your  wishes,  I  have  already  prepared 
a  gratification  for  you.  I  have  remarked  how  much  pleasure  you 
take  in  the  gardens  and  little  pavilion  yonder.  Since  my  Rachel  loves 
to  take  her  morning  walk  there,  it  shall  be  changed  into  a  paradise.  The 
brightest  fruits  and  flowers  of  the  tropics  shall  bloom  in  its  conservato- 
ries, and  instead  of  the  little  pavilion,  I  shall  raise  up  a  temple  of  purest 


4()  JOSEPH   THli  S£(JOi\U. 

white  marble,  worthy  of  the  nymph  who  hauiils  the  spot.  Yov  a  lew- 
weeks  your  walks  will  be  somewhat  disturbed,  darling,  for  the  workmen 
will  begin  to-morrow  ;  but  they  need  not  be  much  in  your  way,  for 
while  the  walls  are  down,  I  shall  set  a  watch  at  every  gate  to  make  sure 
that  no  one  intrudes  upon  your  privacy,  in  a  few  months  v. )u  shall 
have  a  miniature  palace  wherein  to  rest  when  you  are  tired  of  roaiping 
about  the  grounds.  Farewell,  my  child.  I  shall  send  the  workmen  to- 
morrow— early  to-morrow  morning." 

"  He  knows  all,"  thought  poor  Rachel,  as  he  closed  the  door.  "  The 
oath  was  to  part  me  from  Giiniher,  the  changes  in  the  garden  are  to  pre- 
vent us  from  meeting." 

For  a  long  time  she  sat  absorbed  in  grief.  But  finally  she  made  her 
resolve. 

"  I  have  sworn  to  love  thee  forever,  my  Giinther,"  said  she.  *'  When 
the  hour  comes  wherein  my  choice  must  be  made,  I  go  with  thee !", 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

NEW-FASHIONED  OBSEQUIES. 

The  Emperor's  horse  was  saddled,  and  he  was  about  to  takcTiis  daily 
ride.  But  as  he  was  leaving  his  cabinet,  a  page  announced  Field-mar- 
shal Lacy. 

"  Admit  him,"  said  Joseph,  and  he  hastened  to  the  ante-room  to  greet 
his  favorite. 

Lacy  received  the  cordial  greeting  of  the  Emperor  with  a  grave,  trou- 
bled expression. 

"  Sire,"  said  he,  "  may  I  beg  for  an  audience  V 

"  Certainly,  my  friend,"  replied  Joseph.  "lam  just  about  to  ride, 
and  you  can  accompany  me.  We  can  converse  together  in  some  of  the 
shady  alleys  of  the  park.     I  will  order  a  horse  for  you  at  once." 

"  Pardon  me,  sire,  our  interview  must  be  here.  I  saw  your  Majesty's 
horse  in  readiness  for  your  ride,  but  that  did  not  prevent  me  from  com- 
ing ;  for  the  matter  which  brought  me  hither  is  one  of  supreme  im- 
portance." 

''  And  you  cannot  put  it  off  until  we  take  our  ride  ?" 

"  Sire,  my  first  request  is  that  your  Majesty  will  relinquish  the  ride 
altogether.     You  must  not  be  seen  in  the  streets  to-day." 

"  Bless  me,  Lacy,  you  speak  as  if  I  were  Louis  of  France,  who  is  afraid 
to  show  himself  in  public  because  of  the  murmurs  6f  his  discontented 
subjects."    J 


EMPKKlll.     OK    Al.SJCrA.     4  t7 

"  Sire,  assiiine  that  you  are  Louis  then,  and  give  up  the  ride.  Do  it, 
if  you  love  me,  my  Sovereign."  '^ 

"  If  I  love  you  I"  repeated  Joseph  \vith  surprise.  "Well,  then,  it 
shall  be  done."  x\nd  he  rang  and  ordered  his  horse  to  be  put  up.  "Now 
speak.  What  can  have  happened  here,  that  i  shall  be  threatened  with 
a  discontented  mob?" 

"■Sire,"  began  Lacy,  "you  remember  the  day  on  which  we  swore  to 
speak  the  truth  to  your  Majesty,  even  if  it  should  become  importunate. 
]Jo  you  not?" 

'•  Yes,  I  do,  Lacy  ;  but  neither  of  you  have  kept  the  promise  up  to 
this  time." 

"  I  am  here  to  redeem  my  word,  sire.  I  come  to  warn  your  Majesty 
that  you  are  proceeding  too  rashly  with  your  measures  of  reform." 

"  And  you  als(\,Lacy  !'  cried  Joseph"  reproachfully.  "  You,  the  bra- 
vest of  the  brave,  would  have  me  retreat  bcfoi'e  the  dissatisfaction  of 
priests  and  bigots." 

"  The  malcontents  are  not  only  priests  and  bigots,  they  are  your  whole 
people.     You  attempt  too  many  reforms  at  once." 

'S  But  my  reforms  .are  all  for  the  people's  good.  1  am  no  tyrant  to 
oppress  and  trample  them  under  foot.  1  am  doing  my  best  to  free  them 
from  the  shackles  of  prejudice,  and  yet  they  harrassand  oppose  me. 
Even  those  who  understand  my  aims,  place  obstacles  in  my  path.  Oh, 
Lacy,  it  wounds  me  to  see  that  not  even  my  best  friends  sustain  me  !" 

I  see  that  your  Majesty  is  displeased,"  replied  Lacy  sadly,  "and  that 
y-ou  reckon  me  among  your  opponents — 1  who  am  struck  with  admira- 
tion at  the  grandeur  of  your  conceptions.  Rut  you  are  so  filled  with  the 
rectitude  of  your  intentions  that  you  have  no  indulgence  for  the  weak- 
ness and  ignorance  of  those  whom  you  would  bcnelit,  and  you  make  too 
light  of  the  enmity  of  those  whom  your  reforms  have  aggrieved."        ' 

"  Whom  have  I  aggrieved  ?"'  cried  Joseph  impatiently.  "  Priests  and 
nobles,  nobody  besides.  If  ^ have  displeased  them,  it  is  because  I  wish 
to  put  all  men  on  an  equality.  The  privileged  classes  may  hate  me — 
let  them  do  it, — but  the  people  whom  I  befriend,  will  love  and  honor 
me." 

"  Ah,  sire,  you  think  too  well  of  the  people,"  said  Lacy.  "  And  mind- 
ful of  my  promise,  I  must  say  that  you  have  given  cause  for  dissatisfac- 
tion to  all  classes,  plebian  as  well  as  patrician." 

"  How  so  ?"  cried  Joseph. 

"  You  have  despised  their  prejudices,  and  mocked  at  customs  which 
in  their  superstitious  ignorance  they  hold  as  sacred.  They  do  not  thank 
you  for  enlightening  them.  They  call  you  an  unbeliever  and  an*  apos- 
tate. Do  not  be  displeased,  sire",  if  1  speak  so  plainly  of  things  which 
the  stupidity  of  your  subjects  regards  as  a  crime.  I  come' as  your  Ma- 
jesty's accuser,  because  1  come  as  the  advocate  of  your  people,  implo- 
ring you  to  be  patient  with  their  blindness  and  their  folly." 

"  What  now  1     Is  there  any  special  complaint  against  me  ?" 

"  Yes,  sire.     Your  Majesty  has  issued  an  edict  which  has  wounded 


48  %     JOSEPH  THE  SECOND. 

the  people  in  those  relations ^which  the  world  holds  sacred — an  edict 
which  is — (forgive  me  if  I  speak  plainly) — which  is — so  entirely — free 
from  prejudice,  that  it  trenches  almost — upon  the  limits  of  barbarism." 

"  What  edict  can  you  mean  ?" 

"  That  which  concerns  the  burial  of  the  dead,  sire.  1  beseech  you,  re- 
volte  it ;  for  the  people  cry  out  that  nothing  is  sacred  to  the  ^Emperor 
— not  even  death  and  the  grave  ! — Leave  them  their  cemeteries  and  their 
tombs,  that  they  may  go  thither  and  pray  for  the  souls  of  the  de- 
parted !" 

"  That  they  may  go  thither  and  enjoy  their  superstitious  rites  !"  cried 
Joseph  indignantly.  "  1  will  not  allow  my  subjects  to  seek  for  their 
dead  underground.  They  shall  not  solemnize  the  corruption  of  the  body; 
they  shall  turn  their  eyes  to  heaven  and  there  seiek  for  the  immortal 
spirits  of  the  gleparted  !  They  shall  not  love  the  du|t  of  their  forefa- 
thers, but  their  souls !" 

"Sire,  you  speak  of  an  ideal  people.  To  bring  mankind  to  such  a 
state  of  perfection,  would  require  the  reign  of  a  Methusaleh!  It  is  too 
soon  for  such  edicts^     The  people,  so  far  from  appreciating,  abhor  them." 

"  Are  you  really  in  earnest,  Lacy  ?"  exclaimed  the  Emperor  with 
flashing  eyes. 

"Yes,  sire, -they  are  indignant.  Yesterday  the  first  burial  according 
to  your. Majesty's  edict,  took  place,  and  since  then  the  people  are  in  a 
state  of  revolt.  To-day  there  are  of  course  other"  bodies  to  be  interred. 
There  is  not  a  vagrant  in  the  streets  who'  does  not  utter  threats  against 
your  Majesty.  From  the  burgher  to  the  beggar,  every  man  feels  that 
his  sacred  rights  have  been  invaded.  They  feel  that  the  prohibition  of 
c6ffins  and  burying  grounds  does  not  reach  the  rich,  who  have  their  he- 
reditary tombs  in  churches  and  chapels,  but  the  people  who  have  no 
such  privileges." 

"The  people  for  whose  sakes  I  would  have  converted  the  mould  of 
the  burying-ground  into  fertile  fields,  and  scared  them  the  cost  of  a  use- 
less coffin,  which  instead  of  rotting  in  the  ground,  would  have  been  .so 
much  more  wood  to  warm  them  in  winter,  and  cook  the  food  for,  their 
hungry,  living  bodies  !" 

"  But,  your  Majesty,  they  are  not  sufficiently  enlightened  to  compre- 
hend your  ideas.  Revoke  the  order,  sire,  in  mercy  to  their  ignorance, 
revoke  the  order !" 

"  Revoke  it !"  cried  Joseph  furiously.  "  Never  will  I  make  such  a 
concession  to  stupidity  and  malice !" 

,"  Then,"  said  Lacy  gravely,  "  it  is  possible  that  the  flames  of  a.  revo- 
lution^may  burst  forth  to  consume  this  unhappy  land.  Oh,  sire,  have 
mercy  upon  the  poor  people  whose  eyes  cannot  endure  the  light  of  re- 
form !  Preserve  yourself  and  your  subjects  from  the  horrbrs  of  a  revolt, 
which,  although  .it  would  be  ultimately  quelled,  might  cost  bloodshed 
and  misery  !  I  have  never  seen  such  excitement  as  prevails  throughout 
the  streets  of  Vienna.  Thousands  of  men  and  ^fomen  throng  the  quar- 
ter where  the  body  lies." 


£VU'KI.<1K     (IK    AUblKlA,  4.9 

"When  docs  Abe  funeral  take  place  i" 

"At  three  o'clock  l his  attonmon,  tire." 

"  In  one  hour  then,"  said  the  Emperor,  ylai^icg  at  the  clock. 

"  Yes,  ;>iie,  an<)  it  may  bo  an  hour  of  irihulalion.  iiiilessyour  Mnjesty 
has  the  magnanimity  to  prevent  it!  To  discoursiie  idle  as3embla<.re<, 
your  Majesty  has  fbrbi<lilen  the  people  to  ibllow.  tunerals;.  The  eireet 
of  this  prohibition  is,  that  the  poor  woman  who  is  lo  be  buried  this  af- 
ternoon will  be  ftjUowed,  not  by  her  friends,  but  by  thousands  who  hare 
never  seen  or  known  her.  The  police  have  done  their  besti  to  disperse 
the  rioters,  but  so  fur,  in  vain." 

"Then  there  is  already  a  revolt!"  cried  the  Emperor. 

*'But  for  this  I  shonld  never  have  presumed  to~  deter  your  ^fajeslv 
from  enjoying  your  ride  to-day." 

"  Do  you  suppose  that  1  would  retreat  before  my  own  subjects  T' 

"Sire,  the  wrath  of  the  populace  is  like  that  of  a  tiger  jast  escaped 
from  its  cage.  In  its  blood-thirsty  joy  it  tears  to  pieces  everythirg  ihat 
comes  in  its  way," 

"lam  curious  to  witness  its  antics,"  replied  the  EmpOror  touchinf^ 
the  bell.  '  "    ° 

"Sire,"  exclaimed  Lacy,  staying  Joseph's  band,  "what  would  you 
do?" 

"  Mount  my  horse,  and  go  to  the  funeral." 

"  What !  To  exasperate  the  crowd  !  To  endanger  yourself,  and  drive 
these  poor  halPfrantic  creatures  to  desperation  f  Oh,  by  the  love  you 
bear  us  all,  I  beseech  you,  have  mercy  upon  those  whose  only  possession 
on  earth  is  oftentimes  the  grave  !  You  would  deprive  their  children  of 
the  only  comfort  left  them — that  of  praying  over  the  ashes  of  the  de- 
parted !  You  would  deprive  those  who  are  condemned  to  live  like 
brutes  of  the  comfort  of  dying  like  men  !  You  would  have  their  bodies 
sewed  in  sacks  and  thrown  into  ditches  where  they  are  not  even  allowed 
to  moulder,  bub  must  be  destroyed  by  lime!  No  tombstone  permitted 
over  their  remains,  nothing  to  remind  their  wpeping  relatives  that  they 
■were  ever  alive!  Oh,  this  is  cruel !  It  may  be  a  great  thought,  sire, 
but  it  is  a  barbarous  deed  !  I  know  how  bold  I  ani  but  my  conscience 
compels  me  to  speak,  and  were  I  to  lose  the  Emperor's  favor,  f  must 
obey  its  faithful  monitions.  Revoke  the  edict,  sire  !  There  is  yet  time. 
In  one  hour  it  will  be  too  late!" 

The  Emperor  looked  despondently  at  Lacy's  agitated  countenance. 
Then  without  a  word  he  turned  to  his  eacriloife  and  hastily  be<-an  to 
write.  His  writing  concluded,  he  handed  thi)  paper  to  Lacy  and  com- 
manded him  to  read  it  aloud.     Lacy  bowed  and  read  as  follows  : 

"  As  .1  have  learned  that  the  living  arc  so  material  in  their  ideas,  as  to 
set  great  store  upon  the  privitege  of  having  their  bodies  rot  and  become 
carrion  after  death,  I  shall  concern  myself  in  noway  as  to  the  manner 
of  their  burying.  Let  it  be  known,  therefore,  that  having  shown  the  wis- 
dom of  disposing  of  the  dead  after  the  manner  prescribed  in  my  edict,  I 
shall  force  no  man  to  bo  wise.     Those  who  arc  not  convinced  of  its  ex- 


ijO  J>i>.KI'll    IHK   S"iC<JM> 


pedieiicy,  are  free  to  dispose  of  their  carcasses  as  thpy  see  lib/'* 

VVlieii  Lacy  had  read -to  the  erid,  the  Emperor  called  imperatively  for 
(J).iither.     He  obeyed  the  summons  at  once. 

"  This  letter  to  the  lord  high-chancellor,  Prince  Kaunitz,"  said  he.  "  [ 
H-ish  this  wriiin;^  to  be  printed  and  posted  at  the  corners  of  the  streets. 
Then  hasten  ^o  the  Leopold-suburbs,  where  any  one  of  the  police  will 
:sho\v  vou  to  the  house  whence  the  funeral  is  to  take  place.  Go  within 
and  tell  the  relatives  of  the  deceased,  that  I  give  theni  permission  to  be- 
'iixeu  their  corpse  in  whatever  style  they  may  choose,  and  to  bury  it  iu 
;i  oollin.     Take  a  crtrriaj^e  and  drive  fast."  ■    , 

Giinther  bowed  and  turned  to  leave.  ""  Stop  a  moment,''  continued 
the  Emperor.  "  Go  to  the  chief  of  police,  and  tell  him  that  the  people 
must  not  be  disturbed  in  any  way.  They  must  be  allowed  to  disperse 
at  their  pleasure.     Now,  Gunther,  be  quick." 

With  a  look  of  unspeakable  ailection  Joseph  gave  his  hand  to  Lacy. 
"Lacy,"  said  he,  "  if  I  have  made  this  threat  sacrifice  to-day,  it  is  neith- 
er from  conviction  nor  fear ;  it  is  to  show  you  what  influence  your  words 
have  over  me,*  and  to  thank  you  for  the  manliness  with  which  you  have 
ventured  to  blame  my  acts.  Few  Princes  possess  the  jewel  of  a  faith- 
ful friend.     1  thank  God  that  this  jewel  is  qiinc  !''f 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

THE  POPE  IN  VIENNA. 

A  report,  almost  incredible,  was  obtaining  currency  in  Vienna.  It 
•was  said  that  the  Pope  was  about  to  visit  the  Emperor.  Many  a  Ger- 
man Emperor,  in  centuries  gone  by,  had  made  his  pilgrimage  to  Rome  ; 
but  never  before  had  the  vicar  of  Christ  honored  the  Sovereign  of  Aus- 
tria by  coming  to  hira. 

Pius  Vi,  confounded  by  the  headlong  innovations  of  Joseph,  and 
trembling  lest  his  reforms  should  end  in  a  total  subversion  of  religion, 
had  resolved,  in  the  extremity  of  his  distress,  to  become  a  pilgrim  him- 
self, and  to  visit  the  enemy  in  his  own  stronghold. 

'*  Hubner.  Life  of  Joseph  ^d,  Vo).  2,  P.  525. 

+  I'he  Bur'al-ciUct  was  as  follows  :  -^s  th"  b"rial  of  the  <kad  has  for  its  object  the  speedy  disso- 
lution of  the  boilv,  and  as  nothinc:  hinders  that  diesoUition  more  than  the  casing  of  the  corpse  in  a 
ooffin.  it  is  ordained  that  all  dead  bodies  shall  be  stripped  of  their  clothing,  and  sewed  up  in  ailnea 
saclc.  laid  in  an  open  ••offin,  and  brough'  to  the  place  -^f  interment  A  hole  shall  be  dug  six  feet 
lon-'and  four  feet  wide,  and  the  corpse  b^ing  taken  ont  of  the  coflin,  shall  be  put  into  this  grave, 
8tre"«'ed  plentifully  with  qnick-iime,  rind  covered  with  earth.  Tf  more  than  one  corpse  is  to  be  bu- 
ried the  bodies  can  al'  be  put  in  the  same  grave."  Gross-HefBnger:  History  of  tJie  life  end  reign 
)f  Tjvteph  3d,  Vol  2  ?.  t46. 


To  this  intent  he  had  dispaiobe^  an  anto^aphic  ]ttt(?r,  announcing  it.- 
int'Cntion;  to  which  the  Emperor  had  replied  by  another,  expressive  <>( 
his  extreme  anxiet}'  to  becomt!  personrilly  acquainted  with  his  I-joliness, 
and  to  do  him  all  filial  reverence.  Furthermore,  he  be^god  that  the. 
J'^po  would  relinquish  his  intention  ol' taking  up  ])is  abode  at  the  Nun- 
cio, and  would  consent  to  be  the  guest  ot  the  imperial  fimilv. 

The  Pope  liaving  graciously  acceded  to  this  wish,  the  apartments  of 
the  Jate  Empress  ^vere  prepared  for  his  occupation.  Now  Joseph  was 
quite  awarti  that  these  apartments  abounded  in  secret  doors  and  private 
>r,fiirways,  by  which  Maria  Theresa's  many  petitioners  had  befn  accus- 
tomed to  fmd  their  way  to  the  privy  purse  of  the  munificent  Empress, 
and  so  had  diminished  the  imperial  treasury  (-f  several  millions. 

The  Emperor  dreading  lest  these  secret  avenues  should  be  used  by  the 
friends  of  the  Church  to  visit  the  Pope  in  prlvat",  caused  the  stairways  to 
be  demolished,  and  all  the  floors  to  be  walled  uj>.  He  allowed  but  one 
issue  from  the  apartments  of  his  Holiness.  This  one  led  into  the  grand 
corridor,  and  M'as  guarded  by  two  sentries,  who  had  orders  to  allow  no- 
body to  enter  who  was  unprovided  w'rth  a  pass  signed  by  Joseph  him- 
self. He  was  quite  willing  to  receive  the  Pope  as  a  guest.;  but  was  re- 
solved that  he  should  hold  no  communication  with  his  bishops,  while  on 
Austrian  soil.* 

Meanwhile,  every  outward  honor  was  to  be  paid  to  the  head  of  the 
Church.  Not  only  had  his  rooms  been  superbly  docorated,  but  the 
churches  also,  were  m  all  their  spendor.  The  vestments  of  the  clergy 
had  been  renewed — new  altar-clothes  woven,  and  magnificent  hangings 
ordered  for  the  papal  throne  erected  for  the  occasion. 

Finally,  the  momentous  day  dawned,  and  Vienna  put  on  its  holiday 
attire.  The  houses  were  wreathed  with  garlands,  the  streets  were  huii" 
with  arches  of  evergreen.  A  hundred  thousand  Viennese  pressed  to 
wards  the  Cathedral,  where  the  Pope  was  to  repair  for  prayer,  and  an- 
other throng  was  hastening  towards  the  palace  where  the  Pope  and  the 
Emperor  were  to  alight  together.  In  their  impatient  curiosity  the  peo- 
ple had  forsaken,  their  work.  No  one  was  content  to  remain  within 
doors.  Everybody  said  to  everybody,  i' The  Pope  has  come  to  Vien- 
na," and  then  followed  the  question, 

"  Why  has  his  tfoliness  come  to  Vienna  V 

"  To  bless  the  Emperor,  and  approve  his  great  deeds,"  i»id  the  friends 
of  Joseph.  • 

"To  bring  him,  if  possible,  to  a  sense  of  his  sacrilegeous  persecution 
6f  the  Church,"  said  his  enemies. 

.This  questioif  was  not  on!y  verbally  agitated,  but*t  fofrmed  the  su^- 

*  It  wns  to  .Toseph's  manifest  advnntsee  that  'he  Pope  should  not  resirtc  o'ltside  of  tho  palarp- 
and  the  Emperor  showed  his  ingenuity  in  the  various  strategic  movements  by  which  he  .lefenfi^" 
the  purpose  of  his  visit  One  of  the  Pope's  most  zealons  adherent*.  waB  the  biahop  of  «orS^ 
When  the.  Pope  left  K"me  for  Vienna,  he  would  pa^-s  thr.->neh  Gortz.  .Topeph  snmmoVie'l  tlie  bi^hoyi 
to  Vienna,  nnd  ^o  prevented  a  meeting;  between  tliem  at  Gortz;  and  on  the  day  of  the  Pope's  arn 
val  m  Vienna,  the  bishop  received  peremptory  ordere  to  return  to  his  dioM  »e.  He  was  not  nllowprt 
to cominunicato  with  the  P.-pi-.  not  even  to  see  him  as  he  pas-ed     Fricdel's  letters?  from  Vi"iiDa 


f)2  JDSEril    IIIK  SECOM>. 

/ 

ject  of  thousands  of  pamphlets  which  fluttered  from  many  a  -window 
towards  the  crowds  who  in  breathless  anxiety  were  awailhig  the  advent 
of  Pius  VI. 

■"  The.  Arrival  of  the  Pope." 
"  Why  lias  the  Pope  c^me  to  Vienna  ?"  ^ 

"What  is  the  Poper 
These  were   the  titles  of  the  hrodrnres  which  were  converting  the 
stieets  into  a  vast  reading-room,  and  preparing  the  minds  of  the  readers 
for  the.  impressions  it  was  desirable  to  create  on  the  subject. 

At  last  the  deep  bells  of  Sr.  Stephens  opened  their  brazen  throats. 
This  signified  that  the  Pope  and  t-he  Emperor  were  at  the  gates  of  the 
city.  The  consent  of  the  latter  having  been  asked  in  the  matter  of  the 
beil-ringing,  he,  had  replied  to  Cardinal  Megazzi:  "  By  all  means.  I 
wonder  you  should  ask  me  the  question,  when  bells  are  the  artillery  of 
the  Church."*  •  _ 

The  people  received  the  tidings  with  such  wild-joy,  that  in  their  eager- 
ness, several  persons  were  trampled  to  death.  But  on  they  rushed,  see- 
ing and  hearing  nothin"  until  eiirht  lives  were  sacrificed  to  the  fierce  cu- 
riusity  of  the  mob. 

And  now  the  iron  tongues  of  every  bell  in  Vienna  proclaimed  that 
the  Pope  had  entered  the  city.  The  crowd  who  up  to  this  moment  had 
laughed,  sung  and  shouted,  suddenly  ceased  their  clamor.  Nothing  was 
heard  save  the  musical  chime  of  the  bells,  while  every  eye  was  tixed 
upon  a  small  white  spot  which  was  just  becoming  visible.  The  point 
gr-ew  larger,  and  Pook  form.  First  catAe  the  outriders,"then  the  imperial 
eqjjipage  drawn  by  eight  milk-white  horses  caparisoned  with  crimson 
and  gold.  Nearer  and  nearer  came  the  cortege,  until  the  people  recog- 
nised in  the  noble  old  man  whose  white  locks  flowed  from  under  his 
velvet-cap,  the  supreme  Pontifi',  Antonio  Braschi,  Pope  Pius  VI. 

Ne.ver  throughout  his  pontifical  career,  had  the  Pope  beheld  such  a 
crowd  before.  And  these  hundreds  of  thousands  had  assembled  to  bid 
him  welcome.  A  smile  of  gratification  flitted  over  his  handsome  fea- 
tures^and  he  raised  his  eyes  to  the  face  of  his  companion. 

The  Emperor  wore  a  contented  expression  ;  by  some  it  might  have 
been  regarded  as  derisive. 

He  had  seen  what  the  Pope  in  the  simple  joy  of  his  heart  had  not  ob- 
served. The  people  who  in  ihe  presence  of  the  high  dignitaries  of  the 
church  had  been  accustomed  to  kneel  and  ask  a  jplessing,  were  standing, 
although  the  prelate  who  stood  in  theiK.  midst  was  the  Sovereign  Pontifl" 
himself;  and  Joseph,  as  he  contemplated  his  subjects,  exulted  in  secret. 
«The  corteee,  impeded  by  the  throng,  mov^d  slowly  towards  the  im- 
perial palace.  When  it  drew  up  before  the  gates,  Joseph,  springing 
from  the  carriage,  assisted  the  Pope  to  alight,  and  accompanied  him  to 
his  apartments.  Occasionally  Pius  raised  his  mild  eyes  to  the  Empe- 
ror's face  and  smiled,  while  Joseph  in  nowise  discomposed  by  the  honor 
of  receiving  the  chief  pastor  of  Christendom,  walked  proudly  by  his  side. 

♦  Friertel's  Letters  ;  vo',  1,  pa£:e'218. 


"CMKKKOS     UK     xi.«~TKlA 


1. hey  papscJ  through  the  magninccnL  state-apartments  de^ipnod  for 
thc^  occupaf  ion  .f  the  IVe,  hut  not  until  they  had  reached  his  private 
Miring-ruom,  did  the  Emperor  invite  him 'to  rest  after  his  fali<ruin.r 
^va]k.  °      *' 

'■  It  has  not  fatigued  me,"  replied  Pius.  'Mt  has  interested  me  on 
the  contrary,  to  traverse  a  palace  which  has  been  the  le.Vi.Jeuce  of  so 
many  pious  Princes.  I  esteem  if  a  -reat  piivilet;e  to  inhabit  those 
rooms  whose  deceased  occupants  have  each  in  his  tarn  received  the  ben- 
ediction of  my  hun(^r(d  [Predecessors " 

"  Hut  who  never  were  blessed  by  the  love  of  their  subjects  "  replied 
Jo^^eph,  mterrupling  him.  "  To  my  mind,  this  is  a  blessini;  better  v'orth 
striving  for,  than  a  papal  benediction,  and  it  is  the  aim  of  m?/  life  to  de- 
serve )t.  • 

/'  Doubtless  your  Majesty  will  reach  your  aim,"'  replied  the  Pope 
with  courtesy.  "I  have  confidence.in  the  rectitude  of  your  Mimsty's 
mtentions;  and  if  I  have  made  this  pilgrimage  to  Vienn-i,  it  is  be.au^e 
relying  upon  your  honesty  of  purpose,  I  hope  to  couvince  you  that  it 
has  l)een  misapplied.  The  visit  of  ihePope  to  the  Austrian  Emne.or 
IS  a  concession  which  I  cheerfully  make,  if  bv  that  cunces.iun  1  can  in- 
duce him  to  pause  in  n  career  which  has  sorely  woiind.'d  my  heart  and 
has  be/M,  ihe  occasion  of  so  jnudi  scandal  to  our  hoi-/  mother  the 
Churcli." 

"I  ft-ar  that  your  IToliness  has  been  mistaken  in  vour  estimate  of 
nie,' replied  Joseph,  turning  his  flashing  eyes  upoQ  th6  implorin<T  facp 
of  the  Pope.  ''IJoweverl  might  be  moved  by  the  pathos  of%our 
words,  a  Sovereign  has  no  right  to  listen  to  the  pleadings  of  his  heart— 
tis  the  head  that  must  guide  and  influence^  his  conduct':  1  fear,  there- 
lore,  that  your  Holiness  will  he  disappointed  in  the  result  of  your  visit 
here.  1  accept  your  journey  to  Vienna  as  a  distinguished  mark  of  your 
papal  good-will,  and  am  rejoiced  to  have  it  in  niy  power  to  show  all 
possible  filial  reverence  to  your  noHness.  x^eilher  1  nor  my  subjects 
will  deny  the  consideration  which  is  his  due,  to  the  spiritual  head  of  the 
church  ;  but  he  on  hi(5  part,  must  refrain  from  touching  with  his  conse^ 
crated  hand  the  things  uf  this  world  which  concern  hiin  not  '' 

;'  It  is  my  duty  to  attend  to  all  the  affnirs  of  Holy  Chi-rch  whether 
spiritual  or  temporal,"  replied  the  Pope  genth'. 

"The  temporal  aflairs  of  the  Church  c^oncein  your  Nuncio  and  my 
Minister,"  said  Joseph  with  impatience.  -  And  as  your  Holiness  has 
entered  at  once  upon  a  controversy  with  me  respecting  my  acts  towards 
the  Churc;h,  I  declare  distinctly  to  you  thut  1  shall  not  recede  from  the 
least  of  them,  and  that  your  journey  to  Vienna,  if  its  ohjcct.is  to  influ- 
ence ray  policy  as  sovereign  of  these  realias,  is  already  a  failure.  The 
reasons  for  my  conduct  are  satisfactory  to  me,  and  no  power  on  earth 
shall  move  me  from  the  position  I  have  taken."* 

"  I  will  not  altogether  giVe  njvhe  hope  I  have  cherished  of  raovincr 
your  Majesty's  heart,"  replied  the  Pope  earnestly.     "  I  shall  continue  to 

•  Tho  liinporors  wonts.    Hubner  I.  pft!?«  11-X 


JObBPH    TUB   SKOONU, 


pray  that  it  may  be  my  privilege  to  convince  you  of  your  errars  and 
ie-dd  you  back  to  the  path  of  justice. an (5  of'reJimon." 

"  Which  means  that  you  .expect  me  to  retract !"  cried  Joseph  impet- 
uously; '*  Never. will  1  ictract  what  I  have  said  or  dune,  for  I  hcX  trom, 
conviction,  and  conviction  does  not  t;l:p  off  and  on  like  a  <ilove! — But 
iet  us  speak  no  more  on  this  subject.  If  your  Holiness  will  write  dowa 
your  canonical  objections  to  my  proceedings  against  the  Church,  I  will 
lay  them  before  my  theologians  <or  examination.  My  Cbaiicelior  shall 
reply  to  them  rninisterially,  and  tiie  correspoiidenc?e  can  be  published 
tor  the  edihcation  of  my  subjects.  Meanwhile  1  shall  endeavor  to  de- 
serve the  good-will  of  your  Holiness  by  acting  towards  my  honored 
guest  the  part  of  an  obliging  and  .hospitable  host.  This  reminds  me 
that  [  have  already  trespassed  upon  your  time,  and  have  deprived  you 
of  the  repose  which  a  traveler  always  craves  after  a  long  journey.  I 
hope  that  your  Holiness  will  overlook  this  intrusion,  and  pardon  me  if 
iny  great  anxiety  to  enjoy  your  society  caused  ine  to  forget  the  consid 
eration  due  to- my  tired  guest." 

With  these  words  the  Emperor  retired.  The  Pope  followed  his  re- 
treating figure  with  a  glance  of  profound  sadness-. 

'•I  feaV'  thought  he,  "that  Joseph  is  indeed  irreclaimable."  Here 
he  raised  his  .soft  dark  eyes  to  Heaven,  and  continued  in  a  low  murmur, 
"  For  a  time  the  Lord  endureth  with  mildness,  but  His  might  overcom- 
eth  the  blasphemer,  and  he  vanisheth — while  Holy  Church  remaineth 
unchangeable  forever!"  ' 


CHAPTER  XV.       . 

THE   FLIGHT. 

"You  persist  in  your  refusal?"  cried  Eskeles  Flies  in  an  angry  voice. 
"You  dare  to  oppose  the  will  of  your  father?" 

"  i  persist  in  my  refusal,"  replied  Rachel  firmly,  lifting  her  dark,  tear- 
ful eyes  to  her  father's  e.\cited  countenance.  "  I  must  rebel  against  yoUr 
Huthority,  my  father,  for  you  would  compromise  my  earthly  happiness 
and  my  Valvation.  Oh,  dear  father,  do  not  harden  your  heart  against 
me!     Jn  mercy  heed  my  prayers !" 

With  these  words  Rachel  would  have  thrown  herself  upon  her  father's 
bosom.     But  he  thrust  her  from  hini. 

'"Tis  you  who  have  hardened  your  hear*  against  the  law  of  God 
which  bids  the  child  obey  her  father,"  cried  he. 

"  )  cannot  recognise  my  father's  authority  when  he  overstep^;  his  rights 


?i!id  t.rcnclio'?  tipon  njijK',  as  a  human  i)ci;i2;,'"  urg.J  ilaclipl.  "J  caniii,* 
perjure  myself  by  accepting,  as  a  husband,  a  roan  whom  \  (lo  not  love. 
iU;  is  a  coarse  iiliterate,cieature,  who  lienors  nolhiug  ijut  weaiih,  loves 
nothing  but  gold !"  .  ' 

"  IJc  iji  the  son  of  the  richest  merchant  in  Brussels,  and  the  Emperor 
has  made  a  nobleman  of  his  father,  lie.  is  your  equal,  or  lath-or  he  is 
your  superior,  for  he  i<=!  richer,  much  richer  Uiau  we." 

"  lie  my  emial !     lie  cnnnot  uudersiaml  me,"  cried  Rachel. 
Her  father  laughed.     *'  Not  your  equal,  because  he  docs  not   go  into 
raptures  over  young  Alozart,  and  does  not  indulge  in  speculative  theol- 
ogy, but  worships  God  afier  the  manner  of  his  fathers? — a  Jew  in  short 
who  hates  the  (  hrislian  and  glories  in  his  Jewish  birth-ri<'ht  ?" 

"-Yes,"  said  liachel  shuddering,  "a  Jew  in  feature,  speech  and  spirit. 
Not  such  a  noble  Israelite  as  you,  my  father,  but  a  man  possessing  eve- 
ry repulsive  peculiarity  which  has  made  the  Jew  the  pariah  of  the  civil- 
ized  world.  Oh,  father,  dear  father,  do  not  barter  me  for  gold  !  Let 
me  remain  your  child,  your  darling— living  and  dying  in  the  home 
whicli  your  love  hjs  n)ade  like  Eden  to  my  girlhood  !" 

"  I  have  promised  your  hand  to  I'aron  Von  Meyer,"  was  the  curt 
reply, 

''  I  will  not  give  it !''  cried  Rachel  frantically.  "  Yon  f^.rce  me  to  dis- 
obedience, by  requiring  of  me  that  which  is  impossible." 

"  I  shall  force  you  to  obedience,  rebellious  girl,  for  our  laws  invest 
the  father  with  absolute  authority  over  his  child,  and  1  .«hall  use  mv 
right  to  rescue  you  from  dishonor.  I  read  your  heart,  Rachel,  and  there- 
in I  see  written  the  history  of  your  perfidy  and  shame." 

"Then  you  have  read  filsely,"  exclaimed  Rachel  with  indignation. 
"  Up  to  ^lis  day  I  have  kppt  the  oath  I  made  to  reniain  a  Jewes'Tl  And 
no  mortal,  were  he  ten  times  my  father,  has  the  right  to  couple  mv 
nanie  with  perfidy  or  shame!" 

'•  You  dare  to  look  me  in  the  face  and  deny  your  di.-graoe  !'*"  said-  her 
father  trembling  with  anger.  "Yon,  who  at  early  morning  in  my  own 
garden  have  listened  to  the  vows  of  a  liilsc-tongiied  Christian  !'  Y'ou 
who  have  sworn  to  be  no  man's  wife,  if  not  his  !'' 

■ "  Ah — yon  know  all  !"  cried  Rachel  in  acccMits  of  supreme  joy.  "God* 
be  prijiscd  there  need  be  no  more  concealment  between  us!  Yes,  father, 
I  love'Giinther,  and  if  I  be  not  permitted  to  become  his  wife,  in  the 
might  of  my  l^ve  I  would  not  scorn  to  be  his  handmaid  !  I  have  loved 
him  sinqe  you  first  brought  him  hither,  and  proudly  presented  him  a.s 
the  Emperor's  favorite.     Oh,  my  father,  we  were  not  rich  then  !" 

"No— and  he  would  have  sco-rned  fo  ask  yuu  to  wed  him.  Now — 
he  \Yould  degrade  the  heiress  of  my  wealth  by  seekinir  to  make  her  his 
Wile. 

"  Degrade  me  !"  echoed  Rachel  with  a  blush  of  indlcnntion.  'I  should 
Vie  honored  by  bearing  his  nam*^,  not  because  he  is  the  "Emperor's  favor- 
ite, hut  because  he  is?  worthy  of  my  love." 

'=  And  yet,  Cod  be  praised,  Raclicl  Eskeles  can  never  be  the  wife  of 


50  _  JoSKI'll     rilK   8Ki;<)Mi 

a,  Clifistian/' shoufcd  tho  banker  triumphantly,   "■for  slic  has  sworn  by 
the  nicoiory  of  her  jiio'theY.  to  die;  a  Jewess." 

'•She  will  keep  her  oath  unlg'ss  her  f;iiher  r.olease  her,"  ceplied  'iiucliel. 
"  But  olii"  added  she,  iiilling  on  her  knees  and  raising  her  while  arms 
above  her  head,  "he  will  have  pity  upon  tiie  misery  of  his  only  child — 
lie  uill  not  condemn  lier  to  dej^poir!  Have  mercy,  have  mercy,  dear 
father!  Be  }  our  generous  self,  and  take  ino  to  your  lieart.  Release 
me,  and  let  nie  become  a  Christian  and  the  wife  of  my  jovcr  !  He  cares 
nothing  ior  your  wealth,  he  asks  nothing  bnt  my  hand  !'* 

Her  fatherglared  at  her  with  a  look  That  seemed  almost  like  hate. 
"  You  are  a  Jewess,"  hissed  he,  "and  a- Jewess  you  shall  die  !" 

'•  I  am  no  Jewess  at  heart,  father.  I  have  been  educated  in  a  Chris- 
tian country  and  after  the  manner  of  Christian  wom^en.  And  you.  too, 
hav6  renounced  your  birth-right.  You  have  eaten  and  drimk  ,\vilh  the 
Gejitiles,  you  have  cut  your  hair,  and  have  adopted  their  dress.'  Nay, 
more  !  You  have  parted  with  your  name,  and  have  accepted  a  Chris- 
tian title,  Wiiy  then  have  yon  not  the  manliness  to  abjure  the  God  of 
lieveng*^  and  Hate,  and  openly  adore  the  Chris-tian  God  of  Love  and 
Mercy?"  '  " 

"1  will  live  and  die  a  Jew,"  cried  the  banker  choking  with  rage.  "  I 
swear  it  again,  and  may  1  be  accursed  il'evcr  I  break  my  oath  !" 

"  Then,  father,  release  ???.<?  from  the  lie  that  fc>llows  me  like  an  evil 
shadow,  blasting  my  life  here  and  hereafter.  Give  me  to  my  lover. 
Keep  your  wealth  to  (^nrich  your. tribe,  but  give  me  your  blessing  and 
your  love  !"  . . 

"  You  shall  reinain  a  Jewess,"  thundered  her  father, 

"  Is  this  yonr  last  word?"  crfed  Rachel,  springing  to  her  feet.  "Is 
thi:A  your  last  word  f  ^ 

"it  is,"  replied  he,  eyeing  her  \vit!i  cold  cruelty. 

"Then  hear  my  detcrniination.  1  have  .sworn  fidelity  to  Giiulher, 
and  if.  1  must  choose  betweenyou,  I  give  myself  to  him.  J  will  not  be- 
coine  a  Christian,  for  such  was  my  oaih,  but  I  w-lll  abjure  tfudaisn^."^ 

"And  become'.a  Deist  ?"    ■ 

"Call  it  what  you  will.  I  shall  adore  the  God  of  Love  and  Mercy." 
•  "  A  Deist !  Then  you  have  never  hga.rd  what  punishment  awaits  the 
Deist  here.  You  do  not  know  .that  the  Emperor  who  affects  toleration, 
has  his  vulnerable  hoel,  and  will  not  tolerate  Deism.  The  gentle  pun- 
ishment which  his  riajesty  awards 'to  Deism  is— that  -of  .the  lash.*  So 
that  1  scarcely  tUitik  j  on  would  dare  m'e  to  accuse  you  "of  f/iat/-^Bnt 
pshaw  !  Lgo  too  far  in  oiy  f^ars.  My  daughter  will  recognize  her  fol- 
ly, and  yield  her  will  to  mine.  .  6he  wiJI  be  as  she  has  ever  been,  my 
.ndored  child — for  whose  happiness  I  can  never  do  too  much — whose 
every  wish  it  shall  Vie  my  jo^y  to  gratify." 

"  1  have  but  ojie  wish — that  of.becomin"g  the  wife  of  Giinther."- 

Her  father  afi'ected  not  to  hear  her.  "  Yes,''  continued  he,  •"  she  will 
verify  my  promise,  and  take  the  huf^band'I  have  chosen.     This  marriage 

•  Oro.%nnfiin<»pr  2,  pti^'eieo. 


KM  re  (Ml. 


Avill  1)0  a  line  tliins;  for  lx>th  parties,  for  I  give  my  daughter  one  hnlf 
million  otiloriiis,  ami  Daren  Von  Me\  vr  i;ives  his  son  a  million  crv-!i 
down.  Then  the  fiitlier-in  law yives  ihree  hundred  florins  n  month  i'or 
pin  money,  and  1  seven  hundred  ;  t-o  that  Kachol  has  a  thousand  •iltjrins 
u  nionth  I'ur  her  little  caprices,  and  of  this,  "she  is  to  render  no  account. 
That  is  a  pretty  dower  lor  a  bride  !  1  give  my  daughter  a  trousseau 
equal  in  magnihcence  to  that  of  a  prileess.  Upon  her  equipage  the'arnis 
of  our  two  houses  are  already  eniblazoued,  and  to  niorrow  four  of  the 
finest  liorses  in  Vienna  will  conduct  the  Baroness  Von  Meyer  to  hwhu's- 
Vjand's  palace.  I  congratulate  )  ou,  Baronfcs.  No  Christian  woman  in 
Vienna  shall  have  an  establishment  like  yours  !" 

"1  shall  never  be  the  Baroness  Von  Meyer,"  said  Rachel  calmly,  but 
an  icy  chill  ran  through  her  veins,  for  she  loved  her  father,  and  felt  that; 
they  must  shortly  part,  forever. 

"  Yes,  you  will  be  the  Baroness  Von  Meyer  tomorrow.  I  have  an- 
ticipated ail  your  ol)jections.  The  Rabbi  that  is  to  marry  you  is  a  Pole. 
He  will  not  understand  your  reply,  and  the  young  Baron  has  magnani- 
mously consented  to  overlook  any  little  informality  of  which  your'follv 
may  be  the  cause;  for  he  likes  money,  and  is  too  good  a  Jew  not  to 
i»id  nie  in  rescuing  my  heiress  from  disgrace.  You  see  that  your  poor 
Jittle  struggles  will  all  be  vain.  Resign  yourself  then,  and  accept,  the 
brilliant  destiny  which  awaits  you." 

'•  I  will  soon»r  die  tlian  eonsign  myself  to  misery  and  disgrace  !"' 

"  Be  easy  on  that  subject.  God  will  shield  you  from  misery,  and 
your  father's  watcliful  eye  will  see  that  you  do  not  consign  yourself  lo 
disgrace,"  replied  the  banker  ^coldly.  But  enough  of  words.  '  Night  sets 
in  and  I  have  yet  a  few  preparations  to  make  for  to-morrow,  his  pro- 
per that  you  pass  the  last  evening  of  your  maiden  life  in  solitude,  and  that 
you  may  not  spend  it  in  weariness,  1  have  ordered  your  drawing-rcoms 
to  be  lighted,  and  your  trousseau  to  be  laid  out,  for  your  inspection. 
Go  and  gladden  your  heart  with  its  magniliconce.     Good  night." 

So  saying.  Baron  Eskeles  Flies  left  the  room.  Rachel  heard  him  turn 
the  key  in  the  lock  and  withdraw  it.  vShe  then  remembered  that  the 
drawing-rooms  were  lighted.  Perhaps  her  father  had  neglected  to  fisteii 
some  of  the  doors  leading  thencei  into  the  hall,  Rachel'  sprang  to  the 
door  of  communication,  and  flung  it  open.  The  rooms  were  brilliantly 
lit  up,  and  the  sparkling  chandeliers  of  crystal  looked  down  upon  a  wil- 
derness of  velvet,  satin,  flow6rs,  lace  and  jewels,  truly  a  trousseau  for  a 
princess !  ■  ' 

But  what  cared  Rachel  for  this  ?  Indacd  she  saw  nothing,  save  the 
distant  doors  towards  which  slie  sped  like  a  frightened  doe.  Alas,  they 
too  were  locked,  and  the  only  answers  to  her  frantic  calls  were  the 
mocking  echoes  of  her  own  voice.   " 

For  a  few  moments  she  leaned  against  the  wall  for  support ;  then  her 
glance  took  in  the  Ipng  perspective  of  magnificence  which  was  to  giJd 
the  hideous  sacrifice  of  a  whole  human  life,  and  she  murmured  soitly, 
"  1  must  be  free.     1  cannot  perjure  myself.     I   shall  keep  my   vow  to 


;.)>  •  !M^t;i'n  the  si-X'i.nu 

J 

ijihuher  or  die!     My  father  is   ho   failier — tie  Is  my  piilur,  find  i  ow^e 
liini  no  longor  tho  obfcdifince  of  a  child."' 

She  went  slowly  biick.  revolving  in  her  mind  what  she  siiould  do.— 
lincousciously  she  paused  before  a  tabic  resplendent  witji  trinkets, 
vhose  surpassing  beauty  seemed  to  woo  the  younir  girl  to  her  fate.  But 
]i;iehel  was  no  lunger  n  maiden  to  be  allured  by  dress.  The  exigertcies 
of  the  hour  had  transformed  her  into  a  brave  woman,  who  was  donning 
her  armor  and  preparing  for  the  fight, 

"  (^iinther  awaits  me  !"  said  she  musing.  "  But  why,  where'?  That 
she  could  not  say.  But  she^elt  that  she  must  free  herself  from  prison, 
and  that  her  fate  now  lay.  i-n  her  own  hands.  At  that  moment  she  stood 
before  a  large  round  table  which  was  just  under  the  principal  chandelier 
of  her  superb  reception-room.  Here  lay  dainty  boxes  containing  laces, 
and  caskets  enclosing  jewels.  Not  for  one  moment  did  she  think  of 
their  contents.  She  saw  but  the  gilt  letters  which  were  engraved  upon 
the  red  morocco  cases. 

'•  Rachel  Von  Meyer  "  was  on  every  box  and  case.  In  her  fathers 
mind;  she  already  bore  another  name  ! 

''JIachel  Von  Meyer!"  sa4d  she  w^ith  a  shudder.  "My  Aither  denies 
me  his  name — who  then  am  J  ?" 

A  flush  of  modest  shame  overspread  her  fice,  as  scarcely  daring  to, 
articulate  the.  words,  she  knelt  and  murmured,  "  I  am  Rachel  Gunther," 

"And  ifsuch.be  my  name,"  continued  she,  after  a  paose  of  rapture, 
"  I  have  no  right  to  be  here  amid  the  treasures  of  the  Baroness  Von 
Meyer.  I  must  away  from  this  house,  which  is  no  longer  a  home  for 
me — Awo,y — raway — for  Gunther  awaits  me." 

And  now  she  looked  with  desp3,ir  at  the  locked  doors  and  the  lofty 
windows  so  far,  far  from  the  groimd.  •'  Oh,  if  1  had  but  wings  !  I  who 
am  here  a  prisoner,  while  my  heart  is  away  with  him  !" 

Suddenly  she  gave  a  start,  for  deliverance  was  possible.  She  looked 
from  the  v/indow  as  if  to  measure  its  height,  and  then  she  darted  through 
the  rooms  until  she  saw  a  table  covered  with  silks.  She  topk  thence,  a 
bolt  of  wide,  heavy  ribbon,  and  throwing  it  before  her,  exclaimed  joy- 
fully, "  It  is  long,  oh  it  is  quite  long  enough  !  And  strong  enough  to 
support  me.  Thank  heaven,  it  is  dark,^and  I  shall  not  be  seen.  A  gold 
ducat  will  bribe  the  guard  at  the  postern,,  ^and  then — I  am  free  !" 

She  returned  to  her  sitting-room  and  with  trembling  haste  threw  a 
dark  mantle  around  her.  Then  looking  up  at  her  father's  portrait,  her 
eyes  filled  with  bitter  tears.     "Farewell,  my  father,  farewell !" 

Scarcely  knowing  what  she  did,  she  fled  from  her  room,  and. ret  turned 
to  the  only  oV^ject  which  possessed  any  more  interest  for  her  there,  the 
long,  long  ribbon  which  'ike  a  gigantic  serpent  lay  glistening  on  tlie  floor 
where  she  had  enrolled  it.  She  stooped  to  pick  it  up,  and  trailing  it 
after  her,  she  flew  from  room  to  room,  until  she  came  to  the  last  on«  bf 
the  suite  which  overlooked  the  park.  She  opened  a  window  and  lis- 
tened. 

Nothing  was  heard  there  save  the  "  warbling  wind,"  that  wooed  the 


s;Mr:<i:.>K  mh   alsikIa  j1< 


yout>g  hiMiiches,  :\nd  iiore  :ujd  there  a  little  bird  that  ventured  its  hvUi 
upon  the  nij^lit,  llachel  securL-d  the;  ribbon  to  the  cross-work  of  the 
M'indovv,  aVid  then  let  it  fall  below.  (.)ncc  more  she  listened  ;  she  could 
ahnost  hear  the  beuun<rs  ot"  her  uw»i  heart,  but  nothing  else  broke  the 
^silence  of  the  house.  She  gave  one  quick  glaucc  around  her  beautiful 
home,  where  lay  till  the  splendor  that,  might  have  1)een  her?,  and  grasp- 
ing tile  ribbon  firmly  in  her  hands,  she  dropped  from  the  window  to  the 
iriound. 


•    .  .  CHAPTER  XVI.      • 

THR  MAUHIAGE  HEFORE  GOP, 

GuNTHER  had  returned  frc^m  the  palace  to  his  own  lodgings  in  the  city. 
Here,  the  labors  of  the  day  over,  he  sat  dreaming  of  his  love,  wondering 
\vhether  she  thought  of  hini  during  these  dreary  weeks  of  their  forced 
parting.  He  had  stretched  himself  upon  a  di%'an,  and  with  his  head 
thrown  back  upon  the  cushion,  he  gave  himself  up  to  thoughts  of  that 
hive  which  was  at  once  the  greatest  grief  and  the  greatest  joy  of  his  life. 

"  Will  it  ever  end  ?"  thought  h^.  "  Will  she  ever  consent  to  leave 
that  princely  lnjme  for  me.?" 

Sometimes  a  clo\id  came  over  his  handsome,  noble  features,  sometimes 
the  sunlight  of  happiness  broke  over  theui,  and  then  he  smiled-  And  on 
he  dreamed,  happy  or  unhappy,  as  he  fancied  that  Rachel  was  his,  or 
was  parted  iVom  him  forever. 

The  door-bell  rang  with  a  clang  that  startled  him  ;  but  what  to  him 
was  the  impatience  of  those  who  sought  admittance  to  his  house  ?  ITo 
had  almost  begun  to  fixncy  that  Rachel  was  before  him,  and  he  was  vex- 
ed at  the  intrusion.  Meanwhile,  the  door  of  his  room  had  been  softlv 
opened,  but  Giinther  had  not  heard  it.  He  heard — saw — nothing  but  his 
peerlfess  Rachel.     She  was  there  with  her  lustrous  eyes,  her  silky  hair, 

her  pale   and  beautiful    features.— She  was  there what! — Did  he 

dream? — She  r^'crs  before  Him,  but  paler  than  her  wont,  her  dark  eyes 
fixed  upon  him  with  a  pleading  look,  her  lithe  figure  swaying  from  side 
to  side,  as  with  uncertain  footsteps,  she  seemed  to  be  approaching  his 
couch  !     Good  God  !     Was  it  an  apparition  !     What  has  happened  ! 

Giinther  started  to  his  feet,  and  cried  out,  "  Oh,  mv  Rachel,  my  be- 
loved !"  ^ 

"  It  is  I,"  said  she  in  a  fiiltering  voice.  "  Before  you  take  me  tp  your 
heart,  hear  me,  Giinther.  I  have  fled  from  my  father's  house  forever ; 
for  he  would  have  sold  me  to  a  man  whom  I  abhor,  and  whom  1  could 


<■)(.(  fdSKt'll    rUK   ?K(M>M>, 

never  liave  married  had  my  heart  been  free.  I  being  neither  gold  nor 
jewels;  I  coiae  to  youa.beggar,  my  inheritance  a  father's  curse,  my 
(Jovrry  naught  but  my  love  and  faith.  So  dowered  and  so  portioned, 
will  you  take  me,  Giinther'?" 

Gunth6r  looked  upon  his  love  with  eyes  wherein  she  must  have  read 
consolation  tor  all  her  trials,  for  her  sweet  lips  parted  with  a  happy 
smile. 

"]\L"y  treasure  !"  was  his  reply,  as  he  took  her  little  trembling  hand, 
and  pressed  it  fo.idly  within  his  own.     '"  Come,  my  Rachel,  come  and  see 
how  [  have  longed  for  this  day.     He  drew  h«r  forward  and  opened  a 
door  opposite  to  the  one  by  which  she  had  entered. 
■"  Come,  your  holne  is  ready,  my  own." 

They  entered  together,  and  Rachel  found  herself  in  a  drawing-room 
where  taste  and  elegance  amply   atoned   for  the  absence  of  splendor. 

"  Now  see  your  sJLl^ig-room."  Nothing  could  be  more  cheerful  f^r 
home-like  than  the  appointn^ents  of  this  cosy  apartment,  lit  up  like  the 
drawing-room  by  a  tasteful  chandelier. 

"There,"  said  Giinther,  pointing  to  a  door,  "is  your  dressing-room, 
and  within,  your  chaiuber,  my  Rachel.  For  six  months  this  dwelling 
has  awaited  its  mistress,  and  that  she  might  upvcr  enter  it  unawares,  it 
lias  been  nightly  lit-up  for  her  coming.  1  was  almost  tempted  to  despair,' 
beloved  ;  yoi.i  have  §aved  me  from  a  discouragement  that  was  undermi- 
ning my  health.  Now  you  are  here,  and  all  is  well.  When  shall  the 
priest  bless  our  nuptials  1     This  very  night — shall  he  not,  my  biide  1" 

"He  can  never  bless  them,"  replied  Rachel  solemnly. 

Giinther  turned  pale.  "  Never  ! — You  have  not  then  come  to  be 
my  wife  !"  ■  ' 

"I  cannot  be  your  Wife  according  to  human  rites,  Giinther,  for  well 
you  know  that  I  have  sworn  never  to  become  a  Christian.  But  I  am 
ypurs  for  ti|,ne  and  eternity,  and  knowing  my  own  heart,  I  accept  the 
world's  scorn,  for  your  dear  sake.  Earth  refuses  to  bless  our  nuptials, 
but  God  will  hear  our  vows.  Giinther,  will  you  reject  me  because  I  am, 
a  Jewess  V 

Giinther  imprinted  a  kiss  upon  her  forehead,  and  sank  on  his  knees 
before  her. 

"Rachel,"  said  he,  raising  his  right  hand  to  heaven,  "  I  swear  to  love 
you  for  better  or  for  worse,  devoting  my  life  to  your  happiness.  Oa 
my  knees  I  swear  before  God  to  honor  you  as  my  wife,  and  to  be  faith- 
ful and. true  to  you  until  death  dues  us  part." 

Rachel  then  knelt  at  his  side,  and  laying  her  hand  in  his,  she  repeated 
her  vows.  Then  they  kissed  each  other,  aiid  Giinther  taking  her  in  his 
arms,  pressed  Her  to  his  throbbing  heart. 

'•  Vve  are  husband  and  wife,"  said  he.  "  God  has  received  our  vows, 
and  now,  Rachel,  you  are  mine,  for  He  has  blessed  and  sanctioned  your 
entrance  into  my.  house  '•" 


eMl'EKUK    OP    AISTIUA.  ijl 


CIL^'TER   XVir. 


THE  PARK. 


The  first  clays  of  a  smilinjcr  spring  h.ld  Tilled  the  park  with  hundred!? 
of  splendid  equipages,  and  prancing  horsemen.  There  was  the  carriage 
of  the' Princess  Esterhazy  with  twenty  outriders  in  the  livery  of  (he 
Prince — that  of  the  new  Pritice  Palm,  vvl)o?c  four  black  horses  wore 
their  harness  of  pure  gold— there  was  the  gilded,  fairy-like  vis-a-vis  ^i' 
J  he  beatitifiil  CouBtess  TImn,  its  panels  decorated  with  paintings  from 
the  hands  of  one  of  the  first,  artist-i  oflheday — the  cnacJi  of  the  Countess 
Pietrichstein,  drawn  by  four  ii,iilk-\vhile  horses,  whose  delicate  pasterns 
M'crc  encircled  by  jewelled  bT^celets  worthy  of  glittering  upon  the  arm 
of  a  beauty.  In  simrt  the  arisfocrac^^  of  Austria,  Hungary,  and  Lombar- 
dy  were  there,  in  all  the  splendor  of. their  wealth  and  rank.  It  seemed 
:i6  though  Spring  were  holding  a  le\>;e,  and  the  nobles  of  the  Empire 
had  thronged  her  flowery  courts. 

Not  only  they,  but  the  people,  torr,  had  come  to. greet  young  Spring. 
They  crowded  the  foot-paths,  eage^  to  scent  the  balmy  air,  to  refresii 
their  eyes  with  the  sight  of  the  velveT,  turf,  and  to  enjoy  the  pageant 
presented  to  their  wondering  eyes  by  the^Mii^iignificent  turn-outs  of  the 
aristocracy."  Thousands  and. thousands  filled  the  alleys  and  outlets  of 
the  park,  all  directing  their  steps  towtfrds  the  centre,  for  there  the  Em- 
peror and  his  court  were  to  be  seen.  ThertT^the  people  might  gaze  in 
close  proximity  at  the  dainty  beau tie«^R-.hor^" they  knew  as  the  denizens 
of  another  earthly  sphere  ;  there  they  might,  elbow  greatness,  and  there, 
above  all,  they  might  feast  their  eyes  upon  tiie  Er)iperor,*  who,  simply 
dressed,  rode  to  and  fro,  as  ofteil  stopp;ing  hi^  liorse  to  chat  with  a  pea- 
sant  as  with  a  peer.  V'V   , 

^  The  Emperor  dismounted  and  this  \*as  the  signal  for  all  other  cava- 
liers to  dismount  and  accompany  him.  ^The  ladies  also  were  compelled 
to  rise  from  their  velvet  cushions  and  to  tread  the  ground  with  their 
silken-slippered  feet.  Their  equipages  were  crowded  together  on  one 
side  of  the  square,  and  around  them  the  hprses  now  held  by  their  live- 
ried jockies,  were  champing  tkeir  bits  and  pawing  the  ground  with  rest- 
less hoofs. 

The  crowd  was  so  dense  that  patrician  and  plebian  stood  side  by  side. 
The  people  in  their  innocent  enjoyment  of  the  scene,  broke  several 
times  through  the  ranks  of  titled  promenaders  who  were  moving  towards 
the  centre  of  the  garden,  vainly  hoping  to  find  some  spot  unprofaned  by 
the  vicinity  of  the  vulgar  herd. 


biJ  josEni  TUB  skcknu. 

•  The  Emperor  saw  the  lowering  brows  of^is  conrllers,  and  knew  that 
their  angiy  glances  were  directed  towards  the  people. 

"  Vv'haL  is  the  matter  with  you,  my  lords  T'  asked  he.  "  You  are  the 
picture,  of  discontent.  Fray,  Count  Fur.stenberg,  speak ^  for  the  court. 
What  has  happened  to  discompose  your  equaniini.'-y  ?" 

"1  do  not  know,  your  Majesty,"  stammerpd  the  Count. 

"  And  yet  you  iVown  terribly,"  laughed  Joseph.  "  Come — no  con- 
cealment.    What  has  vexed' you  all '?" 

'•Your  Majesty  commands " 

"I  do." 

"  If  so,  sire,  we  are  annoyed  by  the  vulgar  curiosity  of  the  populace 
■who  gape  in  our  faces  as  if  we  were  South  Sea  Islanders  or  specimens  of 
fossil-life."  ■        ^ 

"True — the  curiosity  of  the  Viennese  is  somewhat  troublesome,"  re- 
plied the  Emperor  smiling  ;,  "  but  let  us  call  this  eagerness  to  be  with 
us,  love,'and  then  it  will  cease  to  be  irksome."  •  « 

"  Pardon  me,  your  Majesty,  if  I  venture  to  say  that  under  any  aspect 
it  would  be  most  irksome  to  us.  If  your^Iajesty  will  excuse  my  free- 
dom, I  think  that  in  opening  all  th.e  gardens  to  the  people,  you  have 
made  too  great  a  concession  to  thei'r  convenience." 

•'  You  really  think  so  ?" 

"  Yes,  sire,  and  1  beg  you  to  hear^the  request  I  have  to  prefer." 

"  Speak  on,  Count." 

"  Then,  your  Majesty,  in  the  nanie  of  every  nobleman  in  Vienna,  and 
above  all,  in  the  name  of  our  nobl^  ladies,  1  beseech  of  you  grant  us 
the  exclusive  privilege  of  owe  garden  vvherc  we  may  meet  unmolested 
by  the  rabble.  Give  us  the  u^ie  of  the  Prater  that  we  may  have  some 
spot  in  Vienna  where  we  can  breathe  the  fresh  air  in  the  company  of 
our  equals  alone."  »       * 

The  Emperor  had  listened^  with  a  supevcilious  smile.  "  Ypu  desire  to 
see  none  but  your  equals,  say  yo'u?  If  I  were  to  indulge  in  a  similar 
whim,  I  should  have  to  seek  companionship  in  the  crypts  of  the  Capu- 
chins.* But  for  my  part ;l  hold  all  men  as  my  equals,  and  my  noble 
subjects  will  be  obliged  to  .•'follow  my  example.  1  shall  certainly  not 
close  any  of  the  gardens  against  the  people,  for  I  esteem  and  love  them."f 

The  Emperor,  as  he  concluded,'  bowed  and  turned  to  greet  the  Coun- 
tess Pergen. 

"  Welcome,  Countess,  to  Vienna,"  said  he  bowing.  "  Yo\i  have  been> 
away  for  some  time.     May  I  enquire  how  you  are?" 

Trcs-bien,  voire  Majesie,''^  replied  the  Couiitess  with  a  profound  curtsey. , 

The  Emperor  frowned.  "  Why  do  you  not  speak  German?"  said  he- 
curtly.     "  We  are  certainly  in  Germany." 

And  without  vouchsafing  another  word  to  the  discorafitted  lady, '  he 
turned  his  back  upon  her.     Suddenly  his  face  brightened  and  he  pressed 

, u___^ — , . 

*  The  E'T.peror's  own  wo'ds.    Bairshorn's  Life  of  Joseph  II. 

t  "Whon  the  Emperor  opened  the  Park  to  ihe  people,  he  cnueed  the  following  inscripticn  to  be 
ii'.aeed  over  the  principal  unirauoe,  '  Dedicated  (o  all  men  by  one  who  esteem*  them." 


EMrEKOR    OP   MSTKIA.  ,  Cy.i 

eagerly  through  the  crowd,  towards  a"  pale  j'ftung  man  who  met  his  smi- 
lin;^  gaze  with  one  of  recI[irocal  friendliness. 

Joseph  extended  his  hand,  and  his  courtiers  saw  with  surprise  that; 
this  person  whose  brown  coat  was  without  a  single  order,  instead  of 
raising  the  Emperor's  hands  to  his  lips,  as  was  customary  at  court,  s-hoolc 
it  as  if  they  had  been  equals. 

"  See,"  cried- Joseph,  .''here  is  our  young  maestro,  Mozart.  Did  you 
come  to  the  park  to-day  to  teach  the  nightingales  to  sing?" 

"  Heaven  forbid,  your  ISIajesty  ;  rather  would  I  learn  from  the  tune- 
ful songsters  whom  God  has  taught.  Perhaps  some  of  these  day -s  1  may 
iry  to  imitate  their  notes  myself'" 

The  Emperor  laid  his  hand  upon  Mozart's  shoulder,  and  looked  wi'ii 
enthusiasm  upon  his  pale,  inspired  countenance.  "Mozart  has  no  nefd 
to  learn  from  tlie  nightingale,"  said,  lie,  '"  for  God  has  filled  his  hearr. 
with  melody,  and  he  has  only  to  transfer  it  to  paper  to  ravish  the  world 

with  its  strains.     Now  for  your  'Abduction  from  the  ylv^e  Goites'' 

nay.  do  not  blush  ;  1  am  a  child  of  Vienna  and  must  have  my  jest  with 
the  Viennese — Tell  me — which  gave  you  most  trouble,  that  or  your 
opera  ''Die  Eiif/T/Jmnv/  ans  deni  SeraiV  ?"* 

'•Truly,"  replied  Mozart,  still  somewhat  embarrassed,  '' the  abduction 
from  the  Aujc  Gotles,  sire.  I  had  to  ^igh  and  sue  imtil  1  v.as  uigh  unlo 
despair-.befbre  I  was  successful." 

"•  But  you  concluded  both  works  on  the  same  day." 

'*Ye3,  sire.  First  that  which  lay  in  my  head,  ^nd  then  that  which 
was  nearest  my  heart." 

"  1  congratulate  you  upon  the  success  vf  both.  '  Die  L'nfftchrunp  avs 
<fem  ScraW  is  a  charming  opera  !  Charming,  but  it  contains  too  many 
notes." 

"Only  as  many  as  were  necessary,  sire,"  said  Mozart,  looking  full  in 
the  Emperor's  face. 

Joseph  smiled.  "Perhaps  so,  for  you  must  be  a  better  judge  of  the 
necessity  than  I.  For  that  very  reason,"  added  he,  lowering  his  voice 
to  a  whisper,  "  I  have  sent  you  my  Sonata  for  revision.  Like  all  inex- 
perienced composers,  \  am  anxious  to  know  my  fate.  Tell  me,  what  do 
you  think  of  my  Sonata,  Herr  Kapellmeister  T^ 

Mozart  was  .silent,  while  the  Emperor  waited  anxiously  for  his  reply. 
"  Why  do  you  not  speak  1"  said  he  impatiently.  "  Tell  rac,  what  do 
jou  think  of  my  Sonata?" 

"The  Sonata,  sire,  is — good,"  returned  Mozart  with  some  hesitation, 
"but  ne  who  composed  it,"  added  he  smiling,  "  is  much  better.  Your 
Majesty  must  not  take  it  ill,  if  you  find  some  of  your  passages  stricken 
out." 

The  Emperor  laughed.     Ah  ! — too  many  notes,  as  I  jufitnow  remark- 

*  On  the  day  of  the  representation  of  the  Opern  "  Pie  Entfvhrxinq  O'lx  dem  Seradl,'''  in  Vi«nnn, 
Mozart  r«naway  with  his  <^oustanco.  He  conducted  her  to  ihe  houi=e  of  a  cnmoion  iViend,  where 
they  were  married.  This  same  friend  brought  about  a  reconcllimiou  »ith  the  mother  "f.  Constance. 
The  house  in  which  the  widow  and  her  daughter  lived,  ■vras-cnlled  "  (hiit  Auge  Gottes,'^  and  the 
Viennese  who  knew  the  history  of  .Mozart's  marrlagov  bad  called  it  "  Dia  Kntfuhning  out  «[«»>■ 
A'iffe  <?of'e»."— Licscn's  Life  of  Mwart. 


(il  ,  ^  JOKKPIl   THE  SECOND. 

ed  of  jour  opera — only  tliaf  from  your  judgment  there  Can 'be  no  appeal. 
Well— .-give  us  a  new  opera,  and  let  it  be  comic.  Music  should  rejoice, 
not.  grieve  up.     Addio.^'* 

Hg  then  returned  to  the  group  which  ho  had  lefi,  none  of  whom  seem- 
ed to  have  been  much  eqmforied  by  the  familiafily  of  the  Emperor  with 
a  poor  little  JuiveUincisle):  • 

"  My  hour  of  recreation  is  over,"  said  Joseph,  "  but  as  you  know  that 
I  am  no  lover  of  etiquette,  l^t  no  one  retire  on  'my  accourt.  I  know 
where  to  find  my  equerry-,  and  prefer  to  find  him  alone."  With  these 
words  he  turned  away. 

Suddenly  he  was  seen  to  stop  and  frown  visibly.  With  a  quick  mo- 
tion of  the  hand,  he  signed  to  Count  Podstadsky  Liechtenstein  to  ap- 
proach. 

As  Podstadsky  was  about  to  make  a  profound  inclination,  the  Empe- 
ror.interrupted  him  roughly,  "No  cecemony — we  have  no  time  to  be 
complimentary.     What  are  you  doing  in  Vienna?" 

The  Count  saw  that  his  Sovereign  was,  angry.  "  Sire,"  replied  he, 
*'  I  spend  my  time  just  as  it  happens "  • 

"That  .is,  you  ride,  walk,  gamble  and  carouse,  when  you  are  doing 
nothing  worse.  I  tliought  you  had  left  Vienna.  You  bad  better  go  up- 
on vour  estates,  and  attend  to  the  welfxre  of  your  vassals.  Idleness  is 
the  parent  of  crime,  and  I  fear  that  if  you  remain  another  day  in  YiGnna, 
you  will  bring  disgrace  upon  your'ftither's  name.     Go  .at  once."f  , 

Count  Podstadsky  looked  in  wonder  after  the* Emperor.  "Is  this  ac- 
cident or  design  ?  Does  he  suspect  something,  or  is  he  only  trying  to 
induce  me  to  work,  as  he  does  every  nobleman  1  Ah,  bah  ! — I  must  see 
Arabella,  and  hear  what  she  thinks  of  it !" 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 


THE  PARTING. 


TnEV  sat  together  in  the  little  boudoir  which  had  so  often  rung  with^ 
their  laughter,  and  where  they  had  so  often  sneered  at  their  titled  dupes 
in  Vienna.  '       , 

There  was  no  laughtar  to-day  :  the  beautiful  features  of  the  Countess 
Baiilou  were  contracted  with  alarm,  and  the  frivolous  Podstadsky  was 
thoughtful  and  serious. 

The  Countess  was  superbly  dressed.  A  rich  robe  of  velvet  embrpid- 
ered  with  gold,  fell  in  heavy  glistening  folds  around  her  graceful  figure ; 

•  Thii  interview  is  strictly  historical.    Nisson's  Life  of  Mozart. 

t  The  Emperor's  own  words  to  Podstadsiky.    Anecdotes,  Ac,  of  the  Emperor  Jofeph  II. 


a  diadem  of  briliiants  sparkled  like  a  constellation  upoii  the  blackness 
of  her  luxuriant  hair,  and  her  exquisite  neck  and  arms  were  covered 
■with  costly  gems.  She  had  just  completed  her  toilet  for  a  dinner  given 
by  the  Princess  Karl  Liechtenstein,  vhen  Podsladsky  had  met  her  with 
the  alarming  intelligence  which  had  obliged  her  to  send  an  excuse. 

For  one  whole  hour  they  had  been  considering  their  situation  !  Con- 
sidering those  words  of  the  Emperor ;  now  planning  one  method  of  es- 
cape, now  another. 

'•Then  you  do  not  believe  that  the  danger  is  imminent,"  said  Pods- 
tadsky,  after  a  long,  auxioi's  pause. 

"  I  do  not,"  replied  the  Countess.  "  Tho  P^mperor  has  always  been 
fond  of  advising  other  people  and  of  humbling  the  Austrian  arifitocracy; 
above  all  when  the  people  are  by  to  hear  him,  and  he  can  make  capital 
out  of  it  to  increase  his  popularity,  1  suppose  his  rudeness  to  you  was 
all  assumed  to  make  an  impression  upon  the  foolish  populace  That 
is  all." 

Podstadsky  shook  his  he^d.  "  The  tone  of  the  Emperor  was  so  point- 
ed.    It  seemed  as  though  some  special  meaning  lay  in  his  words." 

"That,  my  dear  Carlo,  simply  means  that  fear  caused  you  to  inter- 
pret them  significantly. " 

"  TM»  words  themselves  were  significant  enough,   and  his  look  ! 

Oh,  Arabella,  we  are  in  danger !     Dearest,  let  us  fly,  fly  at  once  !" 

He  had  risen  and  in  his  anguish  had  tried  to  draw  her'to  himself.  She 
put  him  quietly  &\\  i  \'.  and  contemplated  him  with  a  sneer.  "  No  folly  !" 
said  she.  "  Even  if  the  Emperor  had  meant  to  warn  you,  his  warning 
came  too  late  to  save  you  from  the  watchful  police  of  Vienna." 

'I  No,  no,  Arabella.  I  tell  you  that  the  Emperor  will  facilitate  my 
escape  for  my  parents'  sake. — Oh.  why  did  1  not;  obey,  and  mount  mv 
horse  at  once,  and  fly  to  some  sequestered  vale  where  I  might  have  found 
refuge  from  dishonor !" 

"And  where  you  might  realize  your  mother's  touching  dream  of  be- 
coming a  boor,  and  repenting  your  sins  in  sackcloth  and  ashes  !  That 
maternal  idyl  still  troubles  your  poor,  shallow  brain,  does  it? — For  my 
part  I  think  no  spectacle  on  earth  is  so  ridiculous  as  that  of  the  repentant 
sinner.  It  is  the  most  humiliating  character  in  which  a  man  can  appear 
before  the  world,  and  it  is  unworthy  of  you.  Carlo,     Hold  up  your  head 

and  look  this  phantom  of  danger  in  the  face.     It  is  but  a  phantom the 

bright,  beautiful  reality  of  our  luxurious  life  is  .^substantially  before  us. 
Away  with  cowardice  ! — He  who  treads  the  path  which  we  have  trodden, 
must  cast  all  fear  behind  him.  Ha:d  we  been  scrupulous,  or  faint-heart- 
ed, you  would  have  been  to-day  a  ruined  nobleman,  dependent  upon  the 
pittance  doled  out  to  you  from  parental  hands,  or  upon  some  little  oftioe 
pompously  bestowed  by  the  Emperor,  and  I — Ha!  ha!— f  should  have 
been  a  psalm-chaunting  nun,  with  other  drowsy  nuns  for  my  companions 
through  life,  and  a  chance  of  dying  in  the  odor  of  sanctity  ! — We  were 
too  wise  for  that;  and  now  the  structure  of  our  fortunes  is  complete. 
Its  gilded  dome  reaches  into  the  heaven/of  the  moat  exclusive  circles  • 


fiG  '  JOSKl'H   THK  8EC0NI). 

prince?,  duke?,  and  sovereigns  are  our  guests — in   the  name  of  all  for 
which  we  have  striven,  Carlo,  what  would  you  have  more !" 

"  I  atn  afraid  that  the  structUie  will  fall  and  bury  us  under  its  ruins," 
fsaid  Carlo  shivering. 

"  Better  that  than  inglorious  flight.  Stay  where  you  are ;  show  a  bold 
front,  and  that  will  disarm  suspicion. — Why  do  you  gaze  at  me  so 
btrangely  ?" 

"i  gaze  at  you  because  you  are  so  beautiful,"  replied  he  with  a  taint 
smile,  "  as  beautiful  as  was  that  fallen  angel  who  compassed  the  ruin 
of  man !" 

"  1  avi  a  fillen  angel,"  returned  she  proudly,  "  and  you  know  it.  To- 
gether we  fell,  together  we  have  risen.  So  long  as  we  smile,  we  shall 
compass  the  ruin  of  many  men  ;  but  if  once  we  frown,  we  shall  be  known 
as  evil  spirits,  and  our  power  is  at  an  end.  Smiles  are  the  talismans 
that  ensure  victory  ;  so  smile,  Carlo,  smile  and  be  gay." 

"  I  cannot,  I  cannot.  My  veins  are  chilled  with  vague  terror,  and 
ever  before  my  eyes,  comes  the  pale  and  anguish-stricken  face  of  my 
Brother  ! — Arabella,  if  you  will  not  leave  this  accursed  spot,  let  us  die. 
Better  is  death  than  the  dungeon  and  disgrace!" 

He  threw  his  arms  around  her,  and  pressed  his  hot,  parche(%  lips  to 
hers.  Again  she  disengaged  herself,  and  her  musical  laugh  rang  out 
upon  the  stillness,  clear,  merry,  silvery  as  ever.  "  Die! — Are  you  tired 
of  pleasure  ■?  I  am  not.  I  shall  yet  have  many  an  intoxicating  draught 
from  its  golden  beaker.  Die  !-^As  if  we  knew  what  came  after  death  ! 
— But  come — I  pity  your  state  of  mind,  and  since  you  can  no  longer  be 
happy  in  Vienna,  we  shall  travel — mark  you  !  I  say  travel;  but  there 
shall  be  no  flight." 

Count  Podstadsky  uttered  a  cry  of  wild  joy,  and  pressed  the  hand 
she  gave  him.  to  his  lips.     "  Wheri  shall  we'travel?     Now  ?" 

She  shook  her  head.     "  That  were  flight.     We  start  to-morrow." 

"To-morrow  !"  cried  he  exultingly,  "  to-morrow,  at  dawn  of  day  !" 
•    "  By  no  means.     To-morrow  at  noon,  in  the  sight  of  the  whole  world." 

"  Be  it  so  then,"  sighed  the  Count.  "We  go  by  diflferent  roads  and 
meet  at  Neust^idt." 

"Yes,  at  Neustadt.  And  now  go,  Carlo.  We  both  have  important 
arrangements  to  make  before  we  leave." 

"  /have  very  little  to  do,"  laughed  Podstadsky,  who  had  already  re- 
covered his  spirits.  My  valuables  all  belong  to  the  usurers.  For  some 
time  past  they  have  stationed  an  agent  of  theirs  in  my  house  as  stew- 
ard.    He  watches  over  their  property  ;  I  have  no  interest  in  it." 

*'■  Why  don't  you  pav  them  with  your  nice  new  bank-notes,  hey 
Carlo  1" 

Carlo  grew  troubled  again.  "  I  did  try  to  do  so,  but  they  refused. 
They  had  given  me  gold,  and  must  have  gold  in  return." 

'•So  much  the  belter.  Your  banknotes  will  meet  with  a  better  re- 
ception elsewhere,"  said  Arabella  hurriedly.  "  But  come,  let  us  go  to 
work.    Burn  all  indiscreet  papers,  and  take  everything  that  you  can  sc- 


KMPBROK   OF   AUSTillA. 

Crete.  And  nov  away  with  yon  ;  I  must  be  alone,  for  I  have  enough  to 
do  to  keep  tne  up  this  livelong  nijiht.  Clear  your  brows,  my  Carlo, 
and  sleep  free  from  anxiety.  To-morrow  we  leave  Vienna,  and  your 
trials  will  be  at  an  end.     Aildio,  caro  omico  mio,  addiof" 

He  kissed  her  hand,  and  she  accompanied  him  to  the  door.  He  closed 
it  behind  him,  while  she  stood  breathless,  listening  to  his  retreating  foot- 
steps. Now  he  was  on  the  staircase.  The  heavy  street-door  closed — 
a  moment's  delay,  and  his  carriage  rolled  away.  Yes — he  was  oU'  at 
last.     Thank  heaven,  he  was  off! 


CHAPTER  XIX. 


COLONEL  SZEKULY. 


Arabella  listened — listened  until  the  sound  of  the  wheels  had  died 
away,  theii  she  laughed.  "  He  thinks  1  am  fool  enough  to  share  his  dis- 
grace! As  if  I  had  not  long  ago  foreseen  that  this  was  to  be  the  end  of 
that  hair-brained  fool !  in  expectation  of  his  fate  J  have  been  counter- 
mining with  old  Szekuly,  and  his  foolish  old  hands  have  flung  up  sho- 
vels of  gold  as  we  went  along.  Bright,  shining  ducats  which  shall  go  with 
nite  to  Paris !  Now  I  am  free,  free  from  my  dangerous  accomplice,  free 
from  my  tiresome  old  adorer,  whose  love  for  me  so  nearly  approaches 
insanity  that  it  may  lead  him  to  compromise  himself  in  more  ways  than 
one.  But  he  must  not  compromise  me  !  For  the  world  as  yet,  I  am 
the  modest,  virtuous  Countess  Baillou,  chaste  as  I  am  beautiful!" 

While  she  soliloquised  thus,  the  Countess  walked  hurriedly  through 
the  room  with  folded  arms,  fiery  eyes,  and  on  her  lips  a  smile — but  what 
a  smile !  Alone  in  that  gorgeous  apartment,  with  her  sinister  beauty, 
and  her  angry,  flashing  jewels,  she  might  have  been  mistaken  for  a  ma- 
lign spirit  who  had  just  left  her  kingdom  of  darkness  to  visit  the  earth 
with  ruin  ! 

"It  is  evident,"  said  she,  musing,  "  that  the  Emperor  meant  to  warn 
him  ;  and  it  follows  that  as  he  has  not  fled  to-day  he  is  lost !  And  he 
shall  be  lost,  for  I  must  be  free.  I  cannot  aflbrd  to  share  my  hardly- 
earned  winnings  with  him.  He  must  away  to  prison  ;  it  is  my  only 
chance  for  freedom.'' 

"•  But  if  after  all  the  Emperor  should  connive  at  his  escape  !  Or  if 
he  should  be  seized  with  a  fit  of  suspicion  and  return  !  Good  heavens, 
now  that  fortune  favors  me,.  I  must  snatch  -security  while  it  lies  within 
my  grasp!" 


(58  .  ■  JOSEPH   THB  SECOND. 

Here  she  rang  so  violently  that  the  valet  who  was  in  the  ante-room 
alruoht  precipitated  himself  into  her  presence. 

"  If  Count  Liechtenstein  Podstadsky  calls,  say  that  I  am  not  at  home. 
Apprize  the  other  servants,  and  add  that  he  is  never  to  find  admittance 
into  this  house, again.  •  Whosoever,  after  this,  admits  him,  even  to  the 
vestibule,  shall  leave  my  service.     Away  with  you  !" 

"And  uow,"  continued  she,  as  the  valet  closed  the  door,  "  now  to 
work."  She  went  towards  a  mirror  and  there  unfastened  her  diadem, 
then  her  necklace,  brooch  and  bracelets.  With  her  hands  fall  of  jewels 
she  iiew  to  her  dressinjf-room  and  deposited  them  in  their  respective 
cases.  Then  she  opened  a  large,  brass-bound  casket,  and  counted  her 
treasures. 

The  first  thing  that  came  to  light  was  a  necklace  of  diamond  solitaires. 
"  These  three  stars  of  the  first  magnitude,"  said  she,  contemplating  the 
centre  stones,  "are  the  involuntary  contribution  of  the  Princess  Garam- 
pi.  1  borrowed  her  bracelet  for  a  model,  giving  my  word  that  it  should 
not  pass  from  ray  hands.  Nor  has  it  done  so,  for  I  have  kept  her  bril- 
liants and  returned  her mine.     She  is  never  the  wiser,  and  I  am  the 

richer  thereby.  For  this  string  of  pearls,  with  the  superb  ruby  clasp,  I 
am  indebted  to  her  Highness,  the  Princess  Palm.  One  evening  as  £ 
welcomed  her  with  an  embrace,  I  made  out  to  unfasten  it  while  1  rela- 
ted to  her  a  piquant  anecdote  of  her  husband's  mistress.  Of  course  she 
•was  too  much  absorbed  in  my  narrative  to  feel  that  her  necklace  wi^iS 
slipping,  for  I  was  not  only  entertaining,  but  very  caressing  on  the  oc- 
casion. There  was  music  in  the  room  so  that  no  one  heard  the  treasure 
faill.  The  necklace — a  perfect  fertune,  lay  at  my  feet;  I  moved  my 
train  to  cover  it,  and  signed  to  Carlo,  who,  1  must  say,  was  alwjivs 

within  call.     He  invited  the  Princess  to  dance,  and the  pearls  found 

their  way  to  ray  pocket.  What  a  talk  that  loss  made  in  Vienna! 
What  offers  of  reward  that  poor  woman  made  to  recover  her  necklace! 
— All  in  vain,  and  nobody  condoled  more  atTectionately  with  her  than 

the  charming,  kind-hearted  Countess  Baillou.    This  arrow But  pshaw ! 

what  a  child  I  am  to  be  gloating  over  my  precious  toys  while  time  pas- 
ses  away,  and  I  must  be  off  to-night !" 

She  closed  her  boxes,  replaced  them  in  her  strong,  well-secured  cask- 
et, and  having  locked  it,  hung  the  key  around  her  neck.  "  Here  lies  the 
price  of  a  princely  estate,"  said  she,  "and  now  I  must  attend  to  my 
ducats." 

She  stood  upon  a  chair,  and  took  from  the  wall  a  picture.  Then  pres- 
sing a  spring  behind  it,  a  little  door  flew  open,  revealing  a  casket  simi- 
lar to  the  one  containing  her  jewels.  She  took  it  down  and  placing  it 
on  the  table,  contemplated  the  two  boxes  with  profound  satisfaction. 

"  Twenty  thousand  lovers'  eyes  look  out  from  this  casket,"  said  she 
with  a  laugh,."  all  promising  a  future  of  triumphant  joy  !  Twenty  thou- 
sand ducats  !  The  fruits  of  my  savings !  And  dear  old  Szekuly  has. 
made  economy  very  easy  for  some  months  past,  for  one  half  of  these 
ducats  once  belonged  to  him.     To  be  sure  I  gave  him  in  return  the  deeds 


ly   M'S'Ki.i 


of  an  entail  which  I  own  in  Italy,  and  which  he  can  easily  re-eonverfc  in- 
to money.  At  least  he  thinks  so.  Well — f  owe  him  nothing.  We 
iiiade  an  exchange,  and  that  is  all !" 

After  this  edifying  monologue,  the  Countess  exchanged  her  elen^ant 
costume  for  a  simple  traveling-dress,  and  as  sho  completed  her  toilet, 
the  clock  struck  eight.  Everything  being  ready,  she  returned  to  her 
boudoir  and  rang  once.  This  signified  that  her  confidential  valet  was 
wanted.  In  a  few  moments  the  door  opened,  and  an  old  man,  whose 
dark  hair  and  eyes  marked  his  Italian  birth,  entered  noiselessly.  The 
Countess  bade  him  close  the  door  and  approach.  He  obeyed  without 
the  least  manifestation  of  surprise,  muttering  as  he  went,  "walls  have 
ears. 

"Giuseppe,"  said  his  mistress,  "are  you  still  willing  to  follow  me?" 

"  Did  I  not  swear  to  your  mother,  my  beloved  benefactress,  nev.er  to 
abandon  you,  Signora?" 

"Thanks  amico  ;  then  we  leave  Vienna  tonight." 

"  I  beard  the  order  forbidding  Count  Podstadsky  the  house,  Signorn, 
and  1  made  ready  to  depart." 

"  Good  arid  faithful  Giuseppe  !  Since  you  are  ready,  nothing  need  de- 
tain us.  Go  at  once  and  order  post-horpes,  and  come  with  the  travel- 
ing carriage  to  the  corner  of  the  street  above  this." 

"■Si  Signora  ;  I  shall  leave  the  carriage  there,  come  for  the  two  cask- 
ets; you  will  then  go  out  by  the  postern,  and  having  joined  us,  we  are 
oir.     'is  that  your  will?" 

"  Yes,  Giuseppe,  yes.     Go  for  your  life." 

"  Be  ready  to  leave  the  house  in  one  hour,  Signora,  for  you  know  that 
I  am  a  swift  messenger."  '  - 

The  old  man  bowed  and  retreated  as  silently  as  he  came.  His  mis- 
tress looked  after  him.saying,  "There  goes  a  jewel  which  I  have  neither 
borrowed  nor  stolen  ;  it  comes  to  me  by  the  inalienable  right  of  inheri- 
tance.    Now  I  can  rest  until  he  returns." 

With  a  deep  sigh  of  relief,  she  tltrew  herself  upon  the  divan,  and  clo- 
sing her  eyes,  gave  herself  up  to  rosy  dreams.  She  had  not  lain  long 
before  the  door  opened  and  a  valet  announced  "  Colonel  Szekuly." 

"  J  cannot  receive  him,"  exclaitned  she  without  rising. 

"You  must  receive  him,  Coimtess,"  said  a  voice  behind  her,  and  start- 
ing from  the  divan,  she  beheld  the  tall  form  of  her  "  tiresome  old  adorer," 
enveloped  in  a  military  cloak,  with  his  plumed  hat  drawn  far  over  his 
brow.  Before  she  had  time  to  speak,  he  had  dismissed  the  valet  and 
closed  the  door,     . 

"  You  presume  strangely  upon  your  influence,"  cried  Arabella,  half- 
amused,  half  angry.  "  Because  you  reign  over  my  heart,  you  aspire  to 
reign  over  my  domestics,  I  perceive." 

"  Peace  !"  cried  the  Colonel  imperatively.  "  I  have  not  come  hither 
to  suck  poison  from  your  honied  lips.  I  have  already  had  enough  to 
cause  my  death.  Though  you  have  cruelly  decei-  ed  me,  I  come  to  give 
you  a  last  proof  of  my  love.     Do  not  interrupt  me." 


TO  JOSEPH  THB  SKCOm>. 

*'  I  will  not  breathe,"'  said  she  with  asmileso  beM'ilching  that  Szekuly 
averted  his  eyes,  forit  maddened  him. 

"You  know,"  said  he,  and  the  old  man's  voice  faltered  as  he  spoke, 
"  that  the  Director  of  Police  is  my  friend.  1  had  invited  him  to  dine 
■with  me.  He  came  but  half  an  hour  ago  to  excuse  himself  because  of 
an  arrest  of  some  importance.     Do  you  gueds  whoKe  arrest?" 

'•  How  should  T  guess '"  said  she,  still  with  that  cnohanting  smile. 
"  I  have  no  acquaintance  with  the  police." 

"  God  grant  that  you  may  never  make  their  acquaintance!"  ejacula- 
ted he  hoarsely.  "They  have  just  now  arrested  Count  Podstadsky." 
Not  a  feature  of  her  face  changed,  as  she  replied.  "Ah !  Count  Pod- 
stadsky arrested  *?     I  am  sorry  to  hear  it.     Can  you  tell  \ne  why  j" 

"For  forsinir  bank-notes  to  the  amount  of  a  million  of  florins." 

"I  suspected  as  much;  1  have  several  times  been  the  victim  of  his 
thousand-florin  notes." 

"The  victim,  Countess?     Is  that  an  appropriate  e.\pression ?" 

"  I  think  it  IS,"  replied  she,  quietly.     "  Is  that  all  the  news?" 

"  No,  Countess.     The  Count  is  taken,  but  his  accomplice " 

She  breathed  quickly  and  her  mouth  quivered,  but  she  rallied  and 
made  answer.     '•  He  bad  accomplices  ?" 

*'  He  had  an  accomplice,  and bush  !  we  have  no  time  for  falsehood. 

Every  moment  is  precious  to  you.  Perhaps  the  Director  of  the  Police 
came  to  me  because  knowing  how — -1  have  loved  you,  he  would  rescue 
you  from  shame.  Let  ns  hope  that  he  did — for  he  told  me  that  he  had 
orders  to  arrest  the  Countess  Baiilou." 

"  When  ?"  asked  she  almost  inaudibly  ;  and  now  her  face  was  pale 
as  death. 

"  At  dusk,  that  you  might  be  spared  ttfti  curiosity  of  a  crowd." 

Arabella  sprang  from  her  couch.  ''  It  is  already  night,"  cried  she, 
her  voice  rising  almost  to  a  scream. 

"Yes,"  replied  her  lover,  "but  I  hope  vve  have  time.  I  have  prepar- 
ed everything  for  your  flight.  My  carriage  and  postillions  await  you  in 
the  next  street.     Be  quick  and  you  may  escape." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  exclaimed  she.  "  Give  me  but  one  moment."  She  flew 
to  her  dressing-room,  and  tried  to  carry  her  two  boxes.  But  the  ducats 
were  too  heavy. 

"  I  must  leave  the  jewels,"  said  she,  and  climbing  up  again  with  her 
casket,  she  concealed  it  in  the  wall,  and  replaced  the  picture.  "It  is  at 
all  events  perfectly  safe,  and  Giuseppe' will  come  for  it." 

"  Conie,"  cried  Szekuly  from  the  drawing-room. 

"  I  come,"  answered  tiUe,  while  she  wrapped  a  cloak  about  her  and 
wilh  trembling  hands  tied  on  her  traveling  hat. 

*'  Give  me  your  box,"  said  Szekuly,  "  it  will  impede  your  movements." 

But  she  held  it  fa^t,  and  said,  "  No — they  are  my  jewels,  now  my 
only  riches." 

"  And  you  are  afraid  to  trust  them  with  me  ?"  asked  he  with  a  bitter 
smile.     "  To  me,  who  will  die  of  your  treachery  !" 


aaVKKOK    OF  AUSTRIA.  '  ' 

"  People  do  not  die  so  easily,"  said  she,  trying  to  smilo ;  Init  her 
teelh  chattered,  as  in  vrild  haste,  she  flew,  rather  than  ran  down  the 
grand  staircase,  and  arrived  bceathk'ss  before  the  door.  The  porter 
opened  it  in  wonder.  The  night-air  blew  into  her  face,  and  revived  her 
courage.     Now  she  might  breathe  freely,  for  she  was 

P.ut  no  !  From  the  dark  recesses  of  the  stone  portico  emerged  three 
muflled  figures,  and  one  of  them  laid  his  rough  grasp  upon  the  delicate 
arm  of  the  Countess  und  dragged  her  back  into  the  vestibule. 

"Too  late,  too  late,"  murmured  the  Colonel,  passively  following, 
while  his  heart  bled  for  the  treacherous  woman  whom  he  would  have 
died  to  save. 

"  Countess  Arabella  B;iil]ou,"  said  one  of  the  figures,  "1  arrest  you 
in  the  name  of  the  Emperor." 

She  looked  defiance  at  him.  "Who  are  you  that  dare  arrest  me?" 
He  took  off  his  hat  and  bowed  derisively.  "  I  am  the  Director  of  Police, 
Countess,  very  much  at  your  service.  Here  is  my  authority  for  your 
arrest." 

He  would  have  shown  her  the  Emperor's  signature,  but  she  dashed 
.nway  the  paper,  and  fastening  her  angry  eyes  upon  Sztkuly,  who  was 
leaning  against  a  marble  pillar,  she  said, 

"  That  is  your  dear  friend,  is  it  ?  -  You  have  been  playing  the  detec- 
tive, have  you?  Inducing  me  to  fly,  that  my  flight  might  expose  me  to 
suspicion  !" 

The  Colonel  cried  out  as  though  he  had  been  wounded.  "  By  all  that 
is  sacred  in  heaven,  I  would  have  saved  you,"  sobbed  he. 

"And  for  your  attempt  1  am  obliged  to  detain  you  also,  my  poor,  un- 
happy friend,"  said  the  Director  of  the  Police.  "  But  you  will  soon  be 
able  to  prove  your  innocence.  Let  one  of  these  men  accompany  yon 
home,  and  there,  remain  under  arrest  until  you  hear  from  me.  Now, 
madam,  follow  me  if  you  please." 

"Allow  mc  first  to  speak  a  word  of  consolation  to  my  generous  pro- 
tector," said  the  Countess. 

"  Certainly,  madam." 

Arabella  bowed  her  beautiful  head  and  approached  Szekuly,  who  was 
scarcely  able  to  stand,  so  great  was  his  eniotion. 

"CoIoneJ  Szekuly,"  said  she,  ia  a  whisper,  "you  lent  me  fifty  thou- 
sand florins  upon  some  Italian  securities  of  mine.  They  are  all  forgeries. 
I  forged  them  myself,  as  well  as  all  the  fine  letters  of  introduction  with 
which  I  befooled  the  aristocracy  of  Vienna." 

Szekuly  stared  for  one  moment  at  his  tormentor,  then  hastily  pressing 
his  hand  to  his  heart,  he  sank  with  a  low  sigh  upon  the  marble  floor. 

The  Countess  laughed  out  aloud.  "He  has  fainted  !"  exclaimed  she. 
"  Contemptible  world,  wherein  men  act  like  women,  and  women  like 
men !  '  Come,  gentlemen.  I  am  ready  to  follow  you,  but  my  innocence 
will  speedily  be  reestablished,  and  the  Emperor  then  will  owe  me  an 
apology  for  his  want  of  courtesy." 


/uSKfH    TUB   3K<!0Nb. 


CHAPTER  XX. 
xnK  popk"s  departure. 

The  people  pf  Vienna  were  enraptured  to  the  last  with  the  visit  of 
<he  Pope.  Whenever  he  appeared  they  sank  upon  their  knees,  as  with 
his  bewitching  smile,  he  gave,  them  his  benediction.  But  these  acciden- 
tal meetings  did  not  satisfy  the  zeal  of  the  Viennese;  they  longed  to  re- 
ceive a  formal  and  solemn  blessing,  pronounced  in  the  Cathedral  from 
the  Papal  throne. 

High  upon  this  throne  sat  the  Holy  Father  in  his  pontifical  robes,  his 
triple-crown  upon  his  head,  aivl  the  diamond  cross  of  his  order  upon  his 
breast.  His  canopy  was  of  velvet,  richly  embroidered  with  gold,  and 
around  him  were  grouped  the  Princes  of  the  Church.  But  the  Pope,  his 
large  expressive  eyes,  fixed  upon  the  altar,  seemed  isolated  from  all  ec- 
clesiastical pomp,  mindful  alone  of  the  God,  whose  representative  on  earth 
he  was.  And  when  he  rose  to  give  the  papal  benediction,  the  handsome 
face  of  Pius  Sixth  beamed  with  holy  inspiration,  while  the  people  filled 
with  love  and  joy  knelt  to  receive  the  blessing  which  had  been  trans- 
mitted to  them  in  uninterrupted  succession  from  the  Holy  Apostles 
themselves. 

But  however  the  loving  heart  of  the  Pope  might  rejoice  at  his  recep- 
tion by  the  people,  there  were  two  men  in  Vienna  who  resisted  him  with 
ail  the  pride  of  individuality  and  all  the  consciousness  of  their  own  worth 
atid  consequence. 

The  first  of  these  was  the  Emperor.  He  had  sought  continually  to 
remind  the  Pope  that  he  was  lord  of  his  own  domains,  even  although 
ths  head  of  all  Christendom  might  be  his  guest.  He  had  ordered  that 
all  ecclesiastic  ordinances,  before  being  printed,  should  receive  the  impe- 
rial exequatihr.  The  Pope  had  desired  during  his  stay  to  issue  a  bull  iu 
relatio)!  to  the  newly  erected  church  of  St.  Michael.  The  Bull  had  beea 
returned  for  the  signature  of  the  Emperor. 

Other  humiliations  besides  this  had  been  endured  by  the  head  of  the 
Church.  Perhaps  in  the  two  solemn  benedictions  which  he  had  given — 
the  first  in  the  palace-court,  the  second  in  the  Cathedral,  Pius  had  hoped 
to  appear  in  public  with  the  Emperor  as  his  spiritual  vassal,  but  Joseph 
was  careful  not  to  allow  him  this  gratification.  He  had  no  sooner  learn- 
ed that  the  throne  of  the  Pope  in  the  Cathedral  was  being  erected  high- 
er than  his  o\pn,  than  he  ordered  the  imperial  throne  to  be  removed,  and 
excused  himself  from  attendance  at  high  mass  upon  the  pretext  that  he 
was  suffering  from  severe  pain  in  the  eyes,  and  dared  not  encounter  the 
blaze  of  light.     It  was  an  obstinate  case  of  occular  njalady,  for   it  had 


CMva-KOK  or  /»;'STKiA.  73 

already  p-cvcnt^d  him  from  appearing  in  the  palacpi-onurt,  when  deeo- 
luni  would  have  exacted  of  him  to  walk  li"hind  the  Pope. 

The  other  man  who  had  coinpletely  ijrnored  ihe  Pope's  presence  in 
Vienua,  was  Kanniiz.  In  vain  had  his  visit  been  expected  ;  he  never 
<ame.  and  (inhlly  ihe  day  of  the  deoarture  of  his  Holhu'ss  arrived.  He 
had  received  the  adieus  of  the  nobles  and  had  taken  leave  of  the  olerfry. 
At  two  o'clock  he  expectod  the  Emperor,  who  was  to  accompauy  him 
as  far  as  Mariabrunn.  Jt  was  now  eleven,  and  he  had,  therefore,  three 
hours  of  leisure. 

He  rang  for  his  valet  and  bade  him  send  a  mesfienger  to  Prince  Kau- 
nitz,  apprising  him  that  in  half  an  hour  the  Pope  would  visit  him.  A 
few  moments  after  this,  the  door  re-opened  and  the  papal  master  of  cer- 
emonies entered  the  room.  Pius  received  him  with  a  friendly  smile. 
"  I  know  why  you  are  here,"  said  he.  "  You  have  heard  from  Brambil- 
la  that  I  contemplate  a  visit  to  Prince  Kaunitz,  and  you  come  to  remon- 
strate with  me." 

"  Yes,  I  entreat  of  your  Holiness  not  to  take  this  step  which " 

"  Which  is  beneath  the  dignity  of  the  Head  of  the  Church,"  interrup- 
ted Ijius.  "  You  can  well  imagine  that  I  have  already  said  as  much  to 
myself.  I  know  that  in  going  to  visit  this  proud  man,  I  humble  my- 
self But  if  humility  becomes  any  one  of  the  servants  of  God,  it  be- 
comes the  successor  of  Peter,  and  I  have  no  right  to  shrink  from  per- 
sonal humiliation  when  perchance  it  may  win  something  from  kaughti- 
nes3  in  favor  of  the  Church  of  God.  Perhaps  the  advances  I  make  to 
Kaunitz  may  move  his  cold  heart  and  teach  him  to  do  unto  others  as 
others  have  done  unto  him."  '  • 

"But  if  your  Holiness  intends  to  bestow  such  an  unheard-of  honor 
upon  the  Prince,  you  should  at  least  have  given  him  a  day  wherein  to 
inake  suitable  preparations  for  your  coming." 

The  Pope  smiled.  "  Dear  friend,  I  see  further  into  this  man's  heart 
than  you.  I  have  taken  him  unawares  precisely  because  he  woulfl  glad, 
ly  have  added  to  my  humiliation  by  neglecting  the  hint  which  such  an 
announcement  would  have  conveyed.  It  was,  therefore,  better  to  fore- 
stall the  slight  by  making  it  impossible  for  him  to  offer  it  as  a  matter 
of  choice." 

"  But  why  does  your  Holiness  confer  upon  this  disdainful  Austrian 
an  honor  which  he  is  unworthy  to  receive?" 

"Why?  Because  I  feel  it  my  duty  to  leave  nothing  undone  which 
can  be  conducive  to  the  interests  and  glory  of  our  Holy  Mother,  the 
Church.  Who  knows  but  that  the  Lord  may  have  sent  me  to  convert 
an  erring  sinner  from  his  ways.  Go,  my  friend,  go  and  send  my  mes- 
senger; I  must  see  this  man  who  from  his  youth  to  his  old  age  has  de- 
fied the  Lord  of  heaven  and  earth!" 

A  half  an  hour  later  an  imperial  state-carriage  was  before  the  palace  of 
Prince  Kaunitz,  and  the  Pope  followed  by  his  chaplain,  entered  its  lofty 
vestibule.  The  Prince  had  been  diligent,;  for  there  in  their  richest  live- 
ries of  state,  wore  his  whole  household,  and  at  the  foot  of  the  staircase 


7t  josapB  riiK  siicoM* 

over  which  a  rich  Turkey  carpet  had  been  spread  for  the  occasion,  stood 
the  young  Countess  >Clary  ia  full  dress,  who  knelt,  and  in  soft,  trembling 
accents  begged  of  his  Holiness  a  blessing. 

He  laid  his  hand  upon  her  head,  and  then  extended  it,  that  she  might 
press  to  her  lips  the  ring  of  St.  Peter.  He  then  raised  h'ir,  and  begged 
her  to  accompany  hiiii  to  the  presence  of  her  uncle,  tha  Prince. 

As  ihey  walked  together  from  one  magnificent  apartment  to  another, 
the  Countess  was  apologising  for  her  uncle,  who  not  having  left  his  room 
fur  some  weeks,  was  unable  to  come  out  to  receive  his  Holiness  from 
dread  of  encountering  the  cold  air  of  the  halls. 

The  Pope  bowed,  and  followed  the  Countess  until  she  stopped  before 
a  closed  door  and  said,  "In  this  room,  my  uncle  awaits  the  gracious  vi- 
sit of  your  Holiness." 

The  Pope  entered,  but  he  vvas  not  met  on  the  threshold  as  he  had  an- 
ticipated. No  indeed.  Far  from  the  door,  with  the  (^entire  length  of 
the  room  between  them,  Kaunitz  stood  close  to  the  chimney,  where  a 
huge  fire  was  burning.  He  was  in  an  undress  coat,  with  his  hat  upon 
his  head,'*''  and  so  absorbed  in  thought  that  he  was  quite  unaware  of  the 
entrance  of  his  guest  until  the  Countess  Clary,  in  a  loud  voice,  said: 

"  His  Holiness  the  Pope."  ■ 

Kaunitz  now  moved,  and  measuring  his  advance  by  that  of  Piu^,  he 
managed  to  meet  him  just  half-way,  and  as  he  bowed,  he  at  last  conde- 
scended to  take  oft'  his  hat. 

Pius  returned  the  bow,  and  as  is  customary  with  all  independent 
princes,  extended  his  hand  to  be  kissed.  Kaunitz,  with  an  assurance  al- 
most inconceivable,  took  it  within  his  own,  and  giving  it  a  hard  shake 
after  the  English  fashion,  exclaimed,  "  De  tout  mon  coeur  !  De  tout  mon 
coeur  /"j- 

An  expression  of  pain  flitted  over  the  handsome,  noble  features  of  the 
Pope,  and  the  smile  died  upon  his  lips.  But  he  had  expected  humilia- 
tion, {Mid  had  armed  himself  to  endure  it. 

"I  have  come  to  visit  your  Plighness,"  said  he  mildly,  "  because,  al- 
though you  have  not  asked  it,  1  would  fain  leave  with  you  the  blessing 
of  the  Church." 

"  I  thank  your  Holiness  for  the  consideration  you  are  pleased  to  show 
me,"  replied  Kaunitz.  "But  before  all  things  let  me  request  your  per- 
mission to  resume  my  hat.    The  cold  air  is  injurious  to  my  weak  head. "J 

And  whether  to  ward  off  the  cold  air  or  the  blessing  of  the  Church, 
the  old  sinner  replaced  his  hat  without  waiting  to  hear  the  Pope's  reply. 
Pius  could  only  affect  not  to  perceive  the  rudeness,  while  he  seated 
himself  and  invited  the  Prince  to  be  seated  also. 

There  was  a  pause.  Kaunitz  took  the  chair,  and  then  looking  full  in- 
to the  eyes  of  his  guest,  awaited  with  perfect  indifference  the  opening  of 
the  conversation.     The  expression  of  pain  deepened  upon  the  face  of  the 

*  Gross-Hoffinger  III,  p.  8S. 

t  Illstorical.    See  Groas-Hoffinger,  III,  p,  39. 

t  The  Prince's  own  words.    S^e  Bonrgoing.    Pins  VI  nnd  his  Pojit;floate.    P.  22D." 


IMI'rtllOU    OF     AtSTRJA.  V  .;> 

Pope;  but  again  he  recovered  himsoif  and  made  a  second  eflbrt  at  con- 
ciliation. 

"I  have  come  to  give  to  your  Highness  a  proof  of  ray  esteem  and 
consideration,"  said  ho. 

Kaunitz  bowed  stiflly.  "  I  am  so  much  the  more  surprised  at  this 
mark  of  consideration,  that  I  have  never  been  able  to  see  in  your  Holi- 
ness's  state-papers  the  least  recognition  of  my  claims  to  statesman- 
ship." 

"  Perhfips,  we  may  have  misjudged  one  another.  I  have  desired,  in 
visiting  Vienna,  to  heal  all  misunderstandings,  and  to  afford  to  my  sou 
in  Christ,  the  Emperor,  every  facility  for  his  reconciliation  to  the  holy 
Church.  1  have  also  prayed  to  Almighty  God,  to  touch  the  heart  of  your 
Highness,  that  you  also  might  turn  your  steps  towards  the  '  one  fold  '." 

"  I  hope  that  I  have  never  strayed  from  the  path  of  right;.  The  object 
of  my  life  has  been  to  malce  Aiistria  great  and  independent,  and  to  aid 
my  Emperor  in  freeing  his  subjects  from  foreign  dominion.  Today  no 
earthly  potentate  has  a  voice  in  Austria,  save  Joseph  ;  he  is  absolOtc 
master  here,  and  as  all  his  acts  have  been  for  Austria's  good,  sh^  has  en- 
tered at  last  upon  a  career  of  indisputable  prosperity.  But  there  is  noth- 
ing wonderful  in  this,  when  he  had  me  as  a  coadjutor." 

Pius  looked  with  profound  sadness  at;  this  hauglpty  statesman  who  hr.d 
not  a  thought  beyond  the  present  world. 

"You  speak  of  things  that  are  of  the  earth,  earthy.  And  yet  your 
hair  is  white  as  snow,  and  you  an  old  man  hastening  to  the  grave  !  At. 
your  advanced  age  it  would  become  your  Highness,  who  has  done  so 
much  for  your  Sovereign,  to  do  something  now  to  reconcile  yourself  to 
your  Maker."'^' 

Kaunitz  grew  deathly  pale;  nob  all  the  paint  that  besmeared  his  wrin- 
kles, could  conceal  his  pallor.  His  forehead  contracted  and  hung  in 
heavy  folds,  while  his  breath  came  fast  and  gasping.  •  The  Pope  had 
spoken  of  the  grave,  and  the  vuhierable  heel  had  received  a  wound  ! 

It  was  some  time  before  he  could  recover  his  selfpossession — some 
time  again  before  he  could  force  down  his  fury,  and  so  remain  master  of 
the  situation.     At  last  the  victory  was  won  and  he  spoke  calmly. 

"  1  hope,"  said  he,  "  that  having  done  nothing  to  offend  my  Maker,  it 
is  unnecessary  for  me  to  seek  reconciliation  with  Him.  I  have  done  all 
that  1  could  for  religion  ;  it  is  not  my  fault  if  her  interests  are  .not  iden- 
tical with  those  ot  the  Church.  But  pardon  me  that  I  should  have  stray- 
ed  to  themes  so  unbecoming  to  my  character  as  host,  and  yours  as  my 
guest.  Let  us  speak  of  science,  art,  life  and  its  multitudinous  enjoy- 
ments. Your  Holiness,  I  know,  is  a  distinguished  patron  of  the  fine 
arts.  And  as  you  are  fond  of  painting,  allow  me  to  offer  you  a  sight  of 
my  pictures.     You  will  find  them  quit6  worth  your  inspection." 

With  these  words  Kaunitz  rose,  and  without  waiting  for  the  Pop'e's 
consent,  stepped  as  iiastily  forward  as  his  inTirmities  would  permit,  and 
opened  the  door  which  led  to  his  picture-gallery.     The  Pope  followed 
•  The  Tope's  Q-wn  worclsto  K«uui»z     See  Pius,  VT.  and  his  Pontificate,  p.  328. 


tit  ^  /OSKPB    rnjt  SRfiiSD. 

him  leisurely,  and  after  him  came  the  chaplain,  the  Countess  Clary,  and 
Baroi)  Binder. 

Kaunitz  diil  the  honors,  passing  with  visilile  haste  from  one  painting 
to  another.  "  Here,"  said  he,  "  is  a  masterpiece  of  Murillo,  which  the 
Vatican  might  envy  me.  Murillo  who  was  equally  successful  whether 
he  tried  his  hand  at  Virgins  ur  beggar-boys.  Just  look  at  this!  Did 
ever  the  earth  bestow  upon  longing  man  a  more  voluptuously-beautiful 
woman  than  this  dark-eyed  Madonna !" 

"  It  is  a  beautiful  picture,"  murmured  Pius,  approaching  with  the  hope 
of  being  spared  any  more  such  comments  on  art, 

"But  your  Holiness  has  not  the  proper  light,"  cried  Kaunitz  familiar- 
ly.    "  Come  a  little  more  to  the  left." 

And  in  the  excitement  of  his  enthusiasm,  the  Prince  was  so  forgetful' 
of  the  rank  of  his  visitor  as  to  catch  him  by  the  arm,  and  drag  him  to 
the  spot  he  advised.  Pius  started,  and  for  one  moment  his  eyes  darted 
fire,  for  he  felt  the  indignity  to  the  very  depths  of  his  soul  ;  but  he  re- 
mt^mbered  his  resolve  to  "bear  all  things,"  and  stood  quietly  contem- 
plating the  picture  until  his  tormentor  spoke  again. 

He  on  his  part  had  affected  not  to  perceive  that  he  had  done  anything 
amiss  ;  and  with  an  appearance  of  great  emiiressinent,  he  followed  the 
Pope  from  picture  to  picture,  dragging  him  first  to  one  point,  then  to 
another,  as  he  pretended  to  think  that  the  best  light  for  seeing  his  paint- 
ings was  to  the  right,  or  to  the  left.'^'^ 

The  Pope  made  no  resistance,  perhaps  because  he  was  astounded  at 
the  insolence  of  the  proceeding,  perhaps  because  he  judged  it  best  to  af- 
fect unconsciousness  of  the  insults  which  were  being  heaped  upon  his 
head.  But  he  was  wounded  to  the  heart ;  and  raised  his  eyes  to  his 
•chaplain,  who  indignant  at  the  contumely  offered  to  his  beloved  Pontiff, 
at  once  came  forward  to  his  relief,  by  reminding  him  that  the  Emperor 
would  shortly  visit  his  rooms, 

"You  are  right,  my  friend,"  said  Pius.  Then  turning  to  Kaunitz  he 
continued,  "  I  must  go,  and  cannot  have  the  pleasure  of  completing  my 
survey  of  your  paintings.  Had  I  known  that  you  possessed  so  many 
treasures,  I  would  have  come  earlier  that  1  might  have  been  allowed  to 
visit  them,  a  little  more  at  my  leisure.  I  am  under  many  obligations 
to  you  for  your  politeness,  and  for  the  very  unusual  courtesies  which  I 
have  received  at  your  hands." 

He  took  the  arm  of  his  chaplain,  and  left  the  room.  At  the  door  he 
was  met  by  the  Countess  Clafy,  and  as  she  knelt  a  second  time  before 
him,  he  laid  his  hand  upon  her  head  with  a  gesture  full  of  nobleness  and 
grace. 

"  1  leave  you  my  blessing,  my  child,  and  I  leave  it  to  all  who  inhabit 
this  house.  May  those  whose  hearts  have  been  hardened  by  sin,  return 
in  humility  to  the  Lord,  for  humility  is  the  crown  of  Christian  graces, 
and  he  who  hath  it  not,  cad  never  aspire  to  life  eternal." 

He  went  on  without  ever  turning  his  head,  or  seeming  to  know  that 

♦  Bonrgoing,  Pius  VI,  and  his  Pontiflp;>te,  P.  227. 


KMPKKOK    OF    aUSTKIA.  77 

Kaunltz  was  behind,  excusing  himself  fronj  going  further  with  his  Holi- 
ness by  reason  of  the  danger  to  which  he  would  be  exposed,  <kc.,  &c. 

The  Pope  was  received  at  the  portal  of  the  palace  by  his  master  of 
ceremonies  who  accompanied  him  to  his  cabinet.  One  glance  at  his  pale 
countenance  had  revealed  to  him  the  inutilit}!:  of  the  condescension  of 
the  Supreme  Pontiff",  who  with  a  weary  sigh  sank  back  into  the  depths 
of  an  arm  chair. 

"  You  were  quite  right,"  said  he  after  a  pause,  "  and  l"was  wrong.  I 
ought  never  to  have  gone  to  this  man.  God  has  punished  me  for  my 
vanity,  and  has  used  him  as  an  instrument  to  remind  me  that  I  am  but 
a  poor  miserable  creature,  full  of  projects  but  empty  of  results!  Ah, 
Battista,  with  what  bright  hopes  of  touching  the  Emperor's  heart,  I  start- 
ed upon  this  pilgrimage  to  Vienna,  priding  myself  upon  my  humility 
and  building  thereupon  my  trust!  Nothing  has  come  of  my  elibrts, 
nothing  !  1  have  learned  one  thing,  however,  of  the  Emperor.  He  is  n© 
Christian,  but  he  is  not  a  bad  man.  I  really  believe  that  he  acts  from  a 
sense  of  mistaken  duty." 

The  master  of  ceremonies  shook  his  head,  and  was  about  to  reply 
when  there  was  a  knock  at  the  door,  and  the  Emperor  asked  admittance. 
The  master  of  ceremonies  retired  to  the  ante-room  where  the  suites  of 
the  Pope  and  the  Emperor  were  awaiting  the  signal  for  departure.  Jo- 
seph approached  his  Holiness,  and  gave  into  his  hand  a  case  which  he 
begged  him  to  accept  as  a  souvenir  (<f  his  visit  to  Austria. 

Pius,  bewildered  by  all  that  he  had  endured  on  that  day,  opened  it  in 
silence.  But  he  was  astonished  when  he  saw  the  magnificence  of  the 
gilt.  It  was  a  large  cross  of  pure,  white  brilliants,  upon  a. bed  of  dark 
crimson  velvet.* 

"  I  beg  of  your  Holiness,"  said  Joseph,  "  to  wear  this  in  remembrance 
of  me." 

Pius  raised  his  head,  and  looked  anxiously  into  the  smiling  face  of  the 
Emperor.  "  Oh,  my  son,'  said  he,  "  would  this  were  the  only  cross  1 
was  forced  to  take  back  with  me  to  Rome^" 

"Your  Ploliness  must  be  content  to  take  with  you  my  love  and  re- 
gard," replied  Joseph  evasively,  "and  I  would  gladly  give  you  another 
pledge  of  them  before  we  part.  Will  you  allow  me  to  bestow  upon 
your  nephew,  Luigi  Braschi,  the  title  and  diploma  of  a  Prince  ?" 

Pius  shook  his  head.  I  thank  your  Majesty,  but  my  nephew  cannot 
accept  the  honor  you  would  confer  upon  him.  It  was  not  to  advance, 
the  interests  of  my  fomily,  but  the  glory  of  the  Church  that  1  came  to 
Vienna.f  Your  Majesty  woirid  make  a  prince  of  my  nephew,  and  yet 
you  seek  to  humble  his  uncle,  who  is  the  vicar  of  Christ  on  earth." 

"  What  have  I  done,  your  Holiness  ?" 
'    "  You  have  suppressed  the  order  of  the  Mendicant  friars  and  you  have 
called  Cardinal  Megazzi  to  account,  because  he  printed  one  of  my  bulls 
without  submitting  it  to  you  for  approbation." 

*  This  cro»9  was  va'ucfl  at  200,000  florins.    See  Hubner  I,  P.  129. 

t  Pius's  own  words.    See  Gross  HoOSocer  S.  page  46,  • 


7b         '  josKi'Q  rriB  SKCUNU. 

"  I  consider  that  the  Mendicants  lead  a  contemptible  life,. and  we  have 
uo  use  lor  them  in  Austria.  As  to  the  bull,  no  law  is  permitted  to  go 
forth  in  my  dominions  unless  it  is  approved  by  me,  tor  the  laws  of  my 
land  must  be  subject  to  uo  power  but  my  own." 

The  Pope  heaved  a  sigh,  for  it  was  useless  to  argue  with  Joseph.  "Is 
it  also  true  that  your  Majesty  has  confiscated  and  sold  all  the  property 
of  the  convents  and  churches,  and  that  it  is  your  intention  to  give  sala- 
ries to  the  clergy  ?" 

*'  Yes,  that  is  my  plan  ;  I  may  as  well  be  frank  with  you,  and  avow 
it.  But  1  am  very  fur  from  its  accomplishment ;  I  have  taken  nothing 
but  the  property  of  the  convents  as  yet." 

"And  wo  to  your  sacrilegious  hand  that  you  have  done  so  !'■'  cried. 
Pius,  rising  to  his  feet  and  confronting  the  Emperor.  "  I  cannot  conceal 
from  your  Majesty  that  your  conduct  has  inflicted  a  serious  wound  up- 
on the  Church,  and  has  scandalized  all  good  Christians.  The  robbing  of 
the  Church  is  an  error  condemned  by  ecclesiastic  councils,  and  execrated 
by  the  Fathers  of  the  Church.  Shall  I  remind  you  of  the  words  which 
John  the  Patriarch  of  Alexandria  spoke  to  a  Sovereign  who  would  have 
robbed  the  clergy  of  their  temporal  goods  1  '  How  canst  thou  a  perish- 
able mortal,  give  unto  another  that  which  is  not  thine  own?  And  w'hcn 
thou  givest  that  which  belongs  to  God,  thou  rebellest  against  God  him- 
self. What  man  endowed  with  reason  will  net  pronounce  thine  act  a 
transgression,  a  signal  and  sinful  injustice?  How  can  a  man  presOme 
to  call  himself  a  Christian  who  desecrates  the  objects  consecrated  to 
Christ !' — Thus  has  God  spoken  through  the  mouth  of  his  servant,  and 
His  words  are  appropriate  to  the  acts  of  your  Majesty  f"* 

The  voice  of  the  Pope  was  choked  by  tears,  and  in  the  excess  of 
his  grief  he  sank  back  upon  the  chair  and  leaned  his  head  upon  his 
hand. 

The  Emperor  had  listened  with  profound  indifference.  It  was  not  the 
first  time  he  had  seen  the  Pope  thus  moved,  and  he  was  perfectly  aware 
that  it  was  better  to  make  no  reply  until  the  violence  of  his  emotion  had 
exhausted  itself. 

"  Your  Holiness  goes  too  far  in  your  Apostolic  zeal,"  said  he  after  a' 
pause  of  some  length.  "  I  shall  neither  quote  the  Scriptures  nor  the  Fa- 
thers in  my  defence;  for  you  and  I  would  not  be  apt  to  interpret  them 
in  the  same  sense.  I  shall  content  myself  with  observing  that  in  spite 
of  all  your  anger,  I  shall  hearken  to  the  voice  of  my  own  conscience 
which  tells  me  that  my  acts  are  those  of  a  wise. law-giver  and  of  a  faith- 
ful defender  of  religion.  With  this  voice,  my  own  reason,  and  help  from 
above,  I  am  not  afraid  of  being  in  error.f  At  the  same  time,  I  assure 
your  Holiness  of  my  siucerest  regard.  You  may  not  have  attained  the 
object  of  your  visit,  but  I  hope  that  you  carry  away  at  least  the  convic- 
tion of  my  honesty  and  integrity  of  purpose.  The  interests  of  State ^nd 
Church  may  be  at  variance,  but  we  need  not  be  personal  enemies ;  and 

*  This  haranene  of  the  Pope  is  historical.    Hubner  1,  page  285. 
0  t  Joseph's  own  words.    Hubner  1,  page  287. 


CMt'KKliH    OK    AITSTRIA. 


over  the  gulf  which  separates  us  as  priuces,  we  maj'  join  hands  as  friends, 
may  wo  not?" 

With  these  words,  the  Emperor  extended  his  hand  and  the  Pope  did 
not  refuse  to  take  it. 

"  It  is  lime  for  rae  to  be  going,"  replied  he.  "This  cross,  which  in 
the  prodigality  of  your  friendship,  you  have  bestowed  upon  me.  I  shall 
wear  for  your  sake,  and  it  shall  remind  me  to  pray  daily  fhat  God  nniy 
enlighten  you  and  lead  you  back  to  the  \Vi\y — the  Tmih — and  the  Life. 
For  in  the  Church  alone  is  true  peace  to  be*found.  He  who  strives  ■ 
.'.i:;iinst  her,  strives  against  Christ.  ■  Farewell,  and  niiiy  He  niercifally 
biing  you  to  a  sense  of  your  errors  !" 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

THE  KEPyLSE. 

The  aristocrvacy  of  Vienna  were  in  a  state  of  extreme  eAciteraent.  It 
was  whispered  from  one  noble  to  another  that  the  Aulic  Council  had 
condemned  Count  Podstadsky  Liechtenstein  to  the  house  of  correction 
for  life,  and  he  was  to  sweep  the  streets  in  the  garb  of  a  common  crimi- 
nal.* This  was  not  all.  Another  fearful  announcement  had  fallen  like 
a  bolt  upon  the  heads  of  the  most  illustrious  families  in  Vienna.  For 
some  weeks  past.  Colonel  Szekuly  had  been  missing.  His  servants  had 
given  out  that  he  had  gone  to  visit  his  relatives  in  Hungary,  but  they 
seemed  so  embarrassed  and  uneasy,  that  no  one  believed  them.  Colo- 
nel Szekuly  had  many  powerful  friends.  He  wa^  an  intimate  associate 
of  all  the  Hungarian  noblemen  in  Vienna,  and  had  long  been  a  welcome 
guest  wherever  the  fashionable  world  were  assembled.  Moreover  he 
was  the  adorer  of  the  most  admired  woman  in  Vienna,  the  lovely  Coun- 
tess Baillou. 

She  too  had  disappeared.  Where  could  they  be  ?  Was  it  accident, 
or  had  she  responded  to  his  love,  and  left  a  world  of  worshippers  to  live 
ibr  him  alone  1 

Finally  the  mystery  was  solved.  A  few  days  after  the  arrest  of 
Podstadsky,  Szekuly  also  had  been  arrested.  It  was  now  well  known 
that  Podstadsky  had  forged  notes  ;  but  it  was  impossible  to  suspect  a 
man  of  Szekuly's  unimpeachable  character  of  any  connection  with  a 
crinae  of  that  nature. 

t.    Unhappily,  however,  though  less  in  degree,  the  accusation  against  Sze- 
kuly was  similar  in  kind.     He  was  a  defaulter,  and  from   the  coffers  of 
•  This  waa  in  accordance  with  (hf  new  Josephine  code.       # 


80  iOSRPB  TIIK'SBCOND. 

his  regiment  (which  were  confided  to  his  care)  sixty  thousand  florins  had 
disappeared. 

The  Countess  Baillou  was  his  accuser.  She  had  been  charged  with 
being  a  party  to  Podstadsky's  fraud,  but  he  as  well  as  Szekuly,  had 
loudJy  declared  her  innoc^ence.  Both  had  avowed  themselves  to  be  her 
lovers,  and  it  was  ascertained  that  her  household  had  been  maintained 
;it  Podstadsky's  cost.  As  his  mistress,  she  had  received  many  of  his 
bank-notes,  but  he  protested  that  she  knew  nothing  of  his  forgeries.  He 
confessed  his  own  guik/'but  firmly  upheld  her  innocence.  So  far  from 
being  his  accomplice,  Podstadsky  declared  that  she  had  been  his  victim. 

But  a  coffer  contaiuiu::^  twenty-thousand  ducats  had  been  found  upon 
the  person  of  the  Countess.  This  money  had  not  been  given  her  by 
Podstadsky,  since  be  had  nothing  but  forged  notes  to  give.-  The  Coun- 
tess, when  questioned,  answered  unhewtatingly,  that  one-half  the  sum 
she  had  won  at  play,  and  the  other  half  she  had  received  as  a  present 
from  Colonel  Szekuly.  It  was  well  known  that  Szekuly  had  not  the 
means  of  bestowing  such  princely  gifts ;  yet,  when  informed  of  the 
Countess's  charge,  he  had  grown  pale  certainly,  but  replied  that  the 
Countess  hiid  spoken  nothing  but  truth. 

Suspicion  was  aroused  ;  the  strong-box  of  the  regiment  was  examined 
and  found  empty!  Von  Szekul-^  acknowledged  that  he  had  taken  the 
money,  believing  in  good  faith  that  by  the  sale  of  certain  deeds  in  his 
possession,  he  would  be  able  to  replace  it  at  short  notice.  But  where 
were  these  papers  ?  They  could  not  be  found,  and  Szekuly  refused  to 
give  any  account  of  them.  He  was  guilty,  he  said,  and  must  submit  to 
his  fate.  Colonel  Von  Szekuly,  a  Hungarian  Baron,  under  sentence  for 
theft !  This  was  a  blot  upon  the  escutcheon  of  more  than  one  illustrious 
flimily.  But  the  Emperor,  in  framing  his  severe  code,  had  reserved  to 
himself  the  right  to  pardon  ;  and  this  right  it  was  hoped  that  he  would 
exercise  in  favor  of  the  high-born  criminals.  It  was  not  possible  that 
he  intended  to  humiliate  the  nobility  of  Austria  so  cruelly,  as  to  con- 
demn two  of  them  to  the  pillory,  to  the  sweeping  of  the  streets,  to  be 
chained  to  two  common  felons  for  life!* 

No ! — this  was  an  outrage  which  the  Emperor  would  never  dare  to 
perpetrate,  for  it  would  arouse  the  bitter  animosity  of  the  whole  aris- 
tocracy. But  it  would  be  better  to  petition  him  at  once  and  warn  him 
of  his  peril. 

He  was  petitioned,  but  his  invariable  reply  was  that  the  law  must  de- 
cide. It  was  known,  however,  that  the  sentence  was  not  signed,  and 
there  was  still  hope.  But  how  to  reach  the  Emperor  1  Since  the  Coun- 
cil had  pronounced  judgment  on  the  criminals,  Joseph  had  granted  au- 
dience to  no  one ;  he  had  avoided  all  proximity  to  the  nobles,  and  to 
secure  himself  from  importunity,  had  ceased  to  ride  in  the  park,  content- 
ing himself  with  a  daily  drive  in  his  cabriolet.  Finally  the  petitioners 
remembered  the  "  Conirolorgang,^^  and  thither  they  repaired  early  m 
the  morning.  Ladies  as  well  as  lords,  came  on  foot,  that  the  Emperor 
•    -  •  Hubner  2,  page  3S3. 


BMI'BKOR   OF  AUSTKIA.  81 

might  not  be  warned,  by  the  sound  of  their  rolling  equipages,  to  deny 
himself  again — They  were  the  first  to  enter  the  palace  on  that  day,  and 
■were  so  numerous  that  no  other  petitioners  could  obtain  entrance.  On 
that  occasion  then,  they  were  among  thf^r  peers,  and  the  canaille  would 
never  know  how  Count  and  Gountes-s,  Huron  and  Baroness  had  humbled 
themselves  for  the  sake  of  their  caste. 

As  soon  as  Giinther  opened  tlie  door,  they  rushed  into  the  small  room 
which  was  called  the  Controlorgang,  and  there  with  beating  hearts,  a- 
waited  the  entrance  of  the  all-powerful  Emperor. 

He  came,  and  when  he  saw  who  were  the  petitioners  of  the  day,  his 
countenance  expressed  astonishment ;,  but  he  did  not  depart  from  his 
usual  habit,  and  walked  slowly  down  the  middle  of  the  room,  extending 
his  hand  to  receive  the  petitions. 

"  How  V  said  he  when  he  had  reached  the  last  person,  *'  Count  Lampre- 
do,  you  have  nothing  to  present !  You  all  desire  to  speak  with  me? 
1  fear  that  my  time  is  too  short  to  gratify  you."' 

.   "Sire,  we  have  but  one  petition  lo  make,"  said   the  Count,  speaking 
for  the  others.     "  One  common  misfortune  threatens  us  all -^ 

"What  can  it  be?" 

"Oh,  your  Majesty,"  cried  he  fervently,  "have  mercy  upon  Count 
Podstadsky  and  Baron  Von  Szekuly  !"     " 

"Mercy,  sire,  mercy  for  Podstadsky  and  Szekuly,"  cried  the  noble 
petitioners  with  one  accord,  whileall  knelt  before  the  astounded  Empe- 
ror. 

He  surveyed  them  with  an  angry  frown.  "  Rise,  all  of  you,"  said  he. 
"  Have  you  forgotten  that  kneeling  has  been  abolished  here  1  The  Span- 
ish customs  which  were  once  so  popular  in  the  palace  are  unbecoming 
m  this  room,  where  all  whc^  enter  it  are  nothing  but  petitioners  seeking 
justice  at  my  hands." 

"And  mercy,  sire,''  add^d  Count  Lampredo  imploringly. 

"  And  mercy,  which  can  be  conceded,  only  so  far  as  it  is  perfectly 
compatible  with  justice." 

"  Mercy,  gracious  Emperor,  mercy  for  Podstadsky  and  Szekuly,"  re- 
iterated the  petitioners. 

"You  ask  for  mercy,  which  v/ounds  justice,  and  I  repeat  that  \  cannot 
grant  the  one  without  the  other.  Count  Podstadsky  through  his  frauds 
has  ruined  thousands  of.  my  subjects ;  Baron  Von  Szekuly  has  stolen 
sixty  thousand  florilis,  and  both  these  men  have  disgraced  their  births 
and  titles." 

"Allow  Szekuly  to  be  tried  by  a  niilitary  court,  sire.  They  at  least 
would  shield  him  from  dishonor,  for  they  would  sentence  him  to  death." 

"  He  has  committed  a  vulgar  crime,  and  he  shall  be  punished  accord- 
ing to  the  burgher's  code — Thati  code  ignores  capital  punishment." 

"But  its  punishments  are  more  fearful  than  death,  sire.  A  raaif  is 
thrice  dead  who  has  lost  liberty,  honor,  and  name.  The  man  who  in 
manacles,  sweeps  the  public  streets,  or  tugs  at  the  car,  is  a  thousand 
times  more  to  be  pitied  than  he  who  lays  his  head  upon  the  block.  Oh, 


32  ■  JOJiEl'H  THE  SECOND. 

sire,  it  cannot  be  that  you  would  consign  a  nobleman  to  such  con- 
tumely !" 

"  No,  I  honor  the  noblera.in  too  much  to  brand  him  with  such  infamy," 
replied  the  Emperor  hastily.  "  But  if  a  Cavalier  commits  a  crime,  f 
diafranchise  him  at  ouce,  and  stripped  of  name,  title,  and  privileges,  [ 
hand  him  over  to  the  law  which  regards  him  exactly  as  it  does  any  other 
base-born  villain.*  Be  comforted  then.  The.'^e  criminals  are  no  longer 
noblemen,  and  have  nothing  in  common  with  you." 

"  Oh  sire,  do  not  say  so  ;  for  their  shame  is  reflected  upon  us  all !" 

'•How  1"  exclaimed  Joseph  with  affected  surprise,  "are  you  all  thieves 
and  forgerers?" 

"  No,  sire,  but  our  honor  suffers  through  their  dishonor.  O  your  Ma- 
jesty, in  the  name  of  the  illustrious  families  who  for  centuries  have  been 
the  loyal  subjects  of  your  house,  save  our  escutcheons  from  this  foul 
blotr-  ^ 

"  Save  us,  sire,  save  us  from  infamy  !"  echoed  the  others. 

"  No  !"  exclaimed  the  Emperor.  "  He  who  is  not  ashamed  of  the 
crime,  will  not  be  ashamed  of  the  disgrace.  If,  for  the  sake  of  his  rank, 
a  man  is  to  have  the  privilege  of  beiug  a  villain,  where  then  is  justice  ?f 
Not  another  word,  of  this — My  forbearance  is  exhausted  ;  for  I  have 
soufht  by  every  means  to  convince  you  that  as  a  Sovereign,  I  shall  show 
partiality  to  no  order  of  men.  Podstadsky  and  Szekuly  shall  suffer  to 
the  full  extent  of  the  law,  for  the  worth  of  their  ancestors  cannot  wipe 
out  their  own  unworthiness." 

The  Emperor  withdrew,  and  when  the  door  closed  behind  him,  many 
an  eye  there  flashed  with  hatred,  and  many  a  compressed  lip  told  of  medi- 
tated vengeance  for  the  Indignity  su  lie  red  by  a  powerful  order  at  his 
hands,  that  day. 

"Our  humiliation  then  has  been  of  no  avail !"  muttered  Count  Lam- 
predo,  "and  the  nobles  of  Austria  must  suffer  disgrace  because  of  the 
obstinate  cruelty  of  the  man  who  should  uphold  them." 

"  But  we  will  be  revenged  !"  whispered  Count  Hojada,  a  near  relative 
of  Szekuly's.  "The  Sovereign,  who  like  Joseph,  heaps  obloquy  upon 
a -nobility,  some  of  whom  are  his  equals  in  descent,  is  lost !  The  Em- 
peror shall  remember  this  hour,  and  rue  it  also  !" 

"  Yes,"  said  another,  "  he  shall  repent  this  day.  We  are  all  of  one 
mind,  are  we  not,  friends  V 

'•'Aye,"  muttered  they  with  gnashing  teeth !  "  He  shall  pay  dearly 
for  this !" 

•  .Toseph'g  own  words.    See  Hubner  II,  P.  4Si, 
i  Joseph's  own  words. 


EMPKJiOK   UK  AUSTRIA. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

/  TlIK  COUNT  IN  THK  riLLORV. 

Crowds  of  people  fathered  around  the  street-corners  to  read  the  large 
hand-bills  posted  there.  The  bills  announced  that  Count  Podstadsky 
Liechtenstein  had  been  condemned  to  three  days  of  pillory,  to  public 
sweeping  of  the  streets,  and  ten  years'  detention  in  the  house  of  correc- 
tion. Colonel  Von  Szekuly  to  three  days  of  pillory,  and  four  years  de- 
tention. 

The  guilt  of  the  Countess  Baillou  not  having  been  fully  established, 
she  was  pardoned  by  the  Emperor,  But  she  was  ordered  to  be  present 
at  Podstadbky's  exposition  in  the  pillory,  and  then  to  leave  Vienna  for- 
ever. 

The  people  read  these  fearful  tidings  in  dumb  amazement,  and  vague 
apprehension  of  evil  to  themselves.  Never  had  they  so  completely  real- 
ized the  new  order  of  things,  tft  at  this  moment.  One  of  the  pi^vileged, 
whom  they  had  hitherto  beheld  at  a  distance  in  splendid  equipages,  on 
elegant  horses,  in  brilliant  uniforms  around  the  person  of  the  Emperor, 
one  of  these  demi-gods  was  to  be  trailed  in  the  dust  lilce,a  criminal  from 
the  dregs  of  the  populace.  A  Count,  in  the  gray  smock  of  the  felon,  was 
to  sweepi  the  streets  which  perchance  his  aristocratic  foot  had  never  trod- 
den before.  A  proud  Hungarian  nobleman,  a  Colonel  of  the  Guard,  was 
to  be  exposed  in  the  pillory  for  three  days.  Yes — these  things  were, 
terrible,  and  startling.  Not  a  trace  of  exultation  was  upon  the  gloomy 
faces  of  the  multitude  :  .this  abasement  of  two  men  of  illustrious  birth, 
to  an  equality  with  boors,  seemed  an  invasion  of  the  conservative  prin- 
ciples of  society.     It  was  an  ugly  dream — the  people  could  not  realize  it. 

They  must  go  to  the  spot  where  the  sentence  was  to  be  executed,  to 
see  if  indeed  Olympus  had  been  levelled  to  the  earth.  Hurried  alon"- 
by  one  common  impulse,  the  silent  multitude  wound  in  a  long  stream 
through  the  streets,  until  they  reached  the  market-place  where  the  sen- 
tence was  to  be  carried  out.  Neither  idle  curiosity  nor  malice  led  the 
people  thither  ;  it  was  a  pilgrimage  to  the  new  era  which  at  last  was 
dawning  upon  the  world. 

There  in  the  centre  of  the  great  open  square,  was  the  throne  of  infamy 
upon  which  an  Austrian  nobleman  was  about  to  bid  adieu  to  name,  hon- 
or, family,  and  the  associations  which  had  surrounded  his  boyhood,  and 
to  be  thrust  in  the  revolting  companionship  of  robbers  and   murderers  ! 

Not  a  smile  was  seen  upon  those  appalled  faces  ;  men  whispered  to 
one  another  that  the  Count  was  the  only  son  of  one  of  the  proudest  fami- 
lies in  Hungary,  and  that  the  Countess,  his  mother,  had  died  of  her  son's 


S4  JOSEPH  THE  SECOND. 

sh.ime.  The  eyes  of  ihe  women  filled  with  tears,  and  for  the  sake  of  the 
martyred  mother,  they  forgave  the  guilty  son.  The  weeping  of  the  wo- 
men deepened  the  sympathies  of  the  men,  and  they  began  to  murmur 
against  the  heartless  Emperor  who  degraded  an  illustrious  subject,  and 
sent  a  noble  Countess  broken  hearted  u>  the  grave  ! 

And  now  appeared  the  criminal.  Culprit  though  he  was,  his  beauty 
and  air  of  distinction  were  indisputable. 

"  Poor  young  man  !"  murmured  the  women  sobbing. 
''•  He  will  not  long  survive  his  disgrace,"  said  the  men  sorrowfully. 
"  He  looks  like  a  ghost,  and  the  Emperor  will  soon  have  to  bury  him 
by  the  side  of  his  mother." 

No  one  remembered  that  this  man  had  committed  an  infamous  crime, 
no  one  thanked  the  Emperor  for  having  bestowed  upon  the  Austrian 
people  the  inestimable  gift  of  equality  before  the  law.  The  commoner 
himself,  felt  aggrieved  at  the  monarch  who  bad  treated  a  nobleman  no 
better  than  he'would  have  done  a  serf. 

Courit  Podstadsky  was  still  in  the  elegant  costume  of  the  day.  Grace- 
ful and  distinguished  in  his  bearing,  he  leaned  his  weary  body  against 
the  stake  that  supported  the  scatfold  on  which  he  was  to  sutler  the  last 
degree  of  public  infamy.  But  now  the  executioner  approached  holding 
a  pair  of  large  glistening  shears.  He  gathered  the  soft  brown  curls  of 
the  Count  in  his  rough  grasp,  and  very  soon  the  glossy  locks  fell,  and 
there  remained  nothing  but  the  shorn  head  ^f  the  felon.  This  done,  the 
executioner  drew  off  the  gold  embroidered  coat  which  became  the  young 
nobleman  so  well,  and  threw  over  his  shoulders  the  coarse  smock  which 
was  to  designate  him  hence  forward  as  a  miscreant. 

How  changed  alas  !  was  the  high-born  Carlo  !  How  little  this  chat- 
tering creature,  disguised  in  serge,  resembled  the  cavalier  who  had  en- 
listed the  sympathy  of  the  multitude  !  He  was  no  longer  a  man,  and 
name,  he  had  none — his  number,  iri  scarlet  list  upon  the  left  sleeve  of  his 
smock,  was  the  only  mark  that  distinguished  him  from  his  brethren, 
the  other  malefactors.  But  the  fearful'  toilet  was  not  yet  at  an  end. 
The  feet  and  hands  were  yet  to  be  manacled.  As  the  hand-cuffs  clicked 
around  those  delicate  wrists,  the  executioner  looked  up  in  amazfement. 
Heretofore  he  had  been  accustomed  to  hear  the  the  jeers  and  loud  mockery 
of  the  multitude,  as  they  applauded  the  completion  of  the  felon's  toilet, 
but  to-day  there  was  not  a  sound  !  Nothing  to  be  seen  but  pale,  sorrowful 
faces— nothing  to  be  heard  but  sobs,  and  murmurs  of  sympathy. 

Still  one  more  torture !  The  executioner  gave  him  the  broom,  the 
baton  of  his  disgrace,  and  he  grasped  its  handle  for  support.  He  could 
scarcely  stand  now ! 

At  this  moment,  in  fiendish  contrast  with  the  behavior  of  the  people, 
a  loud,  mocking  laugh  was  heard.  Shuddering  they  looked  around,  won- 
dering'who  it  was  that  could  add  the  weight  of  a  sneer  to  the  supreme 
misery  which  was  rending  their  hearts.  It  came  from  above,  and  every 
face,  even  that  of  the  wretched  Podstadsky,  was  uplifted  in  horror.  He 
caught  at  the  stake,  and  his  vacant  eyes  rested   upon  the  house  whence 


th6  cruel  Inugh  had  issued.  There  on  a  balcony,  puarded  hy  eeveral 
men  in  black,  stood  a  beautiful  yonn^'  woman.  She  it  was,  who  had 
dealt  the  blow.     In  the  hour  of  his  agony  her  rosy  lips  had  mocked  hira  ! 

"Arabella!"  shrieked  the  despairing  man.  And  with  this  cry,  he  sank 
insensible  to  th%  earth.* 

While  all  this  v/as  transpiring  at  the  marketplace  an  imperial  f?tate- 
carriage  had  been  hurrying  ihruugh  the  streets  until  it  stopped  before  a 
gloomy  house  of  which  the  doors  and  windowshutler.s  were  all  closed. 
A  footman  in  the  imperial  livery  was  seen  to  ring,  and  then  an  old  man 
in  faded  black  livery  opened  the  door.  A  few  whispered  words  passed 
between  them;  then  a  cavalier  in  an. elegant  uniform  sprang  from  the 
carriiige  and  entered  the  house.  The  old  butler  went  before  and  showed 
him  up  the  creaking  staircase  and  through  a  suite  of  mouldy  rooms  un- 
til they  reached  one  with  closed  doors. 

"So  please  your  Majesty,"  said  the  old  man,  "  Count  Podstadsky- 
Liechtcnsteir.  is  in  there." 

The  Emperor  nodded.  "  Do  not  announce  me,"  said  he,  and  he 
knocked  at  the  door.  A  feeble  voice  from  within  responded  to  the  knock 
;ind  the  Kmperor  entered  without  further  ceretnony.  A  tall,  venerable 
man  in  deep  mourning  came  forward  and  looked  at  him  with  hojlov/, 
staring  <.•  \  cs.  "The  Emperor,"  exclaimed  he,  recognising  his  unexpec- 
ted g'lCSt. 

"Yes,  Count  Podstadsky,  it  is  I,"  said  the  Emperor,  bowing,  as  he 
vvould  have  done  before  a  mighty  monarch.  "1  come  lo  express  my 
3)rofouud  regret  for  the  .great  misfortune  which  has  lately  befallen  you. 
No  man  knows  better  than  myself  what  grief  it  is  to  lose  a  beloved 
wife.     And  yours  was  such  a  noble,  such  a  devoted  wife  !" 

"Devoted!"  echoed   the  old  Count,  sacHy.     "Alas,  sire,   there  was 

something  on  earth  which  was  nearer  to  her  heart   than  I,  else  she  had 

not  died  and  left  me  alone.     I  loved  nothing  but  her,  and  in  losing  hej' 

[  lose  all  that  made  life  endurable.     I  would  wish  to  die  n#w  ;   but  1 

•  have  still  a  principle  to  defend — the  honor  of  my  fxmily." 

'•  We  both  have  a  prineipie  to  defend,"  replied  the  Emperor,  deeply 
moved  at  the  excessive  grief  of  which  he  was  a  witness.  "The  princi- 
ple of  honor  and  justice — Let  us  both  teach  the  world  that  justice  at- 
tacks the  individual  criminal  and  not  his  fimily  ;  and  that  the  honor  of 
a  family  requires  that  justice  should  be  satisfied.  The  name  of  Pods- 
,tadpky  Liechtenstein  has  ever  been  an,  iUnstrious  one,  and  I  desire  to 
prove  to  yon  my  legard  for  your  race.  Give  me  your  hand,  Count,  and 
let  us  be  friends." 

He  extended  his  hand  and  with  quiet  solemnity  the  old  Count  took  it 
and  looked  up  into  his  Sovereign's  face. 

"  I  thank  your  Majesty,"  said,  he,  aft«r  a  pause.  "  Your  conduct  to- 
wards me  is  noble  and  magnanimous,  and  I   shall  be  grateful  for  it  to 

♦  Count  PodstadsJy  did  not  long  survive  his  dispraco.  His  dclicatp  body  soon  sank  under  the 
hardships  of  histerriblo  existetiee.  One  day  while  sweeping  the  streets  he  ruptured  a  blood-vessel, 
and  ilied  tliere,  willi  no  ni'^urners  save  his  felli>w-erimir."als.  See  Hubner  II,  p.  68!?,  591.  Charac- 
torhtica  and  Historical  Anccdo'<»s  uf  Joseph  2d.    Friebel's  Letters  from  Vienna.    Vol.  I.  p,  CS. 


80  JOSEPH    rilE  SEC  01*0. 

my  latest  breath.  You  have  acted  as  became  a  Sovereign  who  has  no 
riffht  to  set  at  defiance  the  laws  he  has  made.  Had  I  been  his  judge,  I 
should  myself  have  condemned  the  criminal  who  was  once  my  son,  and 
today  is  the  murderer,  of  his  mother.  Years  ago  I  sat  in  judgment  over 
this  transgressor,  and  when  I  did  so,  I  lost  my  only  child.  As  for  the 
man  who  to-day  has  saifered  the  penalty  of  his  crimes,  I  know  him  no 
longer. 

'"  And  your  honor  is  unspotted,"  said  the  Emperor.  "  Give  me  your 
arm,  Count,  and  let  me  conduct  you  to  my  carriage.  Jt  is  a  lovely  day. 
We  will  take  a  drive  together,  and  then  dine  at  Schimbrunn.  Come — 
I  am  resolved  that  you  shall  spend  this  whole  day  with  me.  Give  me 
your  arm." 

"  Sire,"  whispered  the  old  man  hesitating  and  looking  gloomily  to- 
wards the  window,  "  the  day  is  so  bright  and  the  suh  shines  so  fiercely, 
I  fear  that  my  eyes  cannot  bear  the  glare.  I  beg  of  you,  allow  me  to 
remain  at  home. 

The  Emperor  shook  his  head.  "  Nay  your  eyes  are  not  weak.  You  can 
bear  the  fullest  light  of  day,  you  have  no  need  to  hide  your  honored 
head  from  the  gaze  of  the  world.  Take  courage,  dear  friend,  and  think 
of  what  we  have  both  said.  Have  we  not  our  principles  to  defend"? 
And  must  we  not  both  assert  them  courageously  ?" 

"  Your  Majesty  is  right,"  cried  the  old  Count.  "  I  am  ready  to  fol- 
low you."* 

And  while  Carl  Podstadsky  awaking  from  his  swoon,  looked  up  into 
the  face  of  the  malefactor,  who  from  henceforth  was  to  be  the  compan- 
ion of  his  sleeping  and  waking  and  the  witness  of  his  despair — while  one 
of  a  long  train  of  outlawed  felons,  he  dragged  his  misery  through  the 
hot,  dusty  streets,  his  father  drove  with  the  Emperor  to  Schonbrunn, 
and  among  all  the  brilliant  guests  who  dined  with  him  on  that  day,  to 
none  was  the  Emperor  so  deferential  in  his  c<iurtesy  as  to  the  old  Count 
Podstadsky-Liechtenstein.     - 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

THE  NEMESIS. 


Meanwhile,  where  was  the  Syren  who  had  lured  Szekuly  to  destruc- 
tion?    Where  was  she  for  whose  sake  Carl   Podstadsky  had  precipita- 
ted himself  into  the  waters  of  obloquy  1     When  the  waves  had  engulph- 
.  ed  him,  she  had  disappeared,  and  the  last  sounds  that  had  rung  in  his 
ears,  were  the  sounds  of  her  cruel  mirth!  ,    


♦  nnbner  2.  pngo  891. 


KMPEUOR  OF    AUSTRIA. 

Was  there  no  punishment  in  reserve  (or  such  ntrocity  1  No  punish- 
ment for  this  woman  without  heart,  without  pity,  without  remorse? 
Would  no  hand  unmask  this  beautiful  fiend? 

The  hand  is  ready,  but  it  is  invisible  ;  and  Arabella  in  her  new-found 
security,  is  dazzled  at  the  magnitude  of  her  own  good  fortune.  "  Whom 
the  (lods  A^iiJh  to  destroy  they  first  blind." — True,  slie  had  lost  her  cold, 
the  prif.e  of  Szekuly's  good  fame;  but  she  was  not  poor;  her  jewels 
were  worth  nnany  such  a  colTcr  of  ducats.  Once  in  possession  of  her 
casket,  sho  was  again  rich,  happy  and  courtejl.  Not  a  creature  save 
(iJiuseppe  knew  the  whereabout  of  this  precious  casket,  and  with  it  they 
must  away  to  Paris  ! 

it  was  dusk,  and  (iliuseppe,  with  a  traveling-carriage,  once  more  awai- 
ted his  mistress  at  the  corner  of  the  street.  There  remained  nothing  to 
do  now  but  to  remove  the  coffer  from  its  hiding  place,  and  that  was  the 
work  of  half  an  hour.  Arabella  had  the  key  of  the  little  postern  and 
there  was  no  danger  of  spies,  for  the  house  was  empty.  Having  avow- 
ed herself  to  be  the  pensioned  mistress  of  Podstadsky,  the  law  had 
placed  its  seal  upon  her  ell'ects,  and  they  were  all  to  be  sold  for  the  ben- 
efit of  the  Count's  creditors. 

The  night  was  dark,  and  the  street-lanterns  were  propitiously  dim. 
Here  and  there  was  heard  the  step  of  a  solitary  foot-passenger,  and  from 
time  to  time,  the  monotonous  tramp  of  the  patrol.  One  of  these  patrols 
had  just  passed  the  garden-wall  of  the  hotel  of  which  the  Countess  Bail- 
lou  liad  been  the  presiding  goddess.  He  looked  up  at  the  darkened 
windows  as  he  went,  wondered  whither  the  goddess  had  flown,  and  walk- 
ed on.  When  the  echo  of  liis  step  had  died  away  from  the  pavement, 
and  t^lic  last  beams  of  the  lantern  were  flickering  out,  a  dark,  slender 
form  emerged  from  one  of  the  pillars  of  the  wall,  and  glided  towards 
the  little  side-door  which  opened  on  that  narrow  street.  The  key  was 
in  the  door,  it  clicked  in  the  lock,  and  the  figure  disappeared  within.  All 
was  quiet. 

"  1  am  safe,"  thought  she  ;  "  not  a  sound  is  within  hearing.  Now  for 
my  treasures,  and  away  !  away  !  from  this  hateful  city  forever." 

•'  Whom  the  Gods  would  destroy,  they  first  blind." 

Arabella  never  suspected  that  under  cover  of  darkness,  others  beside 
herself  were  lurking  in  that  garden  ;  and  now  as  she  advanced  towards 
the  house,  two  tall  figures  approached  the  postern,  and  stationed  them- 
selves on  either  side  of  it. 

"She  is  caught,"  whispered  one. 

"  Yes,"  replied  another,  "  the  bird  has  come  of  its  own  accord  into 
the  net.     We  must  wait  now  until  we  receive  further  orders." 

Arabella  meanwhile  looked  exultingly  at  the  dark  clouds  which  over- 
hnng  the  sky,  and  almost  laughed.  "  thank  you,  fair  moon,"  said  she, 
"  fur  withdrawing  your  splendor  at  my  behest.  Tomorrow  you  shall 
shed  your  soft  beams  upon  my  flight,  for  then  I  shall  need  your  friendly 
light.     Far  away  from  Vienna,  J  shall  be  rich,  happy,  and  free  !" 

Now  she  was  at  the  servant's  entrance — O,  how  the  hii^ges  creaked,  as 


isy  JOSEPH   TilK  SECOND. 

yhe  opened  the  door !  But  what  of  it?  No  one  was  there  to  hear  the 
sound.  How  foolishly  her  heurt  was  beating  ! — Now  she  was  inside,  and 
with  spasmodic  haste,  she  bolted  herself  withili.  The  darkness  was  in- 
tense. She  could  not  see  her  hand  before  her,  and  in  spite  of  herself,  a 
cold  chill  ran  through  her  frame,  and  her  knees  trembled  with  vague  ter- 
ror. What  if  through  this  black  expanse,  a  hand  should  suddenly  touch 
hers,  and— ^"  O,  how  dreadful  is  this  darkness!"  thought  she.  ''  I  might 
die  here  and  no  one  could  come  to  my  help  !  I  feel  as  I  did  once  before, 
on  that  night  of  horror  in  Italy  !" 

She  shuddered,  and  almost  swooning  with  fright,  cowered  under  the 
shelter  of  the  marble  balustrade  to  which  she  had  by  this  jtime  groped 
her  way.  And  now  before  her  terrified  soul,  awept  phantom  after  phan- 
tom, all  from  the  miserable  spirit-land  of  the  past.  Once  more  she  liv- 
ed through  a  night  dark  as  this,  when  a  wretched,  betrayed,  dishonored, 
girl,  she  had  slunk  through  the  streets  of  Rome  in  search  of  death — 
death  and  annihilation  in  the  black  waves  of  the  Tiber,  She  felt  the 
waters  engulpji  her,  she  heard  her  own  death-cry,  the  last  protest  of 
youth  against  self  destruction  ;  and  then  she  felt  the  grasp  of  Podstads- 
ky — Podstadsky,  who  in  restoring  her  to  the  world,  had  laid  a  new  curse 
upon  her  life.  Until  then  she  had  been  luxurious,  frivolous,  pleasure-lov- 
ing, but  in  the  Tiber  she  had  found. a  new  and  terrible  baptism — the 
baptism  of  crime.  Without  love  she  had  consented  to  become  Pod- 
stadsky's  mistress,  and  so  became  the  partner  of  his  guilt.  Together 
they  had  planned  their  bold  schemes  of  fraud,  and  0  how  successful  they 
had  been  until  this  last  misfortune  !  At  all  events  her  connection  with 
Podstadsky  was  at  an  end.     The  pillory  had  liberated  her,  and  now — 

Now  she  would  lead  a  blameless  life — No  more  fraud — no  more  theft 
— crime  was'too  dangerous,  she  saw  that  it  must  inexorably  lead  to 
shame.  She  woyld  be  satisfied  with  what  she  had,  and  become  a  virtu- 
ous woman.  She  was  quite  rich  enough  to  be  good,  and  it  would  be 
such  bliss  to  live  without  a  guiity  secret ! 

She  laughed,  and  then  shivered  at  the  sound  of  her  own  voice,  and  a 
supernatural  terror  took  such  violent  hold  on  her  imagination  that  she 
could  no  longer  bear  the  darkness.  She  mvsi  see,  or  she  would  die  of 
fear,  Giuseppe  had  provided  her  with  a  dark  lantern,  a  vial  of  phosphor- 
ous and  some  matches. 

"  How  delightful  it  is  to  have  this  new  invention  I"  thought  she,  as 
touching  the  phosphorous,  she  struck  a  light— ^With  this  light,  she  felt  a 
jlittle  re-assured,  but  could  she  have  seen  her  blanched  terror-stricken 
face,  she  would  have  screamed,  and  fancied  it  a  spectre  ! 

Hush  !-^ Was  there  a  mufiled  sound  behind  her  !  She  paused  and  lis- 
tened, her  eyes  glaring  as  though  they  would  start  from  their  sockets, — 
Pshaw  ! — it  was  only  the  rustling  of  her  own  silk  mantle  as  it  went  trail- 
ing up  the  marble  stair-case.  Nothing  in  human  shape  was  there,  save 
two  pale  statues  which  stood  like  dead  sentinels  at  the  head  of  the  stairs. 
As  she  passed  them  she  shuddered,  and  almost  fancied  that  they  had  step- 
ped from  their  pedestals  to  follow  her-— Giving  one  quick  glance  behind, 


EMI'ERftK  OF    ALSTRIA.  89 

she  sped  like  a  hunted  doe  through  those  halls  of  which  so  lately  she  lind 
l)een  the  pride,  and  arrived  breathless  to  the  door  of  her  boudoir.  She 
darted  in,  and  there,  safe  in  its  place  avhs  the  picture. 

This  gave  her  courage.  Hut  she  must  haVe  rest  after  her  fearful  pil- 
j^riniape  through  that  dark,  empty  house.  She  sank  upon  her  satin 
iounge,  and  abandoned  herself  to  the  jov  and  security  of  the  hour.  She 
had  just  come  to  the  end  of  a  perilous  journey — Night  and  dancjer  were 
beliind,  the  rosy  morning  of  safety  was  about  to  dawn.  She  was  so  full 
of  joyous  emotion,  that  scarcely  knowing  what,  she  did,  her  lips  began 
to  move  in  imconscious  prayer! 

Prayer! — She  had  no  right  to  such  a  privilege  as  that,  and  starting 
from  her  seat,  lest  she  should  Ailter  in  the  purpose  of  hor  visit,  she  quick- 
ly removed  the  picture,  touched  the  spring,  and  the  precious  coffer  stood 
revealed. 

No,  no,  she  could  never  give  it  up  ! — She  stretched  out  her  arms,  and 
pressed  it  to  her  heart,  as  a  mother  does  her  only  child.  Trembling 
with  eager  joy,  she  placed  it  on  the  table,  and  opening  it,  contemplated 
her  treasures  on  their  beds  of  crimson  velvet. 

"  How  they  sparkled  !  How  they  seemed  to  burn  with  splendor  as 
the  rays  of  the  little  lantern  coquetted  with  their  beauty  I  She  was  re- 
paid for  all  her  terrors,  she  was  happy  and  secure  !" 

"  Whom'  the  Gods  destroy,  they  first  blind." 

She  was  so  absorbed  in  the  magnificence  of  her  diamond  necklace,  for 
which  she  had  been  indebted  to  the  Princess  Garampi,  that  she  did  not 
hear  the  foot-flill  of  the  men  who  were  close  behind  her.  They  smiled, 
and  pantomined  one  to  another  as  they  watched  her  toying  with  her 
flashing  jewels. 

Then  suddenly  springing  forward,  as  if  they  feared  she  might  escape 
through  the  secret  opening  in  the  wall,  they  graspe«d  her  with  their  pow- 
erful hands,  and  she  was  once  more  a  prisoner ! — 

"The  Emperor  can  no  longer  defend  his  beautiful  Countess,"  said  the 
one  who  seemed  to'  direct  the  others.  We  have  caught  her  in  the  act 
of  robbing  Count  Podstadsky'a  creditors.  And  unless  T  am  mistaken, 
we  shall  find  among  her  booty,  all  the  jewels  that  were  missing  at  last 
yvinter's  entertainments ;  for  as  I  had  the  honor  of  reminding  his  Majes-" 
ty,  the  Countess  Baillou  was  at  every  ball,  when  jewels  were  lost,  I 
told  the  Emperor  that  if  he  would  give  you  freedom,  I  engaged  to  find 
something  more  than  a  mare's  nest,  when  I  tracked  you  hither — I  was| 
sure  you  would  come,  and  my  spies  have  been  within,  waiting  for  you 
since  this  morning." 

".What  reward  was  promised  by  the  Emperor  for  my  detection'?" 
s;iid  Arabella,  already  self  possessed. 

"  Eive  hundred  ducats,"  was  the  reply, 

"  Five  hundred  ducats,"  repeated  she,  tossing  back  her  beauiiful  head. 
"A  beggardly  reward  for  the  person  of  a  lady  of  rank  like  me.  Take 
this  necklace,  and  divide  it  between  you.  Each  one  will  then  have 
more  than  the  frugal  Emperor  has  promised  to  all.     Take  it  and  give 


i'U  JOSEPH  THE  SECONi'. 

me  my  fj-eedom.     Your  generous  act  will  never  be  known.'' 

"liovv,  lady?  Y(-)U  would  bribe  us,  as  you  have  bribed  so  many  no- 
ble cavaliers?  No,  no. — Your  game  is  at  an  end,  and  if  ever  you  ap- 
pear in  public  again,  it  will  be  as  a  criminal.  You  mu.st  come  with  me. 
You  men  take  up  this  coffer." 

She  strove  no  longer.  Without  another  word  she  took  the  arm  of 
the  police  officer,  and  went  firmly  foiward. 

Her  lips  moved,  and  she  murmured  :  ''Alas,  he  is  right.  My  career 
is  at  an  end!"*  ■  ' 


CIIAFTEK  XX!  V. 

HORJA  AND  THK  REBELLION  IN  IIUNGARV. 

Four  years  had  gone  by  since  Joseph  had  reigned  sole  monarch  of 
Austria.  For  four  years  he  had  devoted  himself  to  the  Austrians,  hav- 
ing but  one  object,  that  of  making  them  a  i'ree,  enlightened  and  happy 
people,  emancipating  them  from  the  influence  of  Ihe  church,  and  break- 
iug  the  fetters  of  serfdom ;  granting  them  equality  before  the  law,  and 
enriching  them  by  his  encouragement  of  manufactures,  and  the  privileges 
he  accorded  to  merchants. 

What  was  his  reward  ?  Dissatisfaction,  and  opposition  from  every 
class  of  society  ;  ingratitude  and  ill-will  from  all  parties. 

The  nobles  disliked  him  because  he  had  sought  every  opportunity  of 
humbling  them  before  the  people;  the  clergy  opposed  him,  because  of 
his  sequestration  of  church  property,  and  his  assumption  of  spiritual  au- 
thority.  But  his  bitterest  enemies  were  the  hureaucraile.  He  had  in- 
vaded all  their  customs,  dischaiging  every  man.  who  had  not  studied  at 
the  university,  and  requiring  constant  labor  from  the  iirst  as  well  as  the, 
last  of  the  employees.  He  was  the  terror  of  all  aspirants  for  civil  office, 
and  the  whole  body  hated  him,  embarrassed  his  steps,  and  ruined  his 
^^lans  by  voluntary  misconception  of  all  his  orders. 

As  yet,  there  was  no  outburst  of  dissatisfaction.  The  discontent  was 
latent,  and  Joseph  still  indulged  the  hope  of  outliving  opposition,  and 
proving  to  his  subjects  that  all  the  innovations  which  they  had  so  un- 
gratefully endured,  were  for  the  ultimate  good  of  the  Austrian  nation. 

He  was  therefore   ill-prepared   for  the  news  which  reached   him  from 

*  This  bffiutiful  woman,  "  th"  ornament  of  the  most  clegnnt  ciri'Ios  in  Vienna,"'  as  she  is  called 
by  thu  chroniclers  of  the  times,  was  condemned  to  three  days  of  pillory,  thes-ime  pdnishment  a* 
that  suffered  by  the  victim  of  her  wickedness  sHd  cnquelry.    She  was  then  sent  {juarded  to  the  ' 
'•onflhes  of  Austria,  from  whence  she  w'lg  banished  for  life     Sw  ITubner  II,  W'i.    Grosa-IIofBu- 
s;ovIII. 


KMPKl'.OR    OF  AUSTRIA. 


yi 


Hungary.  lie  had  freed  the  people  from  slavery  and  taxation,  and  had 
exacted"  that  the  nobles  should  pay  their  sharo  of  the  imperial  taxes. 
He  had  instiluted  a  general  conscriplion,  and  the  most  powerful  Magyar 
in  Hungary  was  bound  to  serve,  bide  by  side,  with  the  lowest  peabant. 
Finally  he  had  forbidden  the  use  of  ai.y  other  lungunge  in  Hungary  save 
the  German. 

A  crv  of  indignation  was  heard  from  every  turrelted  castle  in  the  land. 
They  were  wounded  in  the  rights  hitherto  guaraniet-d  to  them  by  every 
Emperor  of  Austria.  And  above  all  other  oppression,  they  were  to  be 
robbed  of  their  mother  tongue,  that  they  might  lose  their  nationality, 
and  become  a  poor  Austrian  dependency."  f 

But  Joseph's  enactments,  were  not  only  detested  by  the  nobles,  they 
were  equally  unwelcome  to  the  people.  The  latter  were  horror-stricken 
by  the  general  conscription,  and  fled^by  thousands  to  take  refuge  among 
the  mountains,  fiom  the  conscriblng  oilicers. 

One  of  their  own  class,  however,  succeeded  in  drawing  them  from 
their  hiding-places.  The  loud  voice  of  Horja  rang  throu^iout  "every 
valley,  and  ascended  to  every  mountain-summit — he  called  them  to  Lib- 
erty, and  Equality.  He  asserted  that  nobility  was  to  be  destroyed  in 
Hungary  ;  there  were  to  be  no  more  castles,  no  more  magnates  of  the 
land,  the  Emperor  had  proihised  as  much  in  Vienna ;  he  had  sworn  to 
.free  the  Hungarian  peasantry,  and  to  bring  the  prbud  noble  down  to  an 
equality  with  his  serf.  The  hour  for  fullilment  had  arrived.  All  the 
new  laws  regarded  the  nobles  alone,  they  had  no  reference  to  the  peas- 
antry, whom  the  Emperor  had  promised  to  make  free,  happy,  and  rich. 
He  needed  the  help  of  his  Hungarians ;  they  must  complete  what  he 
had  ^egun. 

The  peasant  was  to  be  free,  happy,  rich  !  This  was  the  magic  song 
w[hich  attracted  the  boor  from  his  thatch  under  the  hill,  and  the  goatherd 
from  his  hut  amid  the  mountain-peaks. 

Horja  was  the  Ariou  who  sang,  wnd  now  to  his  standard  flocked  thou- 
sands of  deluded  beings,  all  eager  to  complete  the  work  which  the  Em- 
peror had  begun.  Joseph  had  made  them  tree,  it  remained  for  themsel- 
ves to  plunder  the  nobles,  and  appropriate  their  long-hoarded  wealth. 
It  was  the  Emperor's  will  ;  he  hated  ihe  Magyars,  and  loved  the  peas- 
antry. If  ever  any  of  those  poor,  ignorant  wretches  held  back,  Horja 
showed  them  a  massive  gold  chain-to 'which  the  Emperor's  portrait  was 
attached.  This  had  been  sent  to  him  by  Joseph  himself,  and  in  proof 
thereof,  he  had  a  parchment  full  of  gilt  letters  with  a  great  seal  attached 
to  it,  which  made  him  Captam-General  of  Hungary.  They  could  all 
come  and  read  the  Emperor's  own  writing,  if  they  chose. 

Poor  fellows!  None  of  them  knew  how  to  read  ;  so  that  Krischau,  a 
friend  of  Horja  and  a  priest  of  the  Greek  Church,  read  it  for  all  who 
doubted.  This  brought  conviction  to  the  most  sceptical.  That  a  Greek 
priest  could  read  a  lie,  never  once  entered  the 'heads  of  these  simple 

children  of  nature. 

♦That  was  precisely  Jo'fpli's  object.    And  yet  he  wondered  that  this  peovle  did  not  l..ve  liim. 


V'^  JiJSEl'll  J'HE  SECOXU. 

Now  commenced  the  carnage.  The  nobles  were  imprisoned  and  mur- 
dered, their  castles  burned,  and  their  fields  laid  waste.  The  aristocracy 
of  the  borders,  whose  territorial  domains  the  insurgents  had  not  yet 
reached,  armed  themselves,  and  having  captured  somn  of  the  rebels,  put 
them  to  death  under  circumstances  of  exaggerated  cruelty,  executing 
them  by  the  power  which  the  Magyar  possessed  of  administering  justice 
.'IS  an  independent  Prince. 

These  executions,  unsanctioned  by  the  Emperor,  raised  the  indigna- 
tion of  the  people  to  ungovernable  fury,  and  they,  now  demanded  the 
entire  extinction  of  the  nobles.  They  were  summoned  to  resign  their 
titles,  and  until  the  coronation  of  Joseph,  the  rightful  king  of  Hungary, 
they  were  to  obey  their  lawful  ruler,  Horja. 

The  nobles  not  having  condescended  to  take  any  notice  of  TTorja's 
summons,  the  people  began  to  pillage  and  murder  M'ith  redoubled,  fury. 
They  spared  everything,  however,  belonging  to  the  Emperor;  the  only 
nobleman  ^ho  would  ever  be  suffered  to  own  land  in  Hungary. 

Joseph  could  no  longer  turn  a  deaf  ear  to  the  remonstrances  of  the 
Magyars.  He  had-hoped  to  be  able  to  quell  the  rebellion  by  lenity; 
olfering  a  general  amnesty  to  all  offenders  with  the  exception  of  Horja, 
for  whose  capture,  a  reward  of  three  hundred  ducats  was  offered.  But 
the  poor,  deluded  peasantry,  having  fliith  in  no  one  but  H©rja,  thought 
that  the  offer  of  pardon  was  nothing  but  an  artifice  of  the  enemy.  The 
Emperor,  then,  was  obliged  to  march  the  imperial  troops  against  the 
people,  and  to  bring  about  with  musket  and  cannon  what  he  had  hoped 
to  accomplish  through  moral  suasion. 

Horja,  finding  that  he  had  nothing  more  to  hope  frorn  the  clemency 
of  the  Emperor,  tried  to  induce  the  disaffected  nobles  to  accept  his  f)eas- 
antry  and  rebel  against  Joseph.  But  they  rejected  the  offer  with  dis- 
dain, and  gave  their  support  to  the  imperial  troops.  Thousands  deliv- 
ered themselves  up,  imploring  mercy  which  was  granted  them.  Thou- 
sands tied  to  the  mountains,  and  thousands  were  taken  prisoners. 
Among  these  latter  were  Horja  and  Krischan.  Both  were  condemned 
to  death.  Hgrja  pleaded  hard  to  be  allowed  to  see  the  Emperor,  alleg- 
ing that  he  had  something  of  importance  to  communicate  to  him.  But 
his  prayer  was  not  granted.  Perhaps  Joseph  suspected  that  Horja  would 
prove  to  him  what  he  already  dreaded  to  know,  namely,  that  the  nobles 
had  connived  at  this  insurrection  of  the  peasantry,  to  frighten  him  with 
the  consequences  of  his  own  acts, 

Horja  was  not  permitted  then  to  see  his  Sovereign.  He  was  broken 
on  a  wheel  on  the  market-place  at  Carlsburg,  and  two  thousand  of  the 
captured  insurgents  were  forced  to  witness  the  cruel  spectacle.* 

Thus  ended  this  fearful  outbreak,  by  which  four  thousand  men  perish- 
ed, sixty-two  villages  and  thirty-two  castles  were  consumed,  and  the  de- 
luded peasantry,  instead  of  freedom,  happiness  and  wealth,  found  three- 
fold oppression  at  the  hands  of  their  masters. 

The  magnates  and  nobles,  meanwhile,  stood  upon  the  ruins  of  their 

*  On  the  8d  of  Jauuary.  1785]  ' 


EMl'EKOK  OF  AUSTRIA.  1>3 

castles  and  cried  out,    "  This  is  the  work  ol'  Joseph !     These  are  the 
fruits  o»" his  insensate  reforms!"* 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

THE  JEw's  UEVJENGK. 

The  Emperor  paced  his  cabinet  in  nnuBua!  agitation.  Contrary  to 
his  daily  habits,  the  Controlorgang  was  closed,  and  his  Secretaries  had 
been  ordered  to  remain  in  the  chancery,  and  do  their  writinj;  there.  Ho 
must  be  alone;  no  human  beinpj  should  witness  his  sorrow-stricken  face 
and  his  burning  eyes — for  the  Emperor  had  been  weeping. 

A  great  sorrow  had  befallen  him.  Giinther,  his  indefatigable  co-la- 
borer, the  trustiest  of  counsellors,  the  man  whom  next  to  Lacy  and  lio- 
senberg,  ne  loved  best  on  earth,  Giinther  had  betrayed  him  !  He  had 
sold  a  secret  of  state  for  gold  ! . 

There  before  him  on  the  table  lay  the  reports  of  the  secret  police, 
w^ose  duty  it  was  to  open  all  letters  passing  through  the  post,  and  to 
present  such  as  looked  suspicious.f  Among  these  letters  was  one  which 
strongly  inculpated  Giinther.  It  was  written  by  Baron  Eskeles  Flies  to 
a  commercial  triend  in  Amsterdam.  It  stated  that  he  (Eskeles  Flies) 
had  just  received  a  communication  of  such  vital  importance  that  it  was 
worth  much  more  to  him  than  the  thousand  ducats  he  had  paid  to  his 
inforrper.  The  Emperor,  tired  of  his  conteniion  with  Holland  regarding 
the  navigation  of  the  Scheldt,  had  agreed  to  accept  the  ten  millions  of- 
fered by  Holland  in  return  for  his  guarantee  that  she  should  still  pre- 
serve her  right  to  deiiiand  toll  of  all  ships  passing  through  that  portion 
of  the  river  which  was  within  the  Dutch  boundaries.  J. 

Eskeles  Flies  besought  his  Amsterdam  correspondent  to  procure  him 
this  loan,  which  he  was  ready  to  advance  to  the  Republic  ifi  four  instal- 
ments. He  bound  his  friend  to  strict  secresy,  for  the  information  he 
imparted  was  not  to  be  made  public  for  twenty-four  hours,  and  the  pos- 
session of  this  secret  gave  them  signal  advantage  over'all  otherbankers. 

Now  Giinther  alone  had  been  entrusted  by  the  Eraperor  with  this  se- 

*  Tlubncr  1,  pagn  278.— Gross  Hofflngcr  3,  pnpo  135. — Eamshorn,  page  138. 
+  The  Emperor  Kranz  »nd  Metteruich  A  fragment.  (From  Hormayr,  page  79.) 
'  X  -Toseph  had  claimed  from  Holland  the  right  to  navigate  the  Pcheldt,  and  the  cana's  d'f;  by  tho 
Dutch,  freo  of  toU.  'Ihese  latter  refused,  and  the  Emperor  ^rthwith  marched  his  troops  into  Hol- 
land. He  had  cxjiected  to  bo  sustained  by  the  other  m^toe  powert!  of  Europe,  but  they,  protec- 
ting tho  Dutch,  Joseph  was  obliied  to  withdraw  his  trfwM'  But  he  cl.iinicd  an  indemnity  for  the 
expenses  incurred  by  putting  Ijis  regiments  upon  a  war»!R)tin(^,  and  demanded  twenty  millions. 
He  then  agreed  to  take  fifteen,  t)ut  was  finally  obliged  to  bo  content  with  ten,  which  was  all  that 
the  Dutch'would  allow  him.  Whereupon  Frederic  the  Great  snid  that  Joaeph  had  cried  ifcut  for  a 
great  euiu,  but  had  been  obllgetl  to  come  down  to  a  "  pour  boirc." 


04  josErn  the  secono. 

cret  of  state.  With  the  exception  of  Prince  Kaunitz,  not  another  man 
ill  Austria  ivnew  that  Joseph  intended  to  accept  the  prolTered  indemnity. 
Jt  was  clear  then  that  Giinlher  was  the  traitor,  and  yet  his  imperial  mas- 
ter would  not  believe.  He  clung  to  the  hope  that  something  might  yet 
occnr  to  exculpate  his  favorite,  though  how  or  whence  exoneration  was 
to  come,  he  could  not  conceive. 

The  banker  had  been  summoned,  and  the  Emperor  awaited  his  com- 
ing. In  the  impatience  of  his  heart  he  had  sent  a  courier,  and  after  the 
courier,  his  own  carriage,  for  he  could  not  endure  his  suspense  one  mo- 
ment longer  than  was  unavoidable.  Often  as  he  paced  the  room,  his 
heart  throbbing  violently,  he  paused  to  listen,  and  then  glanced  again 
and  again  at  the  clock,  to  see  if  the  banker  could  be  nigh. 

"  If  it  be  true,"  thought  he,  resuming  his  agitated  walk,  '■'  I  shall  never 
trust  man  again.  1  believed  that  Giinther's  heart  was  as  noble  as  his 
fiice — Is  it  possible  that  such  a  countenance  should  lie  ;  Giinther,  the 
generous,  disinterested  Giinther — can  it  be  that  he  has  sold  my  secrets'? 
— I  cannot — will  not  believe  it.  I  must  see  himself,  and  hear  his  defence 
from  his  own  lips." 

Hurried  along  by  this  magnanimous  impulse,  the  Emperor  approach- 
ed the  door.  But  he  paused,  and  shook  his  head.  "  No,  no  ;  conviction 
must  come  from  testimony,  not  from  assertion.  Men  are  all  actors,  and 
often  have  1  seen  how  skilfully  they  wear  the  mask  of  innocence.  1  have 
been  too  often  deceived Ah  !     There  at  last  is  the  banker." 

Yes — it  was  he.  The  page  flung  open  the  door,  and  announced  "  Baroir 
Von  Eskeles  Flies." 

The  Biron  entered  the  room.     He  had  grown  old  since  Eachel's  flight. 
Scarcely  a  year  had  elapsed  since  then ;  but  in  that  year  her  father's  ra 
ven  locks  had  grown  white  as  snow,  and  the  .stalwart  man  of  fifty  had' 
grown  old  and  feeble. 

The  Emperor  came  forward,  and  extended  his  hand.  "  Look  at  me, 
Eskeles,"  said  he  in  his  quick,  eager  way,  "do  not  bow  so  ceremonious- 
ly, we  have  no  time  to  waste  on  formalities.  Look  at  me,  and  let  me 
see  whether  you  are  an  honest  man,  scorning  falsehood  even  though  it 
might  shield  a  fellow-creature  from  harm !" 

The  banker  looked  the  Emperor  full  in  the  face,  and  bore  tJie  scrutiny 
of  his  searching  eyes  without  wincing.  / 

"  I  see  that  you  can  look  me  in  the  face,"  said  Joseph.  "  You  will 
speak  the  truth." 

"  The  Jew  is  forbidden  by  his  religious  code  to  lie,"  was  the  reply. 
Joseph  crossed  the  room  quickly,  and  taking  a  letter  from  his  escritoire, 
gave  it  to  the  babker.     "  Is  this  your  writing  V 

Eskeles  lifted  his  eyes  slowW  to  the  paper,  and  seemed  surprised. 
"  Yes,  that  is  my  writing.  I  pbsted  this  letter  yesterday.  How  then 
do  I  find  it  here  ?     Its  detentiorlfe  a  serious  inconvenience  to  me." 

He  said  this  with  the  demeanor  of  a  merchant  whose  mind  is  upon 
his  business,  and  who  has  no  idea  that  it  can  concern  any  other  person. 

''The  letter  was  sent  to  rae  by  the  secret  police,"  said  the  Emperor. 


EMP£KOK   OF  AUSTRIA.  iKi 

The  banker  looked  up  in  astonishment.  "Ah  !"  exclaimed  he,  "Then 
the  tales  which  .ire  told  of  the  opening  of  all  our  letters  by  detectives, 
are  not  Avbles  !" 

"  No— they  are  not  fables,  and  I  am  justified  in  (he  sorutiny.  Men 
arc  so  corrupt,  that  our  only  defence  against  treachery  is  cs-pionorje.  It 
is  a  pity  that  it  should  bo  so,  but  as  Ion;:;  as  the  people  are  base,  then- 
Sovereigns  must  stop  short  of  no  means  to  foil  them." 

"  But  1  have  never  sinned  against  your  Majesty.  Why  then  is  my 
letter  open  to  suspicion?" 

"  Every  man  is  suspected  by  the  secret  police,"  replied  Joseph  with 
a  shrug.  "  For  that  reason  1  gave  orders  to  stop  every  letter  address- 
ed to"Hollarid.  The  precaution  had  been  made  imperative  by  our  mis- 
understandings with  that  country.  And  you  see  yourself  that  your  let- 
ter betrays  a  secret  of  state." 

"  Betrays  !"  repeated  the  banker.  "  We  betray  that  which  we  are 
expected  to  bury  within  the  recesses  of  our  own  heart.  But  this  news 
was  to  go  out  into  the  world  and  was  a  subject  for  percentage.  J  should 
have  made  at  least  half  a  million,  had  my  letter  not  been  unluckily  de 
tained  by  your  Majesty." 

"  1  shall  not  prevent  you  from  earning  your  percentage,"  replied  Jo- 
.<:eph  Bcornfully.  "  Your  letter  .shall  go  to-day,  and  my  dispatches  shall 
be  detained  until  to-morrow.  In  that  way  you  can  still  make  your  half 
million." 

The  banker  bowed.  "  1  thank  your  Majesty  for  your  exceeding  con- 
descension," said  he. 

"  I  will  do  you  this  favor,  but  you  must  do  me  a  service  in  return." 

"  It  is  not  necessary  for  your  Majesty  to  concede  me  the  right  to  earn 
half  a  niillion  to  buy  my  services,"  said  Eskcles  with  a  slight  shade  of 
reproach.  "  I  hope  that  I  hav^  always  been  ready  to  serve  your  Majes- 
ty, even  when  no  percentage  was  to  be  gained  thereby." 

"  And  I  have  recognized  it  Baron  Eskeles  Flies.  But  I  do  not  speak 
of  pecuniary  services  to-day.  I  ask  a  favor  of  another  nature.  Tell  me 
then,  without  reserve,  who  is  the  man  that  receives  a  thousand  ducats 
for  revealing  a  secret  of  state  to  you." 

The  banker  started,  as  if  he  had  received  a  shot,  and  glanced  inquiring- 
ly at  the  Emperor.     '•  Was  that  in  the  letter "?"  asked  he. 

Joseph  gave  it  into  his  hands.  Eskeles  perused  it  eagerly,  and  then, 
murmured  in  a  voice  of  exceeding  contrition,  "  Aye,  it  is  there.  1  was 
indiscreet."  Then  as  if  overcome  by  his  fault,  his  head  sank  upon  his 
breast. 

"  I  await  your  answer,"  .said  the  Emperor.  "  Who  betrayed  me  to 
you  for  a  thousaed  ducats?" 

The  banker  raised  his  head  as  if  making  a  difficult  resolve.  "  Your 
Majesty,  that  was  an  idle  boast  of  mine  to  enhance  the  value  of  my  news." 

"  Mere  evasion.  Baron,"  replied  Joseph  angrily.  "  Even  if  you  had 
not  written  the  words  in  that  letter,  1  should  still  a^c  of  you,  who  it  is 
that  betrays  my  secrets  ?" 


t>6  JOSErH  THE  SECOND. 

"  No  one,  sire,"  replied  Eskeles  uneasily.  *'  I  guessed  it.  Yes,  yes," 
— continued  he  as  though  a  happy  idea  had  just  struck  him — "  that  is  it 
— I  guessed  it.  Every  one  knows  of  your  Majesty's  difficulty  with  Hol- 
land, and  I  might  wel]  guess  that  you  would  be  glad  to  end  this  strife 
by  accepting  the  ten  millions,  and  so  save  your  subjects  from  the  hor- 
rors of  war." 

"You  aie  not  the  truthful  man  (  had  supposed.  There  is  no  logic  in 
your  lies,  Baron  Eskeles.  You  might  guess  that  1  would  accept  the  ten 
millions,  but  as  you  are  not  omniscient,  you  could  not  say  positively 
that  I  had. written  my  dispatches  yesterday,  and  would  sign  them  to-day, 
,  Your  inventions  are  clumsy,  Baron,  and  I  must  say  that  they  do  yoa 
honor,  for  they  prove  that  you  have  little  experience  in  the  art  of  lying. 
But  the  truth  1  must  have,  and  as  your  lord  and  Emperor,  I  command 
you  to  speak.     For  the  third  time,  who  betrayed  ray  secrets  to  you  ?" 

!'  Oh,  sire,  I  swore  not  to  betray  him,"  said  Eskeles  in  a  faltering 
voice.  -^ 

"  I  absolve  you  from  the  oath.''' 

"  But  the  God  of  Israel  cannot  absolve  me.  1  cannot  speak  the  name 
of  the, man,  but your  Majesty  can  guess  it." 

He  was  silent  for  a  few  moments,  then  raising  his  head,  the  Emperor 
saw  that  his  face  had  become  deadly  pale.  In  a  low  unsteady  voice,  he 
continued  :  "  Your  Majesty  knows  that  I  once  had  a  daughter." 

"  Had  1     You  have  a  daughter.  Baron." 

"  She  is  dead  to  me,"  murmured  Eskeles  so  inaudibly  that  the  Em- 
peror scarcely  heard  htm,  "  She  left  me  a  year  ago  for  a  man  whom 
she  loved  better  than  her  father." 

"But  she  left  because  you  "would  have  married  her  to  a  man  whom 
she  hated.     Giinther  told  me  so." 

"  Yes,  sire.  I  had  no  idea  that  my  unhappy  child  would  go  to  such 
extremity.  Had  she  entreated  me  as  she  should  have  done,  I  would 
have  yielded  ;  but  her  lover  had  hardened  her  heart  against  me,  and  she 
abandoned  me — not  to  become  the  honorable  wife  of  any  man,  but  to 
lead  a  life  of  shame  and  reproach.  Kachel  is  not  married,  she  is  the 
mistress  of  that  man." 

"  This,  too,  is  your  fault.  Baron.  You  made  her  swear  never  to  be- 
come a  Christian,  and  by  our  laws  she  could  not  marry  him.  But  he 
considers  her  as  his  wife.  You  see  that  I  know  all.'  Giinther,  to  justify 
himself,  confided  to  me  the  whole  history  of  his  Jove." 

"  He  did  not  tell  the  truth,  sire.  My  daughter  herself  is  unwilling  to 
become  a  Christian." 

"  Then  she  is  a  conscientious  Jewess  V 

"  No,  sire,  she  does  not  attend  the  Synagogue." 

"  What  is  she,  then?"  asked  the  Emperor  astonished. 

"She  is  a  Deist,  and  precisely  because  I  required  of  her  to  profess 
either  Judaism  or  Christianity,  she  fled  to  that  man  whom  she  cannot  be 
made  to  believe  is  the  suitor  of  her  wealth  and  not  of  herself." 

"  Do  you  think,  then,  that  Giinther  is  interested  ?" 


b;mi'kkor  ok  austkia.  '.»7 

*•  I  know  it,  sire.  He  olfered  for  a  hundred  thousand  (loruis  to  re- 
nounce Rachel  and  deliver  her  up  to  rue.  Here  is  his  letter  ;  your  Ma- 
jesty can  see  it." 

The  Emperor  tonk  the  letter,  and  read  it.  "  It  is  his  writing,"  mur- 
mured he  sorrowfully,  "  it  is  too  true." 

"I  refused,"  continued  Kskeles.  "1  would  not  buy  ray  daughter 
back.     I  therefore  waited  to  see  whati  would  follow."  , 

*'•  What  followed  ?" 

The  banker  was  silent  for  a  moment,  then  sijrhing,"  he  said  in  low- 
trembling  tones.  '•  Not  long  after,  I  received  another  letter.  He  said 
he  was  straitened  in  means,  that  Rachel  was  pampered,  and  required  so 
n^any  luxuries  that  she  had  exhausted  his  purse.  As  I  would  not  listen 
to  his  first  proposition,  he  had  another  to  make.  1  would  give  him  a  cer- 
tain sura,  and  he  would  do  me  a  substantial  service." 

"  He  offered  a  thousand  ducats,  did  he  not?" 

"  I  do  not  remember,  '^^e  sum  is  stated  in  the  letter.  Here  it  is, 
your  Majesty."  And  with  these  words  Eskeles  drew  a  paper  from  his 
bosom. 

"  It  is,  it  is,"  said  the  Emperor  in  a  voice  of  anguish,  "  I  can  no  longer 
doubt  his  treachery." 

Eskeles  yiies  returned  the  paper  to  his  bosom.  *'I  keep  this  on  my 
person,"  t>aid  he,  "  because  when  Rachel  returns  to  mc,  it  will  cure  her 
of  her  love  for  such  a  villain." 

"Giinther,  then  received  the  money?"  said  Joseph. 

"  He  did,  sire." 

"Then  you  no  longer  deny  that  he  was  the  Judas." 

"  Your  Majesty  can  remember  which  of  your  Secretaries  was  charged 
"with  the  copying  of  your  dispatches." 

The  Emperor  sighed — "  I  know,  I  know,"  murmured  he,  '•  and  yet  it 
pains  me  so  to  believe  it,  for  I  have  loved  him  sincerely." 

"  And  1  hav«  loved  my  daughter,"  returned  Eslieles.  "  This  man 
stole  her  from  me,  and  has  converted  my  child  into  a  Deist." 

"  She  shall  be  returned  to  you,  and  Giinther  shall  receive  the  punish- 
ment of  his  crimes,"  cried  Joseph  in  a  loud  and  angry  voice.  "  No 
mercy  for  hivi !  I  shall  know  how  to  act  as  becomes  a  wronged,  and 
outraged  Sovereign." 

"  But  that  will  not  restore  my  child,"  said  Eskeles  dise«nsolateIy. 
•'  What  good  is  it  to  me  that  this  wretch  is  to  suffer?  It  will  not  bring 
back  Rdchel.  And  even  if  she  should  be  forced  to  seek  my  protection, 
what  comfort  can  I  derive  from  one  who  is  a  Deist — a  creature  who 
mocks  at  religion  ?" 

"  She  will  be  obliged  to  become  one  thing,  -or  the  other,  if  she  would 
shield  herself  from  the  fearful  consequences  of  her  scepticism." 

"That  is  it,"  cried  Eskeles  joyfully.  "Your  Majesty  has  found  the 
remedy.  Rachel  must  be  threatened  with  the  disgrace  of  legal  punish- 
ment, and  then  she  will  repent,  and  return  to  her  father.  Sire,  I  accuse 
her  of  Deism.     I  exact  that  she  be  brought  to  judcm«nt." 


9rS  JOSBTH   TUB  SK(.UNi>. 

"  To  juilj^raent !''  exclaimed  ihe  Emperor.  "  Do  you  know  the  pun- 
ishment, for  her  ortence.i?" 

''  Fifty  lashes  on  the  ofTtmder's  back  !  But  fear  will  save  her.  My 
Rachel  will  never  dare  tn  avow  herself  a  Deist." 

'•  Perhaps  not — but  i,  as  a  Christian,  cannot  allow  you  to  force  her 
back  to  Judaism." 

'•  Then  try  to  make  a  Christian  of  her,  sire.  O,  I  beseech  of  you,  lenc^ 
yourself  to  my  paternal  stratagem  for  her  restoration  to  honor  !  Act 
upoi  m}' accusation ;  have  her  imprisoned  in  her  home;  and  for  four 
weeks,  let  a  priest  visit  her  daily  to  instruct  her  in  your  Majesty's  faith. 
Then  let  her  decide  whether  she  will  become  a  Christian  or  remain  a 
Jewess." 

"  Bethink  you  that  if  she  should  prove  contumacious,  I  cannot  rescue 
her  from  punishment.  If  you  persist  in  your  accusation,  remember  that 
the  law  must  take  its  cour.'=?e." 

"  I  persist,  and  demand  investigation." 

"  It  shall  be  granted  you.  And  now  here  is  your  letter.  Post  it  to- 
day, and  it  will  still  be  tVenty-four  hours  in  advance  of  mine.  We 
must  both  perform  our  duty,  you  as  a  merchant,  I  as  a  Sovereign,  and 
believe  me,  you  shall  have  revenge  for  the  wrongs  inflicted  upon  you  by 
ihe  double  traitor,  who  has  betrayed  his  Emperor,  and  his  mistress  !" 

"  1  care  nothing  for  his  punishment,"  i-epeated  Eskeles  wearily,  "all 
that  I  ask,  is  ray  daughter." 

The  Emperor  gave  his  hand,  and  the  banker 'pressing  it  to  his  lips, 
backed  out  of  the  cabfnet.  Joseph  looked  after  him  with  sympathising 
eyes.  "Poor  man!  Grief  has  made  him  old.  Sorrow  lengthens  days 
rx)  years,  and  wrinkles  many  a  brow  which  time  has  never  touched." 

But  without,  Baron  Eskeles  Flies  had  changed  his  mien.  No  longer 
bowed  down  with  grief,  he  stood  triumphantly  reviewing  the  success  of 
his  strategy. 

"  I  am  revenged !"  thought  he.  "  Short-sighted  Empeior,  you  do  not 
dream  that  you  are  the  tool  wherewith  the  Jew  has  wreaked  his  ven- 
geance upon  the  Christian  !  Go  on,  and  ruin  your  faithful  friend  !  Go 
on,  hot-headed  judge,  punish  the  man  who  loves  you  without  giving  him 
a  hearing;  and  imagine  yourself  to  be  administering  justice,  while  you 
inflict  the  grossest  injustice! — It  is  so  Christian-like?  Follow  the  in- 
stincts of  your  love  and  hate,  your  passion,  or  your  pleasures,  ye  chil- 
dren  of  the  tnoraent,  while  the  calculatincf  Jew  plays  upon  your  creduli- 
ty ! — And  now,  God  of  my  fathers,  let  the  Christian  priest  but  irritate 
my  child  with  his  importunities,  and  she  will  seek  refuge  from  his  per- 
5>ccutions  in  the  Synagogue !'' 


K    OF  Al'bTKlA.  t»'» 


CHAl'TEK    XXVI. 

THE    KAVOK    01"   VKINCES. 

The  Emperor  thrust  open  the  door  which  led  from  his  cabinet  to  the 
chancery.  There  at  the  long,  green  table,  immersed  in  their  business, 
sat  thft  lour  imperial  Secretaries,  and  next  to  the  arm-chair,  %vhich  was 
surmounted  ])y  the  Austrian  crown,  sat  the  unconscious  Giinther.  Had 
Giinther  seen  the  look  with  which  Joseph  regarded  him  as  he  sat  quiet- 
ly writing,  his  heart  would  have  grown  chill  with  apprehension.  But 
iot  an  eye  there  was  raiso'd.  One  of  the  Emperor's  most  stringent  or- 
ders forbade  the  Secretaries,  when  in  the  Chancery,  to  raise  their  heads 
on  any  account.  They  were  to  take  no  note  of  the  entrance  of  Joseph 
himself,  they  were  co-workers,  and  no  time  was  to  be  wasted  in  ceremo- 
nial. 

Joseph  seated  himself  in  silence,  and  taking  up  a  pen,  wrote  a  few- 
hasty  lines  upon  a  sheet  of  paper.  He  then  rang,  and  delivered  the  pa- 
per  to  a  page. 

"  Take  this  to  the  Colonel  commanding  the  recruits,"  said  he,  and  his 
voice  trembled  as  he  spoke  the?e  few  words.  There  was  a  long  silence  • 
the  Secretaries  continued  to  write,  and  Giinther,  always  obedient  to  or- 
ders, had  not  once  raised  his  head.  His  countenance  was  as  tranquil  as 
it  had  ever  been. 

"Giinther,"  said  the  Emperor,  in  an  imperious  tone,  "  begin  a  new- 
sheet,  and  write  what  1  shall  dictate." 

Giinther  bowed,  and  prepared  to  obey.  The  others  went  on  with  their 
work.  Had  Joseph  nor.  been  so  blinded  by  indignation  against  his  pri- 
vate Secretary,  he  might  have  seen  how  one  of  the  others  raised  his  head 
and  glanced  furtively  around  ;  how  his  face  was  pale,  and  his  lips  were 
twitching  ;  and  how  his  hand  was  so  tremulous  that  he  was  scarcely  able  ' 
to  hold  his  pen.  No  one  observed  it.  The  other  Secretaries  were  wri- 
ting — the  Emperor,  in  his  wrath,  saw  nothing  but  Giinther. 

And  now  with  flashing  eyes,  he  called  upon  Giinther  to  write. 

"To  his  Eminence,  Cardinal  Megazzi : 

It  has  come  to  my  knowledge  that  the  absurd  sect,  which  originated  in 
Bohemia,  is  spreading  its  pernicious  tenets  even  to  our  capital.  A- 
heart-brokeu  father  has  this  day  come  before  me  to  accuse  his  daughter 
of  Deism.  To  what  extremes  the  Deists  go  in  their  imbecility,  is  shown 
by  the  feet  that  this  girl,  who  has  defied  Heaven,  the  laws  of  her  coun- 
try, and  the  authority  of  her  Hrther,  has  left  the  paternal  roof  and  h  now 
living  a  life  of  shame  with  her  paramour.    She  must  either  proffsp  s'^me 


100  JUSEPtJ  THE  SECOMi. 

fhith,  or  be  punished  as  the  Jaw  directs.  To  this  end,  your  Eminence 
will  commission  an  intelligent  priest  tq  visit,  and  instruct  her  in  the 
tenets  of  Christianity.  From  this  day  she  is  a  prisoner  in  her  own 
house;  but  as  she  is  of  Jevvi.sh  birth,  (and  I  do  not  wish  to  have  it  said 
thnt  we  have  forced  her  into  Christianity,)  a  Jewish  Rabbi  can  also  have 
•  laily  access  to  this  unhappy  infidel.  I  give  to  both  priests  four  weeks 
to  convert  her.  If  at  the  end  of  that  time,  she  continues  contumacious, 
she  must  be  punished,  as  the  Josephine  Code  directs,  with  fiity  lashes."* 

The  Emperor  had  dictated  this  letter  in  sharp  biting  tones,  while  Giin- 
ther,  nothing  apprehending,  had  written  it.  Once  only,  when  the  accus- 
ed had  been  designated  as  a  Jewess,  his  pen  faltered,  and  his  handsome 
Boble  face  was  contracted  for  a  moment  by  pain.  But  the  pang  had 
been  sympathetic  and  j-nomentary. 

"  Havo  you  written  T'  asked  the  Emperor,  striking  the  table  with  his 
clenched  hand.  i 

"I  have  written,  sire,"  replied  Giinther,  in  his  fine,  sonorous  voic^, 
.-whose  familiar  tones,  iu  spite  of  himself,  stirred  the  innermost  depths  of 
his  misguic^d  Sovereign's  heart. 

"  Now,  answer  tne  one  question,"  continued  Joseph,  hoarsely,  "Have 
you  ever  received  a  thousand  ducats  from  Eskelcs  Flies  ?" 

Again  the  head  of  one  of  the  Secretaries  was  furtively,  raised,  the 
hands  shook  like  aspen  leaves,  and  the  eyes  gave  one  rapid  glance  to- 
wards the  side  of  the  table  where  Giinther  sat'. 

The  Emperor,  as  before,  was  too  blinded  by  passion  to  see  anything 
save  the  innocent  object  of  his  wrath.  Giinther  was  surprised  at  the 
lone  in  which  the  question  had  been  asked,  and  seemed  at  last  to  be 
.•iware  that  it  was  one  full  of  significance.  But  his  reply  was  prompt 
jiud  calm. 

"  Yes,  sire,  I  received  that  sum  yesterday.  Not  for  ine,  but  for  a  lady 
whose  name  is  well  known  to  your  Majesty.  It  was  a  legacy,  left  by 
her  mother." 

Joseph  laughed  scornfully.  "  Give  me  the  note  to  the  Cardinal,"  cried 
he.  Giinther  presented  it,  and  having  signed  it,  the  Emperor  gave  it 
into  the  hands  of  the  Secretary  opposite.  "  Fold  and  address  the  letter," 
said  he,  ''  But  stop — Write  first  the  address  of  the  person  who  presumes 
to  avow  herself  a  Deist  in  the  face  of  my  laws.  Her  name  is  Rachel 
Eskeles  Flies."  "  . 

A  cry  of  anguish  burst  from  Giiather's  lips,  and,  in  his  madness,  he 
would  have  snatched  the  horrid  missive  from  the  Secretary's  hands. 
But  he  recollected  himself ;  and  turning  his  blanched  face  towards  the 
En:iperor,  he  exclaimed, 

"  Mercy,  gracious  Sovereign,  mercy  for  my  Rachel !  You  have  been 
\vickedly  de<:eived." 

"  Aye  !"  cried  Joseph,  "I  have  been  wickedly  deceived,  but  he  who 
has  dared  to  betray  me,  shall  be  made  to  suffer  for  his  crime.     Rise 

'Orsss  lloERiiycr  III.  p.  r;?. 


from  this  table  and  leave  this  room.     You  anj  diiiinissed  fiom  niy  ser- 
vice as  a  false  tr.iitur!" 

"What,  your  Majesty  t"  cried  Giinther  in  (ones  that  vrrf  proud  and 
defiant.  "  You  defame  me  without  so  much  as  teilina;  nie  of  what  I  am 
accubed  !  Without  allowing  me  ihc  rij^ht  of  justilicaLioii  !  Tell  ine — 
what  have  f  done  ?" 

"  Ask  your  own  conscience,  if  you  have  one,  and  find  an  answ<^r  there/' 
cried  Joseph,  furious  at  the  lofty  bearing  of  his  victitii. 

'•  If  your  Majesty  refuses  me  that  poor  boon,"  continued  Giinther,  "I 
appeal  to  the  laws.  My  legal  judges  will  be  bound  to  hear  me  publicly 
accused,  and  to  listen  to  my  defence !" 

"  I  am  your  accuser  and  your  judge — your  only  judge,"  replied  Jo- 
seph with  concentrated  passion.  "  1  have  already  found  you  guilty  aud- 
have  already  sentenced  you." 

"  But  why.  why  ?"  cried  Giinther.  "  If  you  would  not  drive  me  raad, 
tell  me  why  !" 

"  I  shall  do  nothing  but  carry  out  your  sentence,"  said  Joseph,  ring- 
ing a  bell.  "  Are  the  men  without  V  said  he  to  the  page  who  answered, 
his  summons. 

"Yes,  your  Majesty.  A  subaltern  of  the  Third  Regiment  is  without, 
•with  four  soldiers."' 

"  Show  them  in  !"' — The  page  opened  the  door,  and  the  men  entered- 

"  You  march  to  Hungary  to  your  new  garrison  to-day,  do  you  not?" 
said  the  Emperor. 

,"  Yes,  sire — we  march  in  one  hour,"  was  the  reply. 

"Take  this  man  with  you  as  a  recruit." 

Gunther  started  forward,  and  with  an  exclamation  of  horror,  fell  at 
the  Emperor's  feet.     "  Mercy  !  Mercy  !"  gasped  he. 

"No  mercy,  but  justice  f<->r  all  men  !"  cried  Joseph  stamping  his  foot. 
Then  motioning  to  the  soldiers,  he  said  :  "Take  him  away  and  watch 
him  closely,  lest  he  escape.  Equip  him,  and  put  him  in  the  ranks. 
Away  with  you !" 

The  men  advanced,  and  Gunther,  sceiug  that  any  farther  appeal  was 
vain,  suffered  himself  to  be  led  away  in  silence.  The  door  closed  bo- 
hind  them,  and  the  Emperor  was  alone  with  his  three  Secretaries. 
There  was  a  long,  fearful  pause  through  which  the  retreating  steps  of  the 
soldiers  and  their  victim  were  heard.  When  the  echoes  had  died  away, 
the  Emperor  spoke  in  hard,  cold  tones. 

"  Giinther  was  a  traitor,  who  betrayed  the  secrets  of  the  state  for  gold. 
I  discovered  his  treachery  and  have  punished  him  accordingly.  Take 
■warning  by  his  fate  !" 

So  saying,  he  passed  into  hi.s  cabinet,  and  once  alone,  he  gave  full 
vent  to  his  bitter  grief. 

"  J  could  not  do  otherwise."  thought  he.  "  I  who  would  nut  span; 
Podsladsky  and  Szekuly,  could  not  spare  this  traitor,  though  he  ha.s 
been  verj^  dear  to  me  indeed.  He  must  suffer — but  I  shall  suffer  with 
hira.     Mercy  ia  so  much  m«re  natural  to  man  than  justice.     Still,  mer- 


it;-..'  Jii.-^r.PH    iHiV  ,-.F.i:i)_SE., 

cy  is  Llie  prerogative  of  Heaven  alone.     I  am  here  to  be  equitable  to  all." 

An  hour  later,  the  third  regiment  kift  Vienna  for  Sz^gedin,  their  new 
{garrison.  A  Tew  waguas  foflov/ed  with  liie  luggage,  and  the  sick  men 
%vho  were  unabio  to  encounter  the  hardships  of  that  formidable  march 
to  Hungary.  In  one  of  these  wagons  lay  the  new  recruit.  His  eyes 
glared  with  delirium,  and  his  lips  were  parched  with  raging  fever.  For 
a  moment  he  seemed  to  awake  from  his  dream  of  madness,  for  he  raised 
himself  a  little,  and  murmured,  "  Where  am  I  ?"  No  one  answered 
him,  but  a  flash  of  memory  revealed  to  him  the  horrors  of  his  situation, 
and  falling  back  with  a  shudder,  he  cried  out,  "  Rachel,  my  Rachel !" — 
and  then  relapsed  into  delirium. 

The  same  evening,  Barou  Eskeles  Flies  left  his  hStel  on  foot,  and  has- 
tily traversing  the  streets,  stopped  before  a  house  wliere,  ascending  to 
the  second  story,  he  rang  tHe  bell.  A  richly-liveried  servant  opened  the 
door  at  the  head  of  the  stair-case. 

''  fs  the  imperial  Secretary  Warkenhold  within*?"  asked  the  Baron. 

The  servant  did  not  know — he  would  see ; — but  the  banker  saved 
him  the  trouble  by  putting  him  aside  and  entering  the  little  vestibule. 

"  Show  me  the  way,"  said  he,  "  you  need  not  announce  me.  A  rich 
man  is  welcome  everywhere." 

The  servant  obeyed,  and  conducted  the  banker  through  a  suite  of 
apartments  whose  splendor  he  contemplated  with  a  sneer. 

"  Now  go,"  said  he,  as  the  servant  pointed  to  a  portiere.  "  I  shall  an- 
nounce myself." 

He  drew  the  'portiere  and  knocked.  Then,  without  waiting  for  an  an- 
swer, he  entered  the  room. 

"  Eskeles  Flies  I"  cried  the  occupant,  who  was  lounging  on  a  sofa, 
and  was  no  other  than  the  Secretary  that  had  been  so  disturbed  by  the 
Emperor's  words  in  the  morning.  "  Eskeles  Flies  !"  repeated  he,  spring- 
ing from  the  sofa,  and  hastening  forward. 

"Yes,  Baron  Eskeles  Flies,"  replied  the  banker,  proudly. 

"  But  what  brings  you  to  mel"  cried  Warkenhold  terrified.  "  Your 
visit  exposes  me  to  danger." 

"  Nobody  knows  of  my  visit,  for  I  came  on  foot,  and  let  me  tell  you 
Ilerr  Warkenhold,  that  my  presence  in  your  house  is  an  honor  which  is 
not  apt  to  endanger  you." 

"  Only  to-day,,  only  at  this  time,"  murmured  Warkenhold  apologet- 
ically. 

"  Then  you  should  have  come  to  me  for  your  money-  You  said  you 
were  in  great  want,  having  lost  everything  at  cards,  and  so  1  hasten  to 
aci^uit  myself  of  my  debt.     Here  is  a  draft  for  one  thousand  ducats." 

"  Hush,  for  the  love  of  heaven  !"  whispered  Warkenhold.  "  What 
can  I  do  with  a  draft  1  I  should  never  dare  present  it  for  payment,  for 
you  know  that  the  Emperor  keeps  spies  with  a  hundred  eyes,  to  track  his 
employees.  And  suppose  I  go  to  your  office,  I  expose  myself  to  dis- 
covery." 

"  Not  at  all,"  interrupted  the  banker  lausihing.     "  Who  should  betray 


you?     Not  I.     AuJ  iTO  otie  but  us  two  are  in   the  secret.     \Viio,  theu 
bKould  tell  the  Emperor  that  you  were  hidden  behind  the  door  whijp.  he 
dictated  his  dispatches,  and   that  you  are  .such  a  skilful   imitator?     1 
swear  that  Giinlber  him&;elf  would  have  been  staggered  had  he  seen  tho?<^ 
letters  !     They  are  capital,  and  1  congralnlate  you.     You  are  a  genius."' 

"  Great  (rod  !  must  you  annoy  me  with  repetition  of  all  that  1  did?" 
cried  xho.  Secretary  with  asperity.  "  Is  it  not  enou^^h  that  1  am  already 
wretchfd,  as  1  look  back  to  the  terrible  scenes  oi'  the  nn)rnin<^?  1  caii- 
not  bani.sh  the  imape  of  that  iuahai)py  ^i^"ither  from  mv  mind,  i  felt  at 
one  time  as  if  I  must  confess  and  save  hiui." 

"  Ha  ha,  did  yon  ?  Then  it  was  terrible,  was  it?  He  thundered  like 
another  Rhadamanihus,  did  he,  that  sapient  Emperor?  And  forced 
poor,  innocent  Gunther  to  drink  of  the  chalice  we  had  prepared  for  him  ? 
Oh,  rare,  far-seeing  judge  ! — Tell  me  all  about  it,  Warkenhold." 

Warkeiihold  shuddering,  repeated  what  had  taken  place.  When  he 
spitke  of  the  tpiestion  relating  to  the  thousand  ducats,  Eskeles  Flies  in- 
terrupted him. 

'•And  of  course  he  had  to  say  yes.  Gunther  is  of  knightly  veracit\' 
and  1  invented  the  story  of  the  legacy,  in  anticipation  oft^at  question. 
Oh,  how  admirably  my  calculations  have  been  made  !  Let  me  hear 
the  rest.'' 

Warkenhold  went  on,  and  when  he  had  concluded  his  woeful  narra- 
tive, the  banker  nodded  and  said  : 

"  You  are  a  genius.  Yon  relate  as  well  as  you  eves-drop  and  for^e ! 
Upon  my  word,  you  have  entertained  as  well  as  you  have  served,  me  ! 
My  success  in  this  aftair  is  entirely  owing  to  you.  You  are  as  skilful 
as  your  great  Christian  ancestor  Judas  ;  but  as  I  hope  you  are  not  such 
a  fool  as  to  go  out  and  hang  yourself,  hero  are  fifty  ducats  above  our 
bargain.     They  are  for  your  mistress." 

He  drew  out  his  purse  and  counted  the  gold. 

"  I  thank  you,"  said  Warkenhold  almost  inaudibly.  "  J  must  take 
the  money,  for  I  am  sorely  pressed,  but  i  would  give" my  right  hand  not 
to  have  been  foi-ced  to  do  this  thing!" 

"  Pray  say  the  left — your  right  hand  is  a  treasure  not  lightly  to  be 
.parted  with,"  said  the  banker  laughing.  "But  a  truce  to  sentiment.  It 
is  useless  for  you  to  drape  yourself  in  the  toga  of  honor  or  benevolence. 
Our  business  is  at  an  end.     You  have  nothing  more  to  claim,  1  believe?" 

"  Nothing  whatever,  I  am " 

"Then,"  said  the  banker,  taking  up  his  hat,  "we  have  nothing  further 
to  say  to  one  another.  You  have  been  the  instrument  of  my  righteous 
vengeance,  but  as  1  have  an  antipathy  to  villains,  let  me  never" see  so 
much  as  a  glance  of  recognition  from  you  again.  From  this  hour  wo 
are  strangers  !     Adieu  !" 


Kl'^-l    1  tit.    Slii  tJ.Vl'J. 


CHAPTER  XXV  U. 

THK  DEPUXATIOX  TROM  IIUXGAKr. 

Is  the  great  reception-room  of  the  iraperial^alace,  a  deputation  of  the 
most  illuscrious  magnates  of  Hunjiary  awaited  an  interview  with  the 
Emperor.  For  one  whole  year  tlie  Hungarian  nobles  had  withdrawn 
Irom  court;  but  now,  in  the  iuteiebt  of  their  fatherland,  they  stood  once 
more  within  the  walls  of  the  palace  ;  and  in  their  magnificent  state-uni- 
forms, as  the  representatives  of  all  Hungary,  they  were  assembled  to 
<iemand  redress  for  their  national  grievances. 

When  the  Emperor  entered  the  leception-room,  he  came  alone,  in  a 
plain  uniform.  He  greeted  the  deputies  with  a  smile,  which  they  re- 
turned by  profound  and  silent  inclinations  of  their  aristocratic  heads. 
Joseph  looked  slowly  around  at  the  brilliant  assemblage  of  magnates 
before  him. 

"  A  stately  deputation  of  my  loyal  Hungarians,"  observed  he.  "  I 
see  all  the  proudest  families  of  the  kingdom  represented  here  to-day. 
Count  Palfy,  for  example,  the  son  of  him  whom  the  Empress  was  accus- 
tomed to  call  her  champion  and  father — Count  Batthiany,  the  heir  of  my 
favorite  tutor.  I  rejoice  to  see  you,  and  hope  that  you  are  here  today 
to  grpet  me  as  ever,  in  the  character  of  loyal  subjects."  «. 

There  was  a  short  pause,  after  which,  Count  Palfy,  stepping  a  little 
in  advance  of  the  others,  addressed  the  Emperor. 

"  Sire,  sve  are  sent  by  the  kingdom  of  Hungary  to  lay  our  wrongs 
before  your  Majesty,  and  request  redress." 

"  Does  the  Count  represent  your  sentiments  1"  asked  the  Emperor, 
addressing  the  delegates.  A  unanimous  affirmative  was  the  reply,  and 
Joseph  then  continued  ;  "Speak  on.  1  will  hear  your  complaints  and 
reply  to  them." 

Count  Palfy  bowed  and  resumed  :  "  We  have  come  to  remind  your 
Majesty  that  when,  ^n  November  1780,  you  ascended  the  throne  of  Aus- 
tria, we  received  a  written  declaration  from  your  imperial  hand,  guaran- 
teeing our  rights  under  the  National  Constitution  of  Hungary.  Never- 
theless, these  rights  have  been  invaded,  and  we  come  before  your  Ma- 
jesty's throne  in  the  hope  that  our  just  remonstrances  may  not  appear 
oifensive  in  the  eyes  of  our  King."* 

"  But  what  if  they  do  appear  offensive  ?"  crjed  the  Emperor,  chafed. 
"  What  if  I  should  refuse  to  hear  those  complaints  which  are  nothing  but 
the  fermentation  of  your  own  pride  and  arrogance?" 

"If  your  Majesty  refuse  to  hear  us  to-day,"  said  Count  Palfy,  with 
*The«e  lire  the  ■*vt>rd8  of  Uie  Hungarian  protest.    See  Hubner  2,  p.  265. 


i»IPKKOR    ,.F   AUSTRIA.  1  Or> 

llrmness,  '■  we  shall  reLuro  to-morrow,  and  every  day,  for  we  have  sworn 
to  present  the  grievances  of  the  States  to  your  notice  and  must  keep 
our  oath." 

"  I  ani  quite  as  well  acquainte«[  with  the  grievances  as  you,  nnd  to 
prove  it  to  you,  I  will  stnttj  ihern  myseif.  First,  you  :ire  apgri(>ved  be- 
cause I  have  Hot  gone  to  Hungary  to  be  crowned  and  to  take  the  con- 
stitutional oath." 

"  Yes,  sire,  we  are  ;  and  this  grievance  leads  us  to  the  second  one. — 
AVo  venture  to  ask  if,  secretly  and  witlioiit  the  consent  of  the  States,  the 
crown  of  St.  Stephen  has  been  removed  to  Vienna." 

"les,  it  has  been  removed,"  cried  Joseph  with  increasing  irriiation. 
"  It  has  been  brought  to  me  to  whom  it  belongs;  but  I  shall  return  it 
to  Ofen,  when  the  structure  which  is  to  receive  it  is  completed  " 

"  That  is  an  unconstitutional  act,"  said  Count  Palfy.  ''  Is  it  not,  my 
friends  1" 

"  It  is,"  cried  a  chorus  of  Magyars. 

"  I  have  never  taken  the  oath  to  the  constitution,"  was  JosephPs  reply. 
"  Hungary  would  h;ive  to  undergo  signal  changes  before  1  ever  go  there 
to  be  crowned  as  your  king.  You  are  not  content  with  reigning  over 
your  vassals;  you  desire  in  your  ambitious  presumption  to  reign  over 
me. also.  But  I  tell  you  that  I  am  no  royal  puppet  in  the  hands  of  a 
Tiepublic  of  aristocrats — I  am  lord  and  king  of  all  my  provinces.  Hun- 
gary has  no  claim  to  a  separate  nationality,  and  once  tor  all,  I  shall  no 
more  take  the  coronation-oath  there  than  I  shall  do  it  in  Tyrol,  Bohemia, 
Galicia,  or  Lombardy.  All  your  crown^  are  fused  into  the  imperial 
crown  of  Austria,  and  it  is  proper  that  I,  who  own  them  all,  should  pre- 
serve them  with  my  regalia  at  Vienna.  x\]l  strife  and  jealousy  between 
the  provinces  composing  my  empire  must  cease.*  Provincial  interests 
must  disappear  before  national  exigencies.  This  is  all  that  I  have  to  say 
to  the  States  ;  but  I  will  say  to  yourselves  that  when  I  find  myself  ab- 
solute Lord  of  Hungary,  as  well  as  of  Austria,  1  will  go  thither  to  be 
crowned.  And  now,  Lord  Chancellor  of  Hungary,  what  other  grievance 
have  to  you  present  1" 

"Our  second  grievance,  sire,  is,  that  to  the  great  humiliation  of  all 
Hungary,  our  native  tongue,  and  the  Latin  language  have  been  superced- 
ed by  the  German.  This,  too,  is  unconstitutional,  for  it  has  shut  out  all 
Hungarians,  in  a  measure,  from  public  office,  and  has  placed  the  admin- 
istration of  our  laws  in  the  hands  of  Austrian?,  perfectly  ignorant  of  our 
constitution. "I 

"To  this  I  have  to  say  that  German  shall  be  the  language  of  all  my 
subjects.  Why  should  tjou  enjoy  the  privilege  of  a  national  language? 
1  am  Emperor  of  Germany,  and  my  tongue  shall  be  that  of  my  provin- 
ces. If  Hunj^ary  were  the  most  important  portion  of  the  Empire,  its 
language  doubtless  would  be  Hungarian  ;  but  it  is  not,  and  therefore 
shall  you  speak  German. J     I  will  now  pass  on  to  your  third  gr-evance, 


•  Thp  Emperor's  own  words  Letfew  of  Josoph  Second. 
tXha  word*  of  th«  Hungarian  prot<>gt.  Ilubner  2,  P.  266. 
t  Tbe  Emppror  own  words.    See  Letter  of  .loseph  'i'l.  pages  T6. 


iOO  JOaKHH   THESKCuMu 

Ibr  you  see  that  I  euii  well  posted  on  the  subject  of  your  sufieriiigs,  I 
have  numbered,  and  taxed  your  property,  and  that,  too,  in  spite  of  your 
constitution  which  exempts  you. from  taxatittn.  In  my  opinion,  the  pri- 
vileges of  an  aristocracy  do  not  consist  in  evading  their  share  of  the  na- 
tional burthens;  on  tiie  contrary,  they  should  assume  it  vc^luntarily,  and 
for  the  weal  of  the  nation,  place  themselves  on  an  equality  ^shh  the  peo- 
ple— each  class  striving  with  the  other  as  to  who  shall  best  promote  the 
prosperity  of  the  government.*  I  cannot  therefore  exempt  you  from 
paying  taxes." 

"  But,  sire,  this  tax  violates  our  rights,  and  our  constitution,"  replied 
Count  Palfy. 

"  Has  Hungary  a  constitution  1  A  tumultuous  States-diet,  privileged 
aristocracy-^— the  subjection  of  three-fifths  of  the  nation  to  the  remainder 
— is  this  a  constitution'?" 

"  It  is  the  Constitution  of  Hungary,  and  we  have  your  Majesty's  writ- 
ten promise  that  you- would  respect  it.  But  even  had  we  received  no 
solemn  #leclaration  of  the  sort,  upon  the  security  of  our  national  freedom 
depends  the  Austrian  right  of  succession  to  thp  throne  of  Hungary. "j- 

'•  You  dare  to  threaten  me  ?"  cried  Joseph  furiously. 

"  No,  sire,  we  do  not  threaten  ;  we  are  in  presence  of  a  truth-loving 
monarch,  and  we  are  compelled  to  speak  the  unvarnished  truth.  We 
have  already  borne  much  from  your  Majesty's  ancestors.  But  nutilthe 
death  of  Maria  Theresa,  our  fundamental  laws  remained  inviolate.  True, 
in  the  last  years  of  her  life,  she  refused  to  allow  the  States-diet  to  as- 
semble ;  but  she  never  laid  her  hand  upon  our  constitution.  She  was 
crowned  Queen  of  Hungary,  and  took  the  coronation-oath.  Charles  the' 
Sixth,  and  Joseph  the  First  did  likewise.  Each  one  guaranteed  us  the 
right  of  inheritance,  and  our  national  freedom. 

"  There  is  no  such  thing  as  national  freedom  in  Hungary.  It  contains 
nothing  but  lords  and  vassals,  and  it  is  vassalage  that  I  intend  to  abolish." 

"  Does  your  Majesty  think  that  the  general  freedom  of  the  State  is 
promoted  by  your  conscrlption-Iaws  1"  ' 

"  Ah  !  Here,  we  have  grievance  the  fourth,"  exclaimed  Joseph.  "Yes, 
the  conscription  is  a  thorn  in  your  sensitive  sides,  because  it  claims  you 
as  the  children  and  servants  of  your  country,  and  forces  you  to  draw 
your  swords  in  her  defence." 

"  We  have  never  refused  our  blood  to  the  country,"  replied  Count 
Palfy,  proudly  throwing  back  his  head,  "and  if  her  rights  are  intact  to- 
day, it  is  because  we  have  defended  and  protected  them.  We  have 
fought  for  our  Patherland,  however,  ni^t  as  conscripts,  but  as  freemen. 
Our  people  are  unanimous  in  their  abhorence  of  the  conscription  act. 
When  we  weigh  the  motives  and  consequences  of  this  act  we  can  draiw 
but  one  inference  from  either  :  that  we,  who  were  born  freemen,  are  to 
be  reduced  to  slavery,  and  to  be  trampled  under  foot  by  every  other 
province  of  Austria." 

*  Tho  Kmperor's  own  words     See  Letters  "f  .lospph  2().  pacffl  95, 
tTlit"  wrirAe  of  the  TluDET.irian  prot.'^t     Hiitviicr  'J   1'.  WX 


"  Rather  thau  submit  t(j  such  indignity  we  will  lay  down  our  Uvea", 
for  we  are  of  one  mind,  and  would  sponer  die  than  lose  our  liberty  !" 

*'  And  1,"  cried  Joseph,  hla  e)es  (lashing  and  his  face  scarlet  with  pas- 
sion, "  I  say  to  you  all  that  you  shall  live,  for  I,  your  king  and  master, 
ccynmand  you  to  do  so." 

An  .ingry  murmur  was  heard,  and  cvei'y  eye  looked  defiance  at  the 
Emperor.  "Ah,"  said  he,  scornfully,  "  you  would  ape  the  Polish  diet, 
and  dispute  the  will  of  your  King  !  You  remember  how  the  King  of 
Poland  succumbed  to  dictation  !  I  am  another  and  a  dillorent  man,  and 
I  cure  neither  for  your  approbation  nor  for  your  blanne.  It  is  my  pur- 
pose to  make  Hungary  prosperous,  and  therefore  I  have  abolished  the 
feudal  system  which  is  unfavorable  to  the  development  of  the  resources 
of  the  country.  You  Magyars  would  interfere  with  mc.  ,  You  have  n 
constitution  at  variance  with  my  laws,  and  for  the  sake  of  apiece  of  rot- 
ten parchment  three  hundred  years  old,  Hungary  must  be  suffered  to 
remainsjncivilized  forever !  Away  with  your  mediaval  privileges  and 
rasty  escutcheons  !  A  new  century  has  dawned,  and  not  only  the  noblv 
born  shall  see  its  light,  but  the  people  who  until  now  have  been  thrust 
aside  by  your  arrogance!  If  enlightenment  violates  your  ancient  privi- 
leges, they  shall  be  swept  away  to  give  place  to  the  victorious  rights  of 
man!  And  this  is  my  answer  to  ;ill  your  grievances.  Go  home,  ye 
Magyars,  assemble  your  peers,  and  tell  them  that  my  decision  is  unal- 
terable, and  that  w  hat  I  have  done  with  deliberation,  I  shall  never  revoke. 
Go  home  and  tell  them  that  the  Empeior  haa  spoken,  and  they  have 
nothing  to  do  but  to  submit ! ' 

With  a  slight  inclination,  Joseph  turned  his  back;  and  before  the 
magnates  had  time  to  recover  themselves  and  to  reply  to  this  haughty, 
harangue,  the  Emperor  had  disappeared  and  closed  the  door. 

They  glanced  at  one  another  in  speechless  indignation.  They  had  ex- 
pected difficulty  ;  but  such  insulting  rejection  of  their  petition,  they 
could  never  have  anticipated.  They  remembered  the  d'ay  when  with  this 
same  Joseph  in  her  arms,  Maria  Theresa  had  appealed  to  their  fathers 
for  succor  ;  they  remembered,  too,  how  in  the  enthusiasm  of  their  loy- 
alty they  had  sworn  to  die  for  Maria  Theresa,  their  King  ! 

"  Ho  never  revokes  !"  muttered  Paify' after  a  long  silence.  ''You 
heard  him,  Magyars,  he  never  revokes  ! — Shall  we  suffer  him  to  op- 
press us  *?" 

"  No,  no  !"  was  the  unanimous  reply. 

"So  be  it,"  said  Palfy  solemnly.  "  He  has  thrown  down  the  gaunt- 
let; we  raise  it,  and  strip  for  the  fight. — But  for  Hungary,  this  man 
had  been  ruined.  To-day  he  would  ruin  us,  and  we  cast  him  off.  Hence- 
forth our  cry  is, 

"  Moriamur  pro  rege  nostro  Constitutione .'" 

"  Moriamur  pro  rege  nostro  Oonstliudone  P'  echoed  the  Magyars,  eve- 
ry man  with  his  right  hand  raised  to  heaven. 


iU5  jwdt'Pti   lut;  sEruM* 


CHAPTER.  XXVIH. 

THE  RECOMPENSE. 

For  fcmr  weeks,  Rachel  had  been  a  prisoner  in  her  own  house,  al!  per- 
sons, with  the  exception  of  a  Catholic  Priest  and  a  Jewish  Rabbi,  hav- 
ing been  refused  accest*  to  her.  But  at  the  expiration  of  this  time  a  de- 
puty from  the  imperial  chancBry  was  admitted,  who  had  a  long  inter- 
view with  the  poor  girl,  and  at  dusk  another  visitor  presented  himself 
at  the  door  of  that  gloomy  abode.  This  last  one  was  Baron  Eskeles 
Flies. 

the  Sentinels  had  allowed  him  to  pass,  and  the  guards  in  Rach6]% 
ante-room  gave  way  also,  for  the.  Baron's  permit  to  visit  his  daughter 
was  from  the  Emperor.  With  a  respectful  inclination,  they  presented 
the  key  of  the  prisoner's  room  and  awaited  her  father's  orders.  / 

"  Go  below,  and  wait  until  I  call  you,"  said  he. 

'•  Of  course,  as  we  are  commanded  in  the  permit  to  obey  you,  we  fol- 
low the  Emperor's  order." 

Herr  Eskeles  thanked  them,  and  putting  a  ducat  in  the  hand  of  each, 
the  men  departed  in  a  state  of  supreme  satisfiiction.  They  had  scarcely- 
left,  when  the  banker  bolted  the  door  from  the  inside,  and  crossed  the 
room  towards  the  opposite  door.  His  hand  trembled  so  that  he  could 
not  introduce  the  key  to  open  it,  and  he  was  obliged  to  retreat  to  the 
sofa,  and  there  recover  himself 

"  How  will  she  receive  meV  thought  he.  "They  say  that  she  is  sad- 
ly changed,  and  that  her  father  would  scarcely  know  his  beautiful  child 
again"  Oh,  ray  child,  will  I  be  able  to  bear  the  sight  of  j'our  grief  with- 
out falling  at  your  feet,  and  acknowledging  my  guilt?  But  pshaw! — 
She  is  safe  now  I  shall  take  her  home,  and  for  every  tear  that  she  has 
shed  I  will  give  her  a  diamond  bright  as  a  star.  She  shall  have  gold, 
pearls,  riches — and  be  once  more  the  envy  of  all  the  women  in  Vienna. 
Yes,  my  Rachel,  yes — Gold,  diamonds  and  happiness  ! 

He  turned  the  key,  and  the  door  opened.  Not  a  sound  greeted  his 
entianee  into  that  dismal  room,  whereii)  four  funereal-looking  wax-lights 
were  burning  at  each  corner  of  a  square  table.  Even  so  had  the  lights 
burned  in  the  room  where  Rachel's  mother  once  lay  dead.  The  banker 
thought  of  this  as  between  those  flarijig  lights  he  saw  the  pale  wan  fig- 
ure, on  the  sofa  that  seemed  as  rigid,  ^s  motionless,  and  as  white  as  a 
corpse. 

Was  it  indeed  Rachel !  Those  pinched  features,  those  hollow  eyes, 
that  figure  so  bowed  with  sorrow,  could  that  be  his  peerless  daughter  ! 
What  had  diamonds  and  pearls  in  common  with  that  pale  spectre  1 


KMFliKOlt   Ot   AU81R1,V,  iQH 

iTie  banker  could  scarcely  f=upprei=:s  u  cry  of  anguish  as  he  gazed  upon 
the  wreck  of  so  much  beaut).  But  he  giiiheied  courage  to  cross  the 
room,  and  stood  before  her. 

"Rachel,"  said  he  in  a  soft,  imploring  voice,  "do  you  know  me  1" 

"  I  kiii»\v  you,"  replied  she  without  moving,  "do  you  know  nieV^ 
,"  My  beloved  child,  my  heart  rpcoguizes  yi>u,  and  calls  )  uu   to  itself. 
Come,  darling  come,  and  rest  within  your  father's  protecting  arms.     See, 
They  are  open  to  receive  you — I  have. forgiven  all,  and  am  ready  to  de- 
vote my  whole  life  to  your  happiness  !" 

He  opened  his  arms,  but  Rachel  did  not  ?tir.  She  looked  at  him,  ancl 
when  he  saw  the  look,  his  hands  dropped  nerveless  to  his  sid£. 

*'  Where  is  Giinlher  ?"  asked  she.     "  What  have  you  done  with  him  ?" 

"  I,  my  child  ?"  exclaimed  Eskeles.  "  The  Emperor  has  detected  him 
in  some  dishonorable  act,  (I  know  not  what,.)  and  has  sent  him  as  a  re- 
cruit to  Hungary." 

"  I  have  heard  this  fable  before,"  said  Rachel,  with  a  glance  of  scorn. 
"The  priest  who  was  sent  to  convert,  has  tried  to  console  me  for  my 
loss  by  dinning  in  my  ears  that  Giinther  was  a  traitor;  but  I  know  bet- 
ter. H*  is  the  victim  of  a  Jew's  revenge.  It  is  you  who  have  accused 
him  with  false  witnesses,  false  letters,  with  all  that  vengeance  can  in- 
spire, and  wicked  gold  can  buy.  You  are  the  accuser  of  mv  noble  Giin- 
ther !"  By  this  time  she  had  arisen,  and  now  she  stood  confrontiMg  him, 
with  her  wasted  finger  pointing  towards  him,  and  her  sunken  eyes  glow- 
ing like  lights  from  a  dark,  deep  cave. 

"  Who  says  sol     Who  has  dared  to  accuse  me  ?"  said  her  father. 

"  Your  face  accuses  you  !  Your  eyes,  that  dare  not  encounter  mine  ! 
Nay — do  not  raise  your  hand  in  sacrilegious  pfotest,  but  answer  me. 
By  the  faith  of  your  ancestors  are  you  not  the  man  who  denounced  him?" 
«  He  could  not  meet  her  scrutinizing  glance.  He  averted  his  face, 
murmuring.  "He  who  accused  liini  is  no  better  tjian  himself.  But  it 
is  the  Emperor  who  condemned  him." 

"The  Emperor  is  miserably  befooled,"  cried  Rachel.  "  He  knows 
not  the  subtlety  of  Jewish  revenge.  But  1  am  of  the  Jewish  race,  and 
I  know  it.     1  know  my  father,  and  1  know  ray  lover !" 

'•  In  this  hour  of  reunion  we  will  not  discuss  the  innocence,  or  guilt  of 
the  Emperor's  Secretary,"  said  the  banker  ge»itly.  "  I  am  thankful  that 
the  dark  clqui  which  has  hidden  you  so  long  from  my  sight  is  lifted,  and 
that  all  is  well  with  us  again." 

"All  is  not  well — for  between  us  lies  the  grave  of  my  happiness,  and 
that  grave  has  sunde/ed  us  forever.  I  cannot  come  to  you,  my  father — 
the  memory  of  my  lover  is  between  usJ,  and  that  memory — Oh,  do  not 
call  it  a  cloud ! — 'Tis  the  golden  beam  of  that  sun  which  has  set,  but 
whose  rays  are  still  warm  within  my  breaking  heart.  I  say  nothing  to 
you  of  all  that  I  have  endured  during  these  four  weeks  of  anguish ;  but 
this  I  can  tell  you,  my  father,  that  1  have  never  repented  ipy  choice. — 
I  am  Giinther's  for  life,  and  for  death  which  is  the  birth  of  immortality  !" 

"  He  is  a  dishonored  man  !"  said  Eskelcs  frowninf». 


110  JOSkJ'U    I  HE  SECtiNl). 

'•  And  !,  too,  vijl  be  dislionorod  to-aiorrow,"  replied  Rachel. 

Her  iather  started.  He  had  forgotten  the  disgrace  which  threatened 
her. 

"  Rachel,"  said  he  with  exceeding  tenderness,  "  I  come  to  rescue  you 
from  shame,  and  salTering."  • 

'■  To  jescuc  me  ?"  echoed  she.      "  Whither  would  yoa  have  me  ily^" 

"  To  the  house  of  your  father,  my  child." 

"1  have  no  father,"  replied  she,  with  a  weary  sigh.  "My  father- 
n-onld  have  forced  my  heart,  as  the  priest  and.  the  rabbi  would  have  for- 
ced my  belief.  But  I  am  free  in  my  faith,  my  love  and  my  hate;  and 
this  freedom  will  sustain  me  to-morrow  throughout  the  torture  and  shame 
of  a  disgraceful  punishment." 

"  You  surely  will  not  brave  the  lash  I"  cried  her  father,  his  cheeks 
blanched  with  horror  at  the  thought.  "You  will  be  womanly,  my  child, 
and  recant." 

"  I  mu^it  epeak  the  truth,"  said  she,  interrupting  him.  "The  doors 
of  the  S}  iiagogue  as  well  as  those  of  the  Church  are  closed  against  me. 
1  am  no  Jewess,  and  you  forced  me  to  swear  that  I  would  never  become 
a  Christian.  But  what  matters  it?"  continued  she,  kindling  whh  enthu- 
siasm, "]  believe  in  God — the  God  of  love  and  mercy,  and  to-morrow  I 
shall  see  His  face  !" 

'•  You  would  destroy  yourself?"  cried  her  flither,  his  senses  almost  for- 
-saking  him. 

"No — but  do  you  suppose  that  I  shall  survive  the  severity  and  the 
humiliation  of  the  lash  which  it  is  the  pleasure  of  the  Emperor  to  inflict 
upon  me?  No,  my  flither,  I  shall  die  before  the  executioner  has  time 
to  strike  his  second  blow  !" 

"  Rachel,  my  Rachel,  do  not  speak  such  dreadful  words,"  cried  Eske- 
les,  wringing  his  hands  in  despair.  "You  cannot  be  a  Christian,  I  kno*?' 
it,  for  their  belief  is  unworthy  of  a  pure  soul.  How  could  you  ever  give 
the  hand  of  fellowship  to  a  race  who  have  outlawed  you  because  you 
scorn  to  utter  a  falsehood  !  Bat  confess  yourself  a  Jewess,  and  all  will 
be  well  with  us  once  more." 

"  1  shall  never  return  to  the  Jewish  God  of  wrath  and  revenge!  My 
God  is  all  love.  1  must  acknowledge  Him  before  the  world,  and  die 
for  his  sake !" 

There  was  a  pause,  Rachel  was  calm  and  resolute,  hep^ather,  almost 
distracted.     After  a  time  he  spoke  again. 

"So  be  it  then,"  cried  he,  raising  his  hand  to  heaven*  "  Be  a  Chris- 
tian—  I  absolve  you  from  your  oath  ;  and  O  my  Rachel !  if  I  sought  the 
world  for  a  proof  of  my  over  weening  love,  it  could  offer  nothing  to 
compare  with  this  sacrifice.     Go,  my  child,  and  become  a  Christian." 

She  shook  her  head.  "  The  Christian's  cruelty  has  cured  me  of  my 
love  lor  Christianity.  I  can  never- be  one  of  a  race  who  have  persecu- 
ted my  innocent  lover.  As  for  you,  the  cause  of  his  martyrdom,  hear 
•/ny  determination,  and  know  that  it  is  inflexible — I  am  resolved  to  en- 
dure the  punishment;  and  when  the  blood  streams  from  my  back,  and 


tMI'EKOR  OI."    AISIRM.  i  I  I 

iny  frantic  erics  pierce  the  air  until  they  reach  your  palace-walls  ;  when 
in  the  midst  of  the  gapin^r  populace,  my  body  lies  stretched  upun  the  mar- 
ketplace, dishonored  l\y  the  hand  of  the  executioner — ihoii  &h;ill  your  re- 
venge have  returned  lo  yon  ;  for  the  whole  world  wjll  poinl  al  you  as 
you  pass  and  say,  'He  is  the  father  of  the  woman  who  was  whipped  to 
death  l)y  the  hangman  !' "' 

"  Alas,"'  sohbcd  the  father,  "1  see  that  you  hate  me,  and  yd  I  must 
rescue  you,  even  against  your  own  will.  The  Emperor  has  given  me  a 
patis  to  Paris.  It  is  himself  who  allows  me  to  escape  with  my  poor, 
)Misguided  child.  C.ome,  dear  Rachel,  come,  ere  it  be  too  late,  and  in 
JParis  we  can  forget  our  sorrows  and  begin  life  anew!" 

"No — he  has  made  the  law,  and  he  must  bear  the  consequences  of 
his  own  cruelty.  He  need  noli  think  to  rescue  himself  from  the  odium 
of  his  acts  by  conniving  at  my  escape  !  I  hate  that  Emperor,  the  op- 
pressor of  my  beloved  ;  and  as  he  dishonored  Gunther,  so  shall  he  dis- 
honor me.     Our  woes  will  cry  to  heaven  for  vengeance  and " 

But  Rachel  suddenly  ceased,  and  fell  back  upon  a  chair.  She  had  no 
longer  the  strencth  to  repulse  her  liither,  as  ho  raised  her  iu  his  arms 
and  laid  her  upon  the  sofa.  He  looked  into! her  marble  face,  and  put 
his  lips  to  hers. 

"She  has  swooned," 'cried  he  in  despair.  "We  must  fly  at  once. 
Kachel,  Rachel,  awake  !     The  time  is  almost  up — come,  we  must  away  !" 

She  opened  her  eyes,  and  looked  around.  "  Come,  my  daughter," 
said  her  father,  kissing  her  w.isted  hands. 

She  said  nothing,  but  stared  and  smiled  a  vacant  smile.  Again  he 
took  her  hands,  and  saw  that  they  were  hot  and  dry.  Her  breath,  too, 
was  hot,  and  yet  her  pulse  was  feeble  and  fitful. 

Her  father,  in  his  agony,  dropped  ou  his  knees  beside  the  unconscious 
girl.  But  this  was  no  time  for  waiting.  He  rose  to  his  feet  again,  and 
darting  from  the  room,  offered  a  handful  of  gold  to  the  sentry  if  he 
would  but  seek  a  physician.  Then  he  rettirned  to  Rachel.  She  lay  still 
with  her  eye*  wide,  wide  open,  while  shte  murmured  inaudible  words, 
which  he  vainly  strove  to  understand. 

At  length  came  the  physician.  He  bent  over  the  patient,  examined 
her  pulse,  felt  her  forehead,  and  then  turning  to  the  banker,  who  stood 
by  with  his  heart  throbbing  as  \i  it  would  burst, 

"Are  you  a  relative  of  the  lady  ?"  asked  he.  • 

"  1  am  her  father,"  replied  Eskeles,  and  even  in  this  terrible  hour,  he 
felt  a  thrill  of  joy  as  he  spoke  the  words. 

^  I  regiret  then  to  say  to  you  that  she  is  very  ill.  Her  malady  is  ty- 
phoid fever,  in  its  most  dangerous  form.  I  fear  that  she  will  not  recov- 
cr ;  she  must  have  been  ill  for  some  weeks,  and  have  concealed  her  ill- 
ness.    Has  she  suffered  mentally  of  late  V 

"  Yes,  I  believe  that  she  has,"*  faltefed  the  banker.     "  Will  she  die  ?  ' 

"  I  am  afraid  to  give  you  any  hope, — the  disease  has  gone  so  far.  It 
is  strange — Was  there  no  relative  near  her.  to  see  how  ill  she  has  been 
for  so  long  a  time?" 


ir^  J05KPM  THE  SECU>I). 

Gracious  heaven  !  What  torture  he  inflicted  upon  the  guilty  father! 
At  tliat  monnent  he  would  have  recalled  Giinther  and  welcomed  him  as 
a  son,  could  his  presence  have  saved  the  child  whom,  himself  had  mur- 
dered ! 

"  Doctor,"  said  he  in  husky  trembling  tones,  "Doctor,  you  must  save 
my  child.  Ask  what  you  will — I  am  rich,  and  if  you  restore  her  to  me, 
you  shall  have  a  million  !" 

"  Unhappily,  life  cannot  be  bought  with  gold,"  replied  the  physician. 
"  God  alone  can  restore  her.  We  can  do  naught  but  assist  nature,  and 
alleviate  her  sufferingri." 

''  How  can  we  alleviate  her  suffering'?"  asked  Eskeles  humbly,  for  his 
spirit  was  broken. 

"  By  cool  drinks,  and  cold  compressions  upon  her  head,"  said  the  phj- 
sician.     "  Are  there  no  women  here  to  serve  her  V 

"No,"  murmured  the  banker.  "  My  daughter  is  a  prisoner.  She  is 
Rachel  Eskeles  Flies." 

"  Ah  !  The  Deist  who  was  to  have  suffered  to  morrow  ?  Poor,  poor 
child,  neither  Church  nor  Synagogue  can  avail  her  now,  for  God  will 
take  her  to  himself" 

"  But  there  is  a  possibility  of  saving  her,  is  there  noti"  asked  the  fa- 
ther imploringly.       "  We  must   try   everything,  for she  must  be 

saved  !" 

'■'■Must?"'  repeated  the  physician.  "Think  you  because  you  are  rich 
that  you  can  bribe  Heaven  ?  See,  rather,  how  impotent  your  wealth 
has  been  to  make  your  beautiful  child  happy,  (for  I  know  her  story,) 
and  now  iti  spite  of  all  the  gold  for  which  you  have  sacrificed  her,  she 
will  die  of  a  broken  heart!" 

Just  then  Rachel  uttered  a  loud  shriek,  and  clasping  both  her  hands 
around  her  head,  cried  out  that  her  brain  was  on  fire, 

"  Cold  compressions — quick  " — exclaimed  the  physician  imperatively; 
and  the  banker  staggered  into  Rachel's  dressing  room — the  room  which 
Giiulher  had  so  daintily  fitted  ap — and  brought  water/  and  a  soft  fine 
towel,  which  his  trembling  hands  could  scarcely  bind  upon  his  poor 
child's  head.  Then  as  her  moaning  ceased,  and  her  arms  dropped,  he 
passed  into  an  ecstacy  of  joy,  for  now  he  began  to  hope  that  she  would 
be  spared  to  him. 

,  "  We  must  have  female  attendance  here,"  said  the  physician.  "  She 
must  be  put  to  bed  and  tenderly  watched.  Go,  Baron,  and  bring  your  ser- 
vants. I  will  see  the  Emperor  and  take  upon  myself  the  responsibility 
of  having  infringed  his  orders.  Before  such  imminent  peril,  all  impris- 
onment is  at  an  end." 

"  I  cannot  leave  her,"  returned  the  Baron.  "  You  say  she  has  but 
few  days  to  live  ;  if  so,  I  cannot  spare  one  second  of  her  life.  I  entreat 
of  you,  take  my  carriage  and,  in  mercy,  bring  the  servants  for  me.  O, 
listen  !  she  screams  again — Doctor,  go,  I  entreat !  Here — fresh  com- 
pressions— water !  0,  be  quick  !" 

And  again  the  wretched  man  bent  over  his  child,  and  laid  the  cloths 


EMIKROK  OF  AtbTKl.V.  113 

upon  her  he.vl.  The  physician  bad  gone,  and  he  was  alone  with  his 
treasure.  lie  felt  it  a  relief  to  be  able  to  kiss  her  hands,  to  weep  aloud, 
to  throw  himself  upon  his  knees  and  pray  to  the  God  of  Israel  to  spare 
his  idol ! 

The  ni^ht  went  by,  the  servants  cauic,  and  the  physioian,  examinin"' 
his  patient  again,  promised  to  return  in  a  few  hours,  liachcl  was  car 
ried  to  her  bed,  and  hour  after  hour,  the  lianker  !?at  patient  and  watch- 
ful, listening  to  every  inoart,  echoing  evfry  sigh  ;  afraid  to  trust  |ys  pre- 
cious charge  to  any  one,  lest  the  vigilance  of  another  might  fail. 

A  day  and  another  night  went  by,  and  still  no  sleep  had  come  over 
those  glaring  eyes.  But  she  wept  bitter  tears,  and  when  he  beard  her 
broken-mnrmurcd  words  of  anguish,  he  thought  he  would  go  mad  ! 

But  sonictinips  in  her  fevcr-raadiiess  she  smiled  and  was  happy.  Thpn 
.she  laughed  aloud,  and  spoke  to  her  beloved,  who  was  always  at  her 
uide.  »She  had  not  once  pronounced  the  name  of  her  father  ;  she  seem- 
ed to  have  forgotten  him,  remembering  nothing  in  (ill  her  past  life  save 
her  love  for  Giinther. 

Often  her  father  knelt  beside  her,  and  with  tears  streaming  from  his 
eyes,  implored  a  look,  a  word — one  single  word  of  fcwgiveness.  But 
Rachel  laughed  and  sang,  heedless  of  the  despairing  wretch  who  lay 
stricken  to  the  earth  at  her  side  •,  while  the  lover  whom  she  caressed, 
was  tar  away  unconscious  of  the  blessing. 

Suddenly  she  uttered  a  wild  cry,  and  starting  up,  threw  her  arms  con- 
vulsively about.     Now  she  invoked  the  vengeance  of  heaven  upon  Giin 
ther's  murderers,  and  at  last — at  last,  was  heard  the  name  of  her  father ! 
iShc  cursed  him  ! 

With  a  cry  as  piercing  as  that  of'the  poor  maniac,  Eskeles  Flies  sank 
upon  his  knees  and  wept  aloud. 

Rachel  gradually  grew  more  tranquil  ;  and  now  she  lay  back  on 
her  pillow  with  a  happy  smile  once  more  upon  her  lips.  But  she  spoke 
not  a  word.  Once  more  she  sighed  "Giintlier,"  and  then  relapsed  ini,i) 
silence. 

Into  a  silence  that  seemed  so  breathless  and  so  long  that  her  fal/ii<  r 
arose,  frightRUcd,  from  his  knees.  He  bent  over  his  .smiling  child,  and 
her  face  seemed  transfigured.  Not  a  sigh  stirred  her  bosom,  not  a  moan 
fluttered  from  her  lips.  But  that  smile  remained  so  long  unchanged, 
and  her  eyes surely  they  were  glazed ! 

Yes  ! Rachel  was  dead."'- 


•  The  sad  fat«  of  Sunther  and  of  his  beantifol  Rachel  is  mentioned  by  Hormayr  in  hSwork' 
Thc  Emperor  Francis  and  Mcttcrnich.    A  (ragnicnt.    I*.  75. 


}  i4  JoskVii    jhk  SiitOM.' 


CHAPTER  XXiX. 

4» 

TfiK  KEliFtLDON'   IN'   N']i:TUERi,ANl")b. 

Tu£  Emperor  Josepi/  wjis  in  the  Crimea  on  a  visit  to  the  Empress  of 
Russia.  Here  lie  witnessed  ia.  great  triumph  prepared  for  Catharine  by 
Potemkin.  It  was  her. first  jsjreeting  at  Sebastapol,  from  that  navy  which 
was  to  confer  upon  Russia,  the  dominion  pf  the  Black  Sea. 

Potemkin  invited  Catharine  and  Joseph  to  a  dinner  served  in  a  pavilion 
erected  for  the  occasion.  The  festivities  were  interrupted  by  the  clash 
of  military  music;  and  as  the  Russian  Empress  and  the  Austrian  Em- 
peror stepped  out  of  the  pavilion,  the  fleet  arranged  in  line  of  battle,  was 
before  them,  and  greeted  them  with  a  salute  of  a  hundred  guns.  As 
they  ceased,  Potemkiu  turned  to  Catharine,  and  criedoQt  in  tones  of  joy- 
ful enthusiasm  : 

•'  The  voice  of  the  cannon  proclaims  that  the  Black  Sea  has  found  its 
mistress,  and  that  ere  long  the  flag  of  Russia  shall  wave  triumphant  over 
the  towers  t)f  Constantinople.* 

On  another  occasion,  Joseph  was  sailing  around  thebay  of  Sebastopo], 
in  company  with  the  Empress,  Potemkin,  and  the  French  Ambassador. 
As  they  neared  the  fleet,  Potemkiu  pointing  out  the  five  and  twenty  ves- 
sels of  war,  exclaimed, 

"These  ships  await  my  SQvereign''S  word  to  spread  their  sails  to  the 
wind,  and  steer  for  Constantinople."* 

As  Potemkin  spoke,  Catharine's  eyes  were  turned  to  the  south  where 
Stamboul  still  defied  her  rule,  and  ambitious  aspirations  filled  her  heart. 
J(teeph.  however,  looked  down  upon  the  foaming  waters,  and  no  one  saw 
the  curl  of  his  lip,  as  Catharine  and  Potemkin  continued  the  subject,  and 
spoke  of  the  future  Greek  Erij^ire. 

For  Joseph  hiid  lost  all  faith  in  the  brilliant  schemes  with  which 
Catharine  had  dazzled  his  imagination  at  St.  Petersburg. 

The  enthusiasm  with  which  he  had  followed  her  ambitions  vagaries, 
had^ong  since  died  out,  and  he  had  awakened  from  his  dreams  of  great- 
ness. 

All  the  pomp  and  splendor  which  Potemkin  had  conjured  from  the 
ashes  ot  a  conquered  cormtry,  coulfJ  not  deceive  Joseph, 

Behind  the  stately  edifices  which  had  sprung  up  like  the  palaces  of 
Aladdin,  he  saw  the  ruins  of  a  desolated  land  ;  In  the  mid.st  of  the  cheer- 
ing, multitudes,  whom  Potemkin  had  assembled  together  to  do  homage 
to  Catharine,  he  saw  the  grim-visaged  Tartars,  whose  eyes  were  glowiug 
*  See  Conaict  for  tht-  possession  of  ibt  Blaclc  Sea.    Theodore  Murnlt,  pages  268  and  2515. 


with  deadly  halrod  of  her  who  had  either  murdered,  vr  drivt-u  Into  exii« 
fifty  thousatid  of  their  race. 

Nevertheless,  ho  eutered  with  his  usual  grace  and  affability  into  all 
Catharine's  schemes,  for  the  improvement  of  her  new  domains.  Not 
far  from  Scbastopol,  she-proposed  to  lay  the  foundations  of  a  new  city, 
and  the  Emperor  was  invited  to  take  a  part  in  the  ceremonies. 

Amid  th<!  booming  of  cannon,  the  I<»ud  strains  of  martial  music,  and 
the  cheers  of  her  lollowers,  the  Empress  la,id  the  first  stone  of  the  city 
of  Catcrinoslaw,  and  after  her,  the  Emperor  look  up  the  mortar  and 
trowel,  and  laid  the  second  one.  lie  performed  his  part  of  the  drama 
with  becoming;  solemnity  ;  but  about  an  hour  later,  as  he  was  taking  his 
customary  afternoon  walk  with  the  French  Ambassador  Mr.  de  Si<'ur, 
he  laughed  and  said, 

"The  Empress  and  I  have  been  working  magic  today;  for  in  the 
course  of  a  few  minutes  we  have  built  up  an  entire  city.  She  laid  the 
first  stone  of  the  place,  and  1  the  last."* 

But  in -the  very  midst  of  these  festivities,  a  courier  arrived  with  let- 
ters for  the  Emperor  from  Prince  Kaunitz — The  Prince  besought  him 
to  return  at  once;  for  the  discontent  -which  had  existed  from  the  com- 
mencement of  his  reign  in  NctherlanSs,  had  kindled  into  open  rebellion, 
■which  threatened  the  imperial  throne  itself.  Joseph  took  hasty  leave  of 
Catharine,  but  renewed  his  promise  to  sustahi  and  assist  Her,  whenever 
she  put  into  execution  her  designs  against  Turkey. 

On  the  Emperor's  arrival  at  Vienna,  he  found  new  couriers  were  await- 
ing him,  with  still  more  alarming  intelligence.  The  people  were  frantic, 
and  with  the  clergy  at  their  head,  demanded  the  restoration  of  the  "Jb?/- 
atsc  Entree.''' 

"And  all  this,"  cried  the  Emperor,  "  because  I  have  summoned  u 
soap-boiler  to  Vienna  for  trial." 

"  Yes,  your  Majesty,  but  the  Joyeuse  Entree  exacts  that  the  people  of 
Brabant  shall  be  tried  in  their  own  couijtry,"  said  Prince  Kaunitz,  with 
a  shrug.  "  The  Brabantians  know  every  line  of  their  constitution  bv 
heart." 

"  Well,  they  shall  learn  to  know  me  also  by  heart,"  returned  Joseph 
with  irritation.  "  Brabant  is  mine  ;  it  is  but  a  province  of  my  Empire, 
and  the  Brabantians,  like  the  Hungarians,-  are  nothing  but  Austrians. 
The  bishop  of  Frankenberg  is  not  lord  of  Brabant,  and  lam  resolved  to 
enlighten  this  priest-ridden  people  in  spite  of  their  writhings." 

"  But  unhappily  the  priests  in  Begium  and  Brabant,  are  mightier  than 
your  Majesty,"  returned  Kaunitz.  "  The  bishop  of  Frankenberg  is  the 
veritable  Lord  of  Brabant,  for  he  controls  the  minds  and  hearts  of  the 
people  there,  while  your  Mnjesty  can  do  nothing  but  command  their  uu 
gracious  obedience.  It  is  the  bishop  of  Frankenberg  who  prejudiced 
the  people  against  the  imperial  seminaries." 

"1  can  well  believe  that  they  are  distasteful  to  a  bigot,"  cried  Joseph, 

"for  the  theological  course  of  the  priests  who  are  to  be  educated  .there 

•Ma«son.    Mctrmirtf  accretes 3'ir  In  Rueale.  V'.l  I 


IK)  JOSEPH  IHK  SECUNr. 

is  prescribed  by  me.  I  do  not  intend  that  the  children  of  Levi  shall 
monopolize  the  minds  and  hearts  of  my  people  any  longer.*  This 
haughty  Prelate  shall  learn  to  know  that  1  am  his  Emperor,  and  thatthr. 
arm  of  the  Pope  is  powerless  to  shield,  where  1  have  resolved  to  strike." 

"If  your  Majesty  goes  to  work  in  this  fashion,  instead  of  crushing  tho 
iafluenco  of  the  Bishop,  you  may  irretrievably  lose  your  own.  P>elgiun\ 
is  a  dangerous  country.  The  people  cherish  their  abuses  as  constitution- 
al rights,  and  each  man  regards. the  whole  as  his   individual  property." 

"  And  because  I  desire  to  make  them  happy  and  free,  they  cry  out 
against  me  as  an  innovator  who  violates  these  absurd  rights.  O,  my 
friend,  I  feel  sometimes  so  exhausted  by  my  struggles  with  ignorance 
and  selfishness,  that  I  often  think  it  would  be  better  to  leave  the  stupid 
masses  to  their  fate  !" 

"  They  deserve  nothing  better,"  replied  Kaunitz,  with  his  usual  phlegm. 
"  They  are  thankless  children,  whom  he  can  win,  who  feeds  thorn  with 
sugar.  Your  Majesty  perhaps  has  not  sufficiently  conciliated  their  weak- 
ness. You  have  been  too  honest  in  your  opposition  to  their  rt)tten  pri- 
vileges. Had  you  undermined  the  Joycitse  Entree  by  degrees,  it  would 
have  fallen  of  itself.  But  you  haye  attempted  to  blow  it  up,  and  the 
result  is  that  these  Belgian  children  cry  out  that  the  temple  of  liberty  is 
on  fire,  and  your  Majesty  is  the  incendiary.  Now  had  you  allowed  the 
Soap-boiler  to  be  tried  by  the  laws  of  his  own  land,  the  first  to  condenm 
and  punish  him,  would  have  been  his  own  countrymen:  but  your  course 
of  action  has  transformed  him  into  a  martyr,  and  now  the  Belgians  arc 
mourning  for  him  as  a  jewel  above  all  price !" 

"  I  cannot  make  use  of  artifice,  or  stratagem  ;  with  the  banner  of  Truth 
in  my  hand,  I  march  forward  to  the  battle  of  life." 

"But  with  your  eyes  fixed  upon  that  banner,  you  may  fall  into  the 
precipices  which  your  enemies  have  dug  for  you.  1  have  often  told  your 
Majesty  that  politics  can  never  be  successful  without  stratagem.  Let 
your  standard  be  that  of  Truth  if  you  will,  but  when  the  day  looks  un- 
propitious,  fold  it  up,  that  fools  may  rally  around  It  unawares." 

"  Perhaps  you  are  right,"  sighed  the  Emperor  ;  "  but  all  this  is  very 
sad.  I  have  meant  well  by  my  subjects,  T)ut  they  misinterpret  my  ac- 
tions, and  accuse  me  of  tyranny.  1  go  to  them  with  a  heart  full  of  love, 
and  they  turn  upon  me  as  though  I  were  an  enemy.  But  I  will  not  re- 
lent !  I  must  be  free  to  act  as  seems  best  to  myself.  The  Joyeuse  En- 
tree is  in  my  way.  'Tis  a  Gordian  knot  which  must  be  unloosed  before 
Belgium  can  be  truly  mine — 1  have  no  time  to  untie  it,  it  must  be  cut 
in  twain !" 

Just  then  the  door  of  the  Chancery  opened,  and  one  of  the  Secretaries 
came  forward. 

"Sire,"  said  he,  "a  courier  has  arrived  from  Brussels,  with  dispatches 
from  Count  Belgi-ojoso,  to  his  Highness." 

"  I  had  orderea  ntly  dispatches  to  be  sent  after  me,  your  Majesty,"  said 

•The  "  Joymiso  Ev'rce,''''  was  the  old  Coustilutlon  whicli  Pbilip  the  Good,  on  his  entrance  iulu 
Brusads,  had  vrrautcd  to  the  Belgiaus. 


ivaimil/,  tiiMii",  ilie  juipers,  and  motioning  iho.  Secretary  to  withdraw. 
"  JJues  your  Majcdly  allow  ine  lo  rend  them  V 

"IJy  all  iiieaii-s.  Let  us  hope  th;il  ihoy  Itiiujj;  us  good  news.  I  gave 
strinpoiiL  orders  U»  liei^'iojoso  lo  see  tiiai  my  will  was  Ciirried  oui  in 
Ijel^iuM),  I  badeTiiiii  inform  the  people  that  they  should  Hot  have  their 
prciious  Soap-boiler  back.  Thift  he  was  my  subject,  and  I  intoudcd  to 
have  him  tried  here.  1  told  him  moreovtr  that  like  all  niv  other  sub- 
jects, the  Delijiaiis  luusit  pay  new  taxes  without  expecting  to  be  consult- 
ed as  to  the  expediency  of  the  measure." 

"BelgiojoKo  has  obeyed  your  Majesty's  commands,"  remarked  Kaunitz 
who  had  just  finished  the  first  dispatch.     "  And  the  consefjuence  is  that  ' 
the  good  ])cop!e  of  Brussels  broke  his  windows  for  him." 

"They  Bhall  pay  dear  for  those  wnidows,"  cried  Joseph. 

*'  He  told  theu),  furthermore,  that  in  spite  of  the  eighth  article  of  thoir 
<'onstitution,  they  should  pay  extraordinary  tuxes,  \\  hereupon  thev  an- 
swered him  with  the  fifty-ninth  article." 

"  What  says  the  llfty-ninth  article?" 

'' It  says  that  when  the  sovereign  violates,  in  any  serious  way,  the 
rijihts  guaranteed  by  the  Joijeme  Eiitrie^  the  people  are  released  from  all 
<>Liligalions  towards  him." 

'•  I'hat  is  the  language  of  treason  !'  cri6d  Joseph. 

"  Ami  treason  it  is,"  returned  Kaunitz,   folding  the  second   dispatch. 
"The  people  collected  in   the  streets,  and  the  burghers,  arming  them 
selves,   marched  to  the  palace  of  the  Governor-general  and   de/uanded 
adiiiittance." 

'-•  And  he,  what  did  he  do  ?" 

"  lie  received  them,  sire,"  said  Kaunitz  despondingly. 

"And  what  said  he  to  the  insolent  demands  of  the  rebels? — You  are 
silent,  Kaunitz,  and  1  see  in  your  countenance  that  you  have  bad  news 
for  me.  I  know  my  brother-in-law,  Albert  of  Saxony,  or  rather,  I  know 
my  sister  Christine.  From  her  youth  slie  has  been  my  enemy,  forever 
crossing  me  in  every  purpose  of  my  life  !  Christine  was  sure  to  prompt 
liim  to  something  in  opposition  to  my  wishes  " 

"  It  would  appear  that  you  are  right,  sire,"  replied  Kaunitz.  "The 
burghers  exacted  of  the  Govenor-gcneral  that  they  should  be  reinstated 
in  all  the  rights  of  the  Joyeusc  Entree,  without  exception  whatsoever." 

Their  Joyeus*  Entrie  is  nothing  but  a  mass  of  impertinent  privileges, 
which  Christine  herself  could  not  desire  to  concede,"  cried  .lojcph.  "  I 
nm  curious  then  to  know  how  my  brother-in-law  crept  out  of  the  diffi- 
culty.    What  was  his  answer  ?" 

"  He  asked  time  for  reflection,  sire — twelve  hours.  It.  was  eleven 
o'clock  in  the  morning  when  the  burghers  came  to  him." 

"  Did  they  go  quietly  home  then  ?" 

"  No,  sire.  They  surrounded  the  palace,  their  numbers  continually 
increasing  until  the  place  was  filled  with  armed  men  supported  bv  thou- 
sands of  insurgents,  who  rent  the  air  with  cries  of  '  Give  us  the  Joijciise 
Entree !     The  Joyensc  Entree  forever !' " 


'i   I  J*  ■!•  '-i^i'll     i  H;(.    :;K(.'<)NU. 

'■  Kiiuultz,  the  aioswer  oi  tlie  Eiector  of  Saxony  must  have  betii  a  dis- 
gracel'u!  one,  or  you  woald  not  be  at  such  pains  to  describe  the  clamors 
of  tbo  rebe]liourf  riiultitude.     Tell  rue  at  once  wliat  occurred." 

'•  Sire,  when  the  twelve  houfo  had  expired,  the  burghers  forced  the 
pjdace-doors,  and  two  hundred  armed  men  ru&hed  unannounced  into  the 
presence  of  the  Duke."  ■  ' 

".Wei! — well,"'  cried  Joseph  breathing  heavily. 

"  The  Govenor  was  obliged  to  yif-ld,  and  to  promise  them  that  their 
coiistitution  should  he  reinstated  !" 

The  Emperor  ntt»ned  a  (-ry  of  fur)',  and  grew  pale  vi'ith  rage.  "  He 
reluhiitated  the  Joyevae  Entree!  He  piesunied  to  do  it, !  Did  1  not  tell 
you  that  Christine  was  my  enemy  ! ,  She  it  is  who  has  brought  this  hu- 
miliation upon  me!  She  has  dared  revoke  what  1  had  commanded  ! — 
Oh,  how  those  vulgar  rebels  must  have  laughed,  to  see  that  with  their 
pestiferous  breath  they  had  power  to  blow  away  my  edicts  like  so  nlany 
card-houses!" 

''  Not  at  all,  sire,"  said  KaUnitz  with  composure.  "  There  was  no 
jesting  among,  the  people,  although  they  were  very  happy,  and  passed 
the  nights  in  shouts  of  joy.  Brussels  was  illufnioated,  ;aid  six  huudred 
young  men  drew  the  carriage  of  the  Elector  and  Electress  to  the  theatre 
amid  cries  of  '  Long  live  the  Emperor!  Long  live  the  Joyeuse  Entrte  P  " 

'' Long  live  the  Emperor!"  cried  Joseph  contemptuously.  "  They 
treat  me  as  savages  do  their  wooden  idols.  When  they  are  unpropi- 
tious,  they  beat  them  ;  when  otherwise,  they  set  them  tip  and  adore 
them  again.  Those  over  whom  I  reign,  however,  shall  see  that  1  am  no 
wooden  idol,  but  a  man  and  a  monarch,  who  draws  his  sword  to  avenge 
an  affront  from  whomsoever  received.  Blood  alone  will  extinguish  the 
fire  of  this  rebellion,  and  it  shall  be  quenched  in  the  blood  of  the  rebels. 

"  Many  a  throne  has  been  overturned  by  the  wild  waves  of  human 
blood,"  said  Kaunitz  thoughtfully,  "  and  many  a  well-meaning  prince 
has  been  branded  by  history  as  a  tyrant,  because  he  would  have  forced 
reform  upon  nations  unprepared  to  receive  it.  The  insurgent  states  have 
some  show  of  justice  on  their  side;  and  if  your  Majesty  adopts  severe 
measures  towards  them,  they  will  parade  themselves  before  the  world 
as  martyrs." 

"  And  yet  i  alone  am  the  martyr."  cried  Joseph  bitterly.  "  The  mar-. 
tyr  of  liberty  and  enlightenment.  .  O,  Kaunitz  how  hard  it  is  to  be  for- 
ever misunderstood  !  To  see  those  whom  we  love  led  astray  by  the 
wickedness  of  others  !  1  must  crush  this  rebellion  by  force,  and  yet  the 
real  cririiinals  are  the  clergy." 

"  If  you  think  so,"  said  Kaunitz  shrewdly,  "then  be  lenient  towards 
the  misguided  people.  Perhaps  mildness  may  prevail.  Belgium  is 
united  to  a  man,  and  if  you  enforce  your  will,  you  must  crush  the  entire 
nation.  Such  extreme  measures  must  be  resorted  .to,  only,  when  all 
other  means  shall  have  been  exhausted." 

"  What  other  means  do  you  counsel  ?"  asked  Joseph,  irritated. 
"  Wo'jlcl  you  have  me  treat  with  the  rabble  ?" 


"  No,  sire,  but  treat,  uilii  the  {x^.c-i'lo.  WLcu  an  cJitlre  lirLlIv.uaro  uni 
ted,  they  rise  to  equality  with  their  rulers,  and  it  is  no  condescension 
then  on  the  part  of  the  sovci  oigu  if  he  listen  to  their  grievances  and  tera- 
porise  with  the  aggrieved.  Yua  have  not  yet,  tried  personal  nefiotia- 
tions  with  your  Netherlandcrs,  sire,  ("ii!!  adeputatinn  of  them  lo  \'icn- 
na.  We  shall  thereby  g.iin  time,  the  insurgents  will  giciw  luure  dispa.--- 
sionate,  and  perhaps  we  may  reason  them  into  ac<|uiesoence.  <Mce  <Te!. 
as  far  as  an  armi.siice  with  your  rebels,  aiKl  the  game  is  yours  ;  Tor  in- 
.surgents  are  poor  diplonii;llsts.  Let  ine  fidvise  your  Majesty  to  dissim- 
ulate your  anger,  and  s«^nd  conciliatory  nie«5sages." 

"Well,  well,"  .said  the  Kmperor  with  a  deep  sigh,  "  be  it  so.  I  ^}]| 
do  as  you  like,  but  1  must  f>>rever  and  ever  \ield  my  will  to  that  of  oth- 
ers. Call  a  deputation  of  tho  provinces  and  cite  the  (tovernor-general 
and  hi^^  wife  ;il.-o  to  Vienna.  I  will  investigate  as  a  father,  before  I  con- 
demn as  a  judge.  But  if  this  last  proof  of  my  goodness  should  be  of  no 
avail,  then  I  shall  strike — and  if  blood  flow  in  torrents — upon  their  heads 
and  not  mine  be  the  sin  !"* 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

IHK  IMPERIAL  SriTOK. 

A  half  year  had  parsed  away.  The  deputation  from  Nethei  lands  had 
visited  Vienna,  and  had  been  deeply  impressed  with  the  affiibility  of  the 
Emperor.  They  returned  home,  taking  with  them  his  assurance  that, 
their  time-honored  usages  should  be  respected,  and  that  Joseph  himself 
would  be  the  guardian  of  their  ancient  rights.  He  merelv  desired  to 
fre^  them  from  "  certain  abuses  which  in  the  lapse  of  time  had  crept  in- 
to their  const'Lution."  To  this  end  he  promised  that  an  imncrial  dele- 
gation should  visit  BtussrIs  to  consult  with  ihe  States. 

The  two  Envoys  publicly  sent  by  the  Emperor  were  Count  Von  Traut- 
mannsdorf  and  General  d'Alton.  But  to  these  he  added  a  secret  envov 
in  thp  person  of  Count  Dietrichstein,  the. former  Marshal  f)f  Maria  The- 
resa's household. 

"  1  know  that  my  two  ambassadors  will  .find  a  wise  mentor  in  you, 
Count,"  said  Joseph  as  Dietrichstein  was  taking  leave  of  him.  "  I  thank 
you  for  sacrificing  your  pleasant  home  with  its  associations,  to  ray  in- 
terest; for  no  man,  so  well  as  yon,  can  enlighten  public  opinion  as  t<^ 
my  character  and  intentions."' 

"  Your  Majesty   knows  that  not  only  my  comfort,  but  my  life  are  at 

•  JofppliV,  own  woni*     See  inihr»>r  TI.  ?  ^H. 


1*1)  JoSKT'Il  THK  SECONIJ. 

the  disposal  of  my  Emperor,"  replied  llie  Count.  "  I  deserve  no  credit 
(i)r  this  ;  it  comes  to  me  as  a  proud  inheritance  from  an  ancestry  who 
have  ever  been  the  loyal  subjects  of  the  House  of  Hapsburg." 

"  I  wish  that  I  knew  how  to  testify  my  sense  of  your  loyalty,  and  to 
prove  to  you  that  the  Hapsburgers  have  grateful  hearts,"  exclaimed  the 
Flmperori 

"  Sire,"  said  Count  Dietrichstein  solemnly,  "  it  is  in  your  power  to  do 
f^-o.  If  your  Majesty  really  thinks  that  my  lamily  are  deserving  of  it, 
you  can  confer  upon  us  a  very  great  favor." 

"Speak,  then,"  replied  Joseph  eagerly.  "Speak,  for  your  wish  is  al- 
ready granted.  I  well  know  that  Count  Dietrichstein  can  ask  nothing 
that  I  would  not  accord. !" 

"  I  accept- your  Majesty's  kindness,"  said  Dietrichstein,  in  the  same 
solemn  tone.  "My  request  is  easy  of  fulfillment ;  and  will  give  but  Ut- 
ile trouble  to  my  beloved  Sovereign.  It  concerns  my  daughier  Therese, 
whom  I  shall  leave  behind  in  Vienna." 

"  You  leave  Therese?"  said  Joseph  coloring. 

"  Yes,  your  Majesty.  My  daughter  remains  under  the  protection  of 
her  aunt." 

"  Ah,  Therose  is  to  be  left !"  cried  the  Emperor,  and  an  expression  of 
happiness  flitted  over  his  features. 

Count  Dietrichstein  saw  it,  and  a  cloud  passed  over  his  faCe.  "  f  leave 
her  here,''  continued  he,  '"  because  the  mission  with  which  your  Majesty 
has  entrused  me,  might  possibly  become  dangerous.  Unhappily,  how- 
ever, for  young  girls,  there  is  danger  everywhere  ;  and  for  this  reason,  I 
scarcely  deem  the  protection  of  her  aunt  sufficient." 

While  Count  Dietrichstein  had  been  speaking,  Joseph  had  seemed  un- 
easy ;  and  finally  he  had  walked  to  the  window,  where  he  was  now  look- 
ing out  in  to  the  square.  The  Count  was  annoyed  by  this  proceeding  ;  he 
frowned  and  crossing  the  room,  came  directly  behind  the  Emperor. 

"Sire,"  said  he,  in  a  distinct  voice,  "  I  wish  to  marry  Therese." 

"  With  whom  ?"  asked  Joseph  without  turning. 

"  With  your  Majesty's  lord  of  the  bed-chamber,  Count  Kinsky." 

"  And  Therose  V  asked  Joseph,  without  turning  around.  "  Does  she 
love  the  Count." 

"  No,  sire,  she  has  never  encouraged  him.  She  affects  to  have  a  re- 
pugnance to  marriage,  and  has  continually  urged  me  to  allow  her  to  en- 
ter a  convent.  But  I  will  not  give  my  consent  to  such  a  ridiculous  whim. 
Count  Kinsky  is  a  man  of  honor ;  he  loves  Therose,  and  will  make  her 
happy.  TherCise  is  the  true  daughter  of  any  house,  sire  ;  a  wish  of  your 
Miijesty  to  her  would  be  a  law.  I  therefore  beg  of  you  as  the  greatest 
favor  you  could  testow,  to  urge  her  to  accept  Count  Kinsky." 

The  Emperor  turned  hastilyaround,  and  his  face  was  scarlet.  "How?" 
said  he  in  a  faltering  voice.  "  You  exact  of  me  that  I  should  woo  your 
daughter  for  Count  Kinsky  ?" 

"  It  is  this  favor,  sire,  which  you  have  so  graciously  promised  to  grant." 

The  Emperor  made  no  reply.     He  gazed  at  the  Count  with   gloomy. 


;-:Mfi:i<wi. 


scirchinj:!;  fyc^.  Thp  latler  met  his  glance  wilhf|\iii't  rirmiip'=s.  A  lonj!: 
pause  ensued,  and  the  Emperor's  face  chauijcd  gradually  until  itbccaiutt 
very  pale.     He  sighed  and  seemed  to  awake  from  a  reverie. 

"  Count  Dietrichstein,"  said  he  in  a  trembling  voice,  "  you  have  point- 
ed out  to  me  the  means  of  serving  you.  I  will  do  your  behest,  and  urge 
your  daughter  to  be  the  wife  of  Count  Kinsky." 

"  There  spoke  my  n«>ble  Kmperor !"'  (  ried  the  Count,  deeply  moved, 
while  he  pressed  the  hand  which  had  been  extended  by  Joseph,  to  his  lips. 
"  In  the  name  of  my  ancestors,  1  thank  yriu,  sire." 

"  Do  not  thank  me,  my  friend,"  said  Joseph  sadly.  "  You  have  un- 
derstood me,  and  I,  you, — that  is  all.     When  shall  1  see  your  daughter?" 

"Sire,  I  leave  Vienna  this  evening,  and  1  would  gladly  leave  Thercse 
an  affianced  bride.     The  marriage  can  take  place  on  my  return." 

"  Very  well,"  said  Joseph  with  a  smothered  sigh,  "  I  will  go  at  once. 
Is  the  Countess  in  the  city  ?" 

"  No,  sire,  she  is  at  the  villa  near  Schonbrunn.  But  I  will  send  for 
her,  and  when  she  arrived,  she  shall  have  the  honor  of  an  interview  with 
your  Majesty."        ' 

"  No,  no,"  said  Joseph  hastily  ;  "  let  her  remain  at  the  villa,  and  en- 
joy one  more  day  of  maiden  freedom.  1  myself  will  drive  there  to  see 
her.  1  shall  be  obliged  to  renounce  the  pleasure  of  your  company  thith- 
er, for  I  know  that  you  have  important  business  today  to  transact  with 
Frince  Kaunitz." 

A  distrustful  look  was  the  reply  to  this  proposition.  The  Emperor 
divined  the  cause  and  went  on,  "  But  if  you  cannot  accompany,  you  can 
follow  me  with  Count  Kinsky,  that  is  if  you  really  think  that  1  can  per- 
suade the  Countess  to  accept  him." 

"  I  know  it,  sire.  Therc:se  will  be  as  docile  to  the  wishes  of  your  Ma- 
jesty as  her  father.  As  1  am  ready,  at  your  desire,  to  renounce  the  hap- 
piness of  accompanying  you  to  my  villa,  so  she,  if  you  speak  the  word, 
will  renounce  her  foolish  fancies,  and  consent  to  be  Kinsky's  wife." 

"  We  can  try,"  said  the  Emperor  moodily.  But  he  smiled  as  he  gave 
his  hand  to  Count  Dietrichstein,  who  perfectly  reassured^  went  olFtohis 
alfairs  of  State. 

When  the  Count  had  left  the  room,  the  expression  of  Joseph's  face 
changed  at  once.  With  a  deep  sigh  he  threw  himself  into  an  arm-chair, 
and  tor  some  time  sat  there  motionless  ;  but  when  the  little  French  clock 
on  the  mantle-piece  struck  the  hour,  he  started  up  exclaiming,  "  eleven 
o'clock !  Time  flies,  and  my  word  has  been  given — alas,  it  must  be  re- 
deemed ! — An  Emperor  has  no  right  to  grieve  ;  but  0,|how  hard  it  is, 
sometimes,  to  perform  one's  duty  ! — Wall — it  must  be  : — I  am  pledged 
to  fulfill  the  motto  of  my  escutcheon  :  "  Viriute  el  exemplo.'''' 

A  quarter  of  an  hour  later,  the  Emperor  was  on  his  way  to  the  villa, 
which  was  situated  in  the  midst  of  a  fine  park  not  far  from  the  palace  of 
SchOnbrunn.  Joseph  drove  himself,  accompanied  by  a  jockey,  who  stood 
behind.  The  people  on  the  road  greeted  their  Sovereign  as  he  passed. 
He  returned   the  greeting,  and  no  one  saw  how  pale,  and  wretched  he 


>;>l.i'h     lUJ.    ^Lt'cM' 


K)^jket3,  fur  he,  like  hiis  riolher,  was  fond  of  fast  diiving,  und   to  day  his 
horse  t^ped  lilve  the  wind. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

THE  LAST  PREAM  OF  KOVE. 

TiiERESE  Von  Diefrichstein  v.-as  alone  in  the  little  pavilion  which  her 
fAt.her  had  bnilt  expressly  for  her.  It  consisted  of  .a  parlor  and  a  boii- 
d<ilr.  The  parlor  was  fitted  up  without  magnificence,  biitwi.th  great  ele- 
jrance.  Herein  Therese  was  accustomed  to  receive  her  intinnate  associ- 
ates. But  no  one  ever  entered  the  boudoir  VN'ithout  an  express  invita- 
tion, for  it  was  her  sanctuary  and  studii).  Here  the  Countess  was  trans- 
formed into  an  artist:  there  shp  studied  music  and. painting,  in  both  of 
which  she  excelled.  Her  father,  and  her  very  dear  friends,  knew  c>f  her 
great  proliciency  in  art,  but  her  reputation  went  no  further,  for  Thert'^e 
was  as  bhy  as  a  gazelle,  and  as  anxious  to  conceal  her  talents  as  many 
women  are  to  parade  them.  ^ 

At  her  father's  hotel,  Therese  received  the  distinguished  guests  who 
visited  there,  with  the  stately  courtesy  befitting  ^  high-born  Countess; 
but  in  her  little  pavilion  she  was  the  simple,  and  enthusiastic  child  of 
Art.  Her  boudoir  contained  little  besides  a  harp,  a  harpsichord  and  an 
easel  which  stood  by  the  arched  window  opening  into  a  flower-garden. 
Near  the  easel  was  a  stnall  marble  table  covered  with  palettes,  brushes, 
and  crayons.  When  Therese  retired  to  this  boudoir,  her  rnaid  was  accus- 
tomed to  keep  watch  lest  she  should  be  surprised  by  visitors.  If  any 
were  announced.  Therese  came  out  of  her  boudoir,  and  carefully  closing 
the  door,  awaited  her  friends  in  the  parlor. 

To-day  she  sat  in  this  boudoir,  feeling  so  secure  from  visitors  that  she 
had  raised  the  portiere  leading  to  her  parlor,  and  had  flung  wide  the  case- 
ment" which  opeued  upon  the  park.  The  sweet  summer  air  was  fanning 
her  brow  as  she  sat  at  the  harp,  singing  a  sona  of  her  own  composition. 
She  had  just  concluded  ;  her  little  white  hands  had  glided  from  the  strings 
to  her  lap,  and  her  head  rested  against  the  harp,  above  the  pillar  of 
which  a  golden  eagle  with  outstretched  wings  seemed  to  be  keeping 
watch  over  the  young  girl,  as  though  to  shield  her  from  approaching 
misfortune. 

With  her  head  bent  over  her  harp,  she  sat  musing  until  two  tears 
which  had  long  been  gathering  in  her  eyes,  fell  upon  her  hands.  As  she 
felt  them,  she  raised  her  head.  Her  dark  blue  eyes  were  full  of  sorrow, 
and  her  cheeks  were  glowing  with  blushes. 


What  n<^.t  have  1  U.  w.H.^  over  .  u.;...,  ^^h.  h  is  a.  Air  iVom  mr. 
as  heaven  .«  from  earth  ?"  said  she.     "  [  will  not  repine,  so  iV.n^as  !  am 
f  leo  to  drc-im  of  h,m  wiihoi.L  crime.     But  what  if  J  .hould  h-.s«  that  fi-ee- 
dom ?     What  ^f  my  f^.thcr  should  ^i.h  to  force  me  into  m.<irriaco ?     0 
then    I  should  take  ,  efncr,.  behind  ihr  f  i  i^^Jly  portals  of  a  convent '"      ' 
''  V^  hy  take  reluge  in  .-v  convent  '!'■'  ^aid  a'suft  voice  behind  her 
I  her..se  .spran-  np  x^  ith  sueh  ^.  ijd  aglt^Mion,  that  the  liarp  will* «  clanf , 
fell  b|ick  ap.nst,  ihe  wftll.     Too  well  she  knew  .this  musical  voice-it 
was  the  vo.ce  which  spoke  to  her  in  dreams  ;  and  as  its  tones  fell  so  sud- 
denly upon  her  ear,  she  felt  as  if  a  holt  from  heaven  had  struck  h«5r  heart 
and  knew  not  whether  she  would  die  of  ecstacy  or  frirrht 

"Joseph  !"  exclaimed  she.  all  vnconsciou*  .jf  the  wT.rd,  and  sho  sank 
back  nit<,  her  chair,  not  daring  to  raise  her  eyes.  With  one  bound  the 
il-nnperor  was  at  her  side,  takihg  her  hands,  and  pressing  them  within  his 


own. 


Pardon  me,  Count^sss,"  said  he  tenderly.  ''  I  have  startled  yon  Ii 
was  wrong  Of  n)e  to  send  away  your  maid,  and  to  present  myst-lf  unan-^ 
nounccd.  In  wy^  selfishness,  /  would  not  wait  for  form.  an,f  forgot  tha'. 
my  xmt  was  totally  unexpected.  Say  that  you  forgive  me,  let  me  read 
my  pardon  m  your  heavenly  eves." 

Theruse^ slowly  raised  her  head,  and  tried  to  speak.  She;  loncred  to 
say  jhat  she  had  nothing  to  forgive,  but  had  not  the  courage  to  me'et  lh<^ 
glances  ot  iho^  eyes  which  were  fixed  ui.on  her  with  an  ""expression  of 
passionate  entreaty,  and  seemed  to  be  gazing  into  her  heart,  reading  its 
most  cherished,  most  consecrated  secrets.  '  *    - 

Did   he   understand    the   language   of  her  agitation  ?     "  Look  at  nu- 
ihercse,    N^hispered  he.     -  It  is  an   et-ernity  since   we  met,  and  now— 
once  more  look  at  your  angel-face,  for  I  come  to  bid  adieu  to  it  forever  " 
Mie  started,  repeating  his  words,  "  bid  adieir— adieu  '" 

T  Z^^'a^^^  ''""'  ^^'''"- ,   ^""''''^  ''■''''^^'■^  *^««  g"*-^-'^^^^^  ^he  secret  which 
]  had  fondly  miagined  was  known  to  God.  and  to  myself  only.     And  yet 
Jhercse,  I  have  never  even  told  yourself  how   passionately  I  love  you  ' 
My  eyes  must  have  betrayed,  me  to  others,  for  since  that  "happy  day  at 
bchonbrunn  when  I  kissed  the  rose  which   had  dropped  from   your  hair 
you  have  not  been  seen  at  court.     I  should   never  have  told'you  this! 
Toy  best  be  oved    but  the  anguish  of  this  hour  has  wrung  the  confessiori 
rom  me.     Jt  wi  11  die  away  from  your  memory  like  the  tones  of  a  strange 
ipelody,  and  be  lost  in  the  jubilant  harmony  of  your  happy  married  life  " 
^    iie  turned  away  that  she  might  not  see  the  tears  which  had  gathered 
in  his  eyes  and  were  ready  to  fall.     As  for  Therose,  she  rose  to  her  feet 
lor  one  moment,  her  heart  stood  st>ll-the  next,  her  blood  was  cours! 
mg  so  w.ldly  through  her  veins  that  she  thought  he  must  surely  hear  its 
mad  throbbings  m  the  stillness  of, that  little  room.     The  Emperor  turn- 
ed again,  and  his  face  was  gravfe,  but  calm.     He  had  mastered  his  omo- 
t.on,  and  ashamed  of  the  weakness  of  the  avowal  he  had  made  he  deter- 
mined to  atone  for  it.     He  took  the  hand  of  the  Countess  and  led  her 
to  a  divan,  where  he  gently  drew  her  down,  while  she  obeyed,  as  thoucrh 


i:t-'i  lO'^KPH  rut;  -iKcoNi;. 

her  will  had  sod  lion  ly  been  merged  jnlo  his.  She  was  conscious  of  one 
thing  only.'  He  was  there  !  [le  whoiie  name  was  wriLtou  upon  her 
heai'i,  though  she  had  never  uttered  it  until  that  day  ! 

He  stood  before  her  with  folded  arms  and  contemplated  her  as  an  en- 
thusiast might  look  upon  the  statue  of  a  saint. 

"Therese,"  said  he  after  a  long  silence,  "  why  did  you  say  that  you 
wvuld  go  into  a  convent  1" 

Therose  grew  pale  and  shivered,  but  said  nothin*.  Joseph,  bending 
down  and  looking  intu  her  eyes,  repeated  his  question. 

"  Because  my  liither  wishes  me  to  marry  a  man  whom  I  do  not  love," 
replied  Therese,  with  a  candor  which  yielded  to  the  magic  of  his  glance, 
as  the  rose  gives  her  heart's  sweet  perfume  to  the  wooing  of  the  sum- 
mer breeze. 

"  But,  Therese,"  said  the  Emperor,  mindful  of  his  promise,  "you  must 
obey  your  father;     It  is  your  duty." 

"  No — 1  shall  never  marry,"  returned  Therese  eagerly. 

"  Marriage  is  the  only  vocation  fit  for  a  woman,"  replied  Joseph.  "The 
wife  is  commanded  to  follow  her  husband." 

"  Yes,  to  follow  the  husband  of  her  love,"  interrupted  she  with  enthuc 
siasm.  "And  O  !  it  must  be  heaven  on  earth  to  follow  the  beloved  oue 
through  joy  and  sorrow,  to  feel  with  his  heart,  to  see  with  his  eyes,  to 
live  for  his  love,  or,  if  God  grant  such  supreme  happiness,  to  die  for  his 
sake!" 

'•  Therese !"  exclaimed  Joseph  passionately,  as  gazing  upon  her  In- 
spired countenance,  he  forgot  everything  except  his  love  ! 

She  blushed,  and  her  eyes  sought  the  floor.  "No,"  said  she  as  if 
communing  with  herself,  "  this  blessing,  1  shall  never  know." 

"  And  why  not  ?"  cried  he.  "  Why  should  one  so  young,  so  beauti- 
ful, so  gifted  as  you,  cast  away  the  ties  of  social  life  and  pass  beyond 
the  joyless  portals  of  a  convent  ?" 

Therese  said  nothing.  She  sat  ashamed,  bewildered,  entranced  ;  and 
in  her  confusion,  her  beauty  grew  tenfold  greater.  The  Eniperor's  res- 
olutions were  fast  melting  away. 

Again  he  besought  her  in  tender  tones.  "  Tell  me,  my  Therese,-  con- 
fide in  me,  fitr  I  swear  that  your  happiness  is  dearer  to  me  than  my  life." 
He  bent  closer,  and  seized  her  hands.  His  touch  was  electric,  for  a  tre- 
mor took  possession  of  them  both,  and  they  dared  not  look  at  one  an- 
other. Joseph  recovered  himself  and  began  in  low,  pleading  tones. 
"  Look  at  me,  beloved,  and  let  me  read  my  answer  in  your  truthful 
eyes.     Look  at  me,  for  those  eyes  are  my  light,  my  life,  my  heaven  !" 

Therese  could  not  obey.  Her  head  sank  lower  and  lower,  and  deep, 
convulsive  sighs  rent  her  lieart.  The  Emperor,  scarcely  knowing  what 
he  did,  knelt  before  her,  and  once  more  taking  her  willing  hands,  she 
met  his  glance  of  intoxicated  love,  and^uaable  to  resist  it,  murmured, 

"  Because  I  love — thee." 

Had  he  heard  arjnjlit !  Was  it  not  the  trees  whispering  to  the  sum- 
mer air?     Or  the  birds  cooing  beneatli   the  eaves?     Or  had  an  angel 


EMPKI;iJK  UF   AUbTHIA.  1!25 

borne  the  message  from  lli;it  heaven  which  to-day  was  so  radiant  and  so 
silver-bright ! 

JJe  still  kno.lt,  and  pressed  her  trembling  hands  to  his  lips,  while  his 
faCH  was  lit  up  with  a  joy  which  Therrsc  had  never  seen  there  before. 

"  O  have  I  fotiiyl  the  last,  jstar  of  my  dark  and  t;olitary  life  !"  said  he 
at  last.  "Are  yon  mine  at  last,  shy  gazelle,  that  so  long  have  escaped 
nie,  bonndiiig  higher  and  higher  up  the  icy  steeps  of  this  cheerless  world  ! 
O,  'Jhorose,  why  did  I  not  lind  you  in  the  early  years  of  life  T  And  yet 
I  thank  heaven  that  you  are  mine  for  these  few  fleeting  moments,  for 
they  have  taken  me  back  to  the  days  of  my  youth  and  its  beautiful  illu- 
sions !  Ah,  Thcrose,  from  the  first  hour  w-hen  1  beheld  you  advancing 
on  your  father's  artn  to  greet  me,  proud  as  an  Empress,  calm  as  a  ves- 
tal, beautiful  as  Aprt)dite,  my  heart  acknowledged  you  as  its  mistress  ! 
iSincc  then  I  have  been  your  slave,  kissing  your  shadow  as  it  went  be- 
fore me,  and  yet  not  conscious  of  my  insane  passion  until  your  father 
saw  mo  with  that  rose — and  then  t  knew  that  I  loved  you  forever  ! 
Yes,  Therosc,  you  are  the  last  love  of  an  unfortunate  man,  whom  the 
world  calls  an  Emperor,  but  who  lies  at  your  feet,  as  the  beggar  before 
his  ideal  of  the  glorious  Madonna!  Bend  to  roc.  Madonna,  and  let  me 
drink  my  last  draught  of  love  !  I  shall  soon  have  quafied  it,  and  then 
— your  father  will  be  here  to  remind  me  that  you  are  a  high-bofn 
Countess,  the  priceless  treasure  of  whose  love  I  may  not  possess!  Kiss" 
me,  my  Thercse,  and  consecrate  my  lips  to  holy  resignation  !" 

And  Thercse,  too  bewildered  to  resist,  bent  forward.  Their  lips  met, 
his  arms  were  around  her,  and  time,  place,  station,  honor — everything 
vanished  before,  the  might  of  their  love. 

Suddenly  they  heard  an  exclamation — and  there,  at  the  j^oWicVe,  stood 
the  father  and  the  suitor  of  Thercse,  their  pale  and  angry  faces  turned 
towards  the  lovers. 

The  Emperor,  burning  v/ith  shame  and  fury,  sprang  to  his  feet.  The- 
rcse, with  a  faint  cry,  hid  her  face  in  her  hands,  and  trembling  with  fear 
awaited  her  sentence. 

There  was  a  deep  silence.  Each  one  seemed  afraid  to  speak,  for  the 
first  word  uttered  in  that  room  might  be  treason.  With  dark  and  sul- 
len fiiCGs,  the  two  noblemen  looked  at  the  imperial  culprit,  who  leaning 
against  the  window,  with  head  upturned  to  heaven,  seemed  scarcely  able 
to  sustain  the  weight  of  his  own  anguish.  The  stillness  was  insupport- 
able, and  it  was  his  duty  to  break  it.  He  glanced  at  the  two  men  who, 
immovable  and  frowning,  awaited  his  explanation. 

Joseph  turned  to  Thercse,  who  had  not  yet  withdrawn  her  hands.  She 
felt  as  if  she  could  never  face  the  world  again. 

"  Rise,  Thercse,  and  give  me  your  hand,"  said  he  authoritatively. 

She  obeyed  at  once,  and  the  Emperor,  pressing  tliat  trembling  hand 
within  his  own,  led  her  to  her  father. 

•  "  Count  Dietrichstein,"  said  ho,  "  you  reminded  me  to-day  of  the  long- 
tried  loyalty  of  your  house,  and  asked  me,  as  your  reward,  to  advise 
your  daughter'^  acceptance  of  the  Imsbailtl  you  have  chosen   for  her.     I 


have  fulfilled  my  promise  and  Thert'.'se  has  coiisented  to  oljey  your  com- 
jiiands.  She  promises  to  renounce  her  dream  of  entering  a  convent,  and 
to  become  the  wife  of  Count  Kinsky.  Is  it  not  so,  Thercso  1  Have  I 
not  your  approval  in  proraisins;  these  things  to  your  father?" 

"  It  is  so,"  murmured  Therrsc,  turning  pale  as  death. 

'•  And  now,  Count  Dietrichstein,"  continued  Joseph,  "  I  will  allow 
you  to  postpone  your  mission  to  Brussels,  so  that  before  you  leave  Vi- 
enna, you  inay  M'itness  the  nuptials  of  your  daughter.  In  one  week  the 
juarringe  will  be  solemnized  in  the  imperial  chapel.  Count  Kinsky,  I 
dvlivur  vour  bride  into  your  hands.  Farewell !  1  shall  meet  you  in  the 
ch.'ipel."' 

He  bowed  and  hurried  away.  He  heard  the  cry  which  broke  from  the 
lips  of  There^e,  although  he  did  uot  turn  his  head  when  her  father's 
voice  called  loudly  fOr  help.  But  seeing  that  the  Countesses'  maid  was 
Will  king  in  t!ie  park,  he  overtook  her,  sa_y  ing  hastily,  "  Go  quickly  to  the 
pavilion  ;   the  Countess  Therese  has  fainted." 

Then  he  hastened  away,  not  keeping  the  walks,  but  tramping  heed-, 
iessly  over  the  flowers,  and  dashing  past  the  lilacs  and  laburnums,  think- 
ing of  that  fearful  day  when  Adam  was  driven  from  Paradise,  and  won- 
dering whether  the  agony  of  the  first  man  who  sinned  had  been  greater 
than  his  to  day,  when  the  sun  was  setting  upon  the  last  dream  of  loye, 
which  he  wo.u!d  ever  have  in  this  world  ! 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

THE  TURKISH  WAR. 


The  bolt  had  fallen.  Russia  had  declared  war  against  Turkey.  On 
the  return  of  the  Emperor  from  his  unfortunate  pilgrimage  to  Count 
Dietrichstein's  villa,  three  couriers  awaited  him,  from  Petersburg,  Con- 
stantinople and  Berlin.  Besides  various  dispatches  from  Count  Cobenzl, 
the  courier  from  Petersburg  brought  an  autographic  letter  from  the  Em- 
press. Catharine  reminded  the  Emperor  of  the  promise  which  he  had 
made  in  St.  Petersburg  and  renewed  at  Cherson,  and  announced  that  the 
hour  had  arrived  for  its  fulfillment.  The  enmity  so  long  smothered  un- 
der the  ashes  of  a  simulated  peace,  had  kindled  and  broken  out  into  the 
flames  of  open  war. 

The  Porte  himself  had  broken  1;he  peace.  On 'account  of  some  arbi- 
trary act  of  the  Russian  Ambassador,  he  had  seized  and  confined  him  in 
the  Seven  Towers.  Russia  had  demanded  his  release  and  satisfaction 
fur  the  insult.     The  Sultan  had  rcpUed  by  demanding  the  restoration  of 


t;MPI:;K<JK    UK    Al/SIKJA.  T^'/ 

the  Crimea  a»)0  ihe  wilhdruwal  uf  the  Russian  fleet  fVoni  the  Black  Sea. 
The  disputants  had  called  in  the  Austrian  internuncio,  but  all  diplomacy 
v;is  vain.  Indeed  neither  Kussia,  Turkey,  nor  Austria,  had  placed  any 
relianco  upon  the  ne-iotiatioris  tor  peace,  for  while  they  were  pending, 
tlio  three  powers  \fere  all  assiduously  preparing  for  war.  In  the.  spring 
of  n>-<,  the  Austrian  Intrmuncio  declined  any  furtlipr  attenipt  at  me- 
diation, and  hostilities  between  Russia  and  Turkey  were  renewed, 

.loi^eph  rpoeived  the  tidings  with  an  outburst  of  joy.  They  lifted  a 
lojid  of  grief  from  his  heart,  fur  war,  lo  him,  was  balsam  for  every 
sorrow. 

"  Now  I'shall  be  cured  of  this  Jast  woupd  !"  exclaimed  he,  as  he  paced 
his  cabinet,  the  dispatches  in  his  hand.  "  God  is  niercilul — He  has  senc 
the  remedy,  and  I  shall  feel  once  more  like  a  sovereign  and  a  man! 
How  I  long  to  hear  the  bullets  hiss  and  the  battle  rage  !  There  are  no 
myrtles  for  me  on  earth  ;  perchance  I  may  yet  be  permitted  to  gather 
its  laurels.  Welcome,  O,  war  !  Welcome  the  march,  the  camp,  and 
the  balile-field '.': 

He  rang  and  commanded  the  presence  of  Field  marshal  Lacy.  Then 
he  read  his  dispatches  again,  from  lime  to  time  glancing  impatiently  at 
the  door.  Finally  it  opened  and  a  page  announced  the  Field-marshal. 
Joseph  came  hurriedly  forward  and  grasped  the  hands  of  his  long  tried 
friend.  . 

"  Lacy,"  cried  he,  "  from  this  day  you  sh.-Ul  be  better  pleased  than 
you  have  been  with  me  of  late.  1  have  seen  your  reproving  looks — 
nay  do  not  deny  it — for  they  have  been  as  significant  as  words;  and  if 
1  made  no  answer,  it  was  perhaps  because  I  was  guilty,  and  had  nothing 
to  say.  You  have  sighed  over  my  dejection  for  months  past,  dea^ 
friend,  but  it  has  vanished  with  thp  tidings  I  have  just  received.  I  am 
ready  to  rush  out  into  the  storm,  bold  and  defiant  as  Ajax  !" 

"  O  how  it  rejoices  my  heart  to  hear  such  words,"  replied  Lacy,  pres- 
sing  Joseph's  hand.  "  I  recognise  my  hero,  my  Emperor  again,  and 
victory  is  throned  upon  his  noble  brow !  With  those  flashing  eyes  and 
that  triumphant  bearing,  you  will  inspire  your  Austriaus  with  such  en- 
thusiasm, that  every  man  of  them  will  follow  whithersoever  his  com- 
mander leads  !" 

"Ah,"  cried  Joseph  joyfully,  "you  have  guessed  then  why  I  request- 
ed your  presence  here  \  Yes,  Lacy,  War  is  not  only  welcome  to  you 
and  to  me,  but  I  know  that  it  will  also  rejoice  the  hearts  of  the  Austrian 
artny.  And  now,  I  invite  you  to  accompany  me  on  my  campaign 
against  the  Turks,  and  I  give  you  chief  command  of  my  armies  ;  for 
your  valor  and  patriotism  entitle  you  to  the  distinction." 

"Your  Majesty  knows  that  my  life  is  ctmsccrated  to  your  service," 
replied  Lacy  with  strong  emotion.  '•  You  know  with  what  pride  I  would 
fight  at  your  side,  secure  that  victory  must  always  perch  upon  the  ban- 
ners of  my  gallant  Emperor." 

"  And  you  rejoice,  do  you  not,  Lacv,  that  our  fee  is  to  be  the  Mos- 
lem ?" 


128  JOSEfK  THE  SECON0. 

Lacy  was  silent  for  awhile.  "  I  should  rejoice  from  my  soul,"'  replied 
he  with  some  hesitation,   "if  Austria  were  fighting  her  own  battles." 

"  Our  ally  is  distasteful  to  you?"  asked  Joseph  laughing,  "You 
have  not  yet  learned  to  love  Russia?" 

"  I  have  no  riglit  to  pass  judgment  upon  those  whom  your  Majesty 
has  deemed  worthy  of  your  alliance,  sire." 

"  No  evasions,  Lacy.  You  are  pledged  to  truth  when  you  enter  these 
palace-walls." 

"Well,  sire,  if  we  are  in  the  Palace  of  Truth,  I  must  confess  to  a  pre- 
judice against.  Russia  and  Russia's  Empress.  Catharine  calls  for  your 
Majesty's  assistance,  not  to  further  the  cause  of  justice  or  of  right,  but 
to  aid  her  in  making  new  conquests." 

"I  shall  not  permit  her  to  make  any  new  conquests,"  cried  Joseph. 
"She  may  tight  out  her  quarrel  with  Turkey,  and  so  far,  1  shall  keep 
my  promise  and  sustain  her.  But  I  shall  lend  my  sanction  to  none  of 
her  ambitious  schemes.  1  suffered  the  Porte  to  cede  Tauris  to  Catha- 
rine, because  this  cession  was  of  inestimable  advantage  to  me.  It  pro- 
tected my  boundaries  from  the  Turk  himself,  and  then  it  produced  dis- 
sension between  the  Courts  of  St.  Petersburg  and  Berlin,  and  so  depriv- 
ed the  latter  of  her  powerful  ally,*  But  having  permitted  Russia  to 
take  possession  of  the  Crimea,  the  aspect  of  afliiirs  is  changed.  I  never 
shall  suffer  the  Russians  to  establish  themselves  in  Constantinople.  The 
Turban,  I  conceive  to  be  a  safer  neighbor  for  Austria  than  the  hat.*  '  At 
this  present  time,  Russia  offers  me  the  opportunity  of  retaking  Belgrade 
and  avenging  the  humiliation  sustained  by  my  father  at  the  hands  of  the 
Porte.  For  two  hundred  years  these  barbarians  of  the  east  have  been 
guilty  of  bad  faith  towards  my  ancestors,  and  the  time  has  arrived  when, 
as  the  avenger  of  all  mankind,  I  shall  deliver  Europe  from  the  Infide), 
and  the  world  from  a  race  who  for  centuries  has  been  the  scourge  of 
every  Christian  nation."f 

"And  in  this  glorious  struggle  of  Christianity  and  civilization  against 
Jslainism  and  barbarism,  I  shall  be  at  my  Emperor's  side  and  witness 
his  triumph  !  This  is  a  privilege  which  the  last  drop  of  my  blood  would 
be  inadequate  to  buy !" 

The  Emperor  again  gave  his  hand.  "  I  knew  that  you  would  be  as 
glad  to  follow  me  as  a  war-horse  •  to  follow  the  trumpet's  call.  This 
time  we  shall  have  no  child's  play  ; — it  shall  be  war,  grim,  bloody  war  ! 
— And  now  to  work.  In  one  hour,  the  courier  must  depart,  who  bears 
my  manifesto  to  the  Porte.  No,  Lacy,"  continued  the  Emperor,  as 
Lacy  prepared  to  leave,  "do  not  go.  As  commander-inchie^  you 
should  be  thoroughly  acquainted  with  the  premises  of  our  affair  with 
Turkey  and  you  must  hear  both  the  manifestoes  which  I  am  about  to 
dictate.  The  first  of  course  declares  war  against  the  Porte.  The  sec- 
ond is  perhaps  nothing  more  than  a  letter  to  the  successor  of  the  great 
Frederic.     His  Majesty  of  Prussia,  foreseeing  in  his  extreme  wisdom, 

•The  Emperor's  own  •words.  ■  !?cn  Oro9a-Hofflns;er  III,  p  4^8-9. 
tTLe  Krnperor  own  words.    See  Letters  of  Joseph  3'l.  pa,':;c  1G5. 


li  atu\>i\  ur    ALOi  jtj..^. 


that  I  am  likely  to  declare  war  against  Turkey,  is  su  ooiidescendiug  as 
to  oiror  hinisell' as  mediator  between  us  !  Yuu  shall  hoar  my  answer 
and  tell  me  what  you  think  of  it." 

Lacy  bowed,  and  the  Emperor  opening  the  door  leading  to  the  chan- 
cery, beckoned  to  his  private  Secretary.  He  entered,  took  his  seat  and 
held  his  pen  ready  to  indite  '.vhat  Jo.-Jcpli  should  dictate.  Lacy  retired 
to  the  embrasure  of  a  window,  and  with  his  arnis  crossed  stood"  partlv 
hidden  by  the  heavy  crimson  velvet  curtains,  his  eyes  li.ved  upon  hfs 
idoli-^ed  Sovereign. 

Joseph  went  restlessly  to  and  fro,  and  dictated  his  manifesto  to  the 
Porte.  Referring  to  his  alliance  with  Russia  and  the  flvilure  of  his  at- 
tempts at  intervention,  he  went  on  to  say  that  as  the  sincere  friend  and 
iiWy  of  the  Empress,  he  was  compelled  to  fulfill  his  obligations,  and  re- 
luctantly to  take  part  in  the  war  which  Catharine  had  declared  against 
Turkey/- 

"  Now,"  said  the  Emperor,  "  take  another  sheet  and  write  '  To  His 
Majesty  the  King  of  Prussia.'" 

'•  My  royal  brother  — 

"■It  is  with  feelings  of  profound  regret  that  1  find  nivself  forced  to  de- 
cline your  Majesty's  most  friendly  offers  of  mediation  with  Turkey.  1  am 
obliged  to  unsheathe  my  sword,  and  1  shall  not  return  it  to  its  scabbard 
until  it, shall  have  won  full  reparation  for  all  the  wrongs  sustained  bv 
my  forefathers  at  the  hands  of  the  Porte.  Your  Majesty  is  a  monarch 
and  as  such,  you  are  acquainted  with  the  rights  of  kings.  And  is  this 
undertakin;:,  "f  mine  against  Turkey  anything  more  than  an  attempt  to 
resume  the  lights  of  which  my  throne  has  been  dispossessed? 

"The  Turks  (and  perhaps  not  they  alone)  have  a  mtixim  that  what- 
ever they  lose  in  adverse  times,  they  must  win  back  when  opportunity 
is  favorable.  It  is  by  such  means  that  the  House  of  Hohenzolleru  at- 
tained its  present  state  of  prosperity.  Albert  of  Brandenburg  wrested 
the  duchy  of  Prussia  from  its  Order,  and  his  successors  .at  the  peace  of 
Oliva  maintained  their  right  to  the  sovereignty  of  that  country. 

"  Your  ^Majesty's  deceased  uncle,  in  like  manner,  wrested  Silesia  from 
my  mother  at  a  time  when,  surrounded  by  enemies,  her  only  defences 
■were  her  own  true  greatness  and  the  loyalty  of  her  subjects. 

"  What  equivalent  for  her  lost  possessions  has  Austria  received  at  the 
hands  of  those  European  Courts  who  have  blown  so  many  blasts  on  the 
balance  of  power  ?  ^ 

"  My  forefathers  were  forced  at  diflereut  times  to  yield  up  Spain,  Na- 
ples, Sicily,  Belgrade,  the  Principality  of  Silesia,  Parma,  Piacenza,  Guas- 
talla,  Tortonn  and  a  portion  of  Lombardy.  What  has  Austria  taken  in. 
return  for  these  heavy  losses  ? 

"  A  porti(>n  of  the  Kingdom  of  Poland  I  And  one  o(  less  value  than 
that  assigned  to  Russia. 

"  I  hope  that  you  will  not  dispute  the  justice  of  my  resolve  to  make 
•  Habner  2,  yagc  468. 


r 


l.iV  '      JoeKIMi    IHESECONP. 

WHf  upon  the  Porte,  and  that  you  will  not  hold  me  less  a  fripud  because 
1  may  do  some  injury  to  the  Ottoman.  Your  Majesty  may. rest  assured 
that  tirider  similar  circumstauces,  I  should  apply  the  same  principles  to 
myself,  were  1  poi:}sessed  of  any  o^  your  territory. 

"  I  must  also  announce  to  you,  that  for  some  years  to  conie,  diplo- 
macy must  give  place  to  war. 

"Hoping  for  a  continuation  of  your  Majesty's  friendship,  I  am  with 
highest  esteem,  your  friend  and  brother.  JosEra."* 

This  letter  concluded,  the  Emperor  dismissed  his  Secretary  and  threw 
himself  into  an  arm-chair: 

"  Well,  Lacy,"  said  he,  "are  you  pleased  with  my  letter?  Havel 
convinced  the  King  that  it  is  my  duty  to  declare  war  against  the  Mos- 
Jem  f ' 

'■  Sire,"  said  Lacy,  approaching,  "  1  thank  you  from  my  heart  for  the 
privilege  of  hearing  tTiat  letter.  1  know  not  which  to  admire  most,  your 
ALijcsty's  admirable  knowledge  of  the  history  of  your  House,  or  the 
quiet  sharpness  with  which  you  have  made  your  statements.  But  this 
I  know,  that  had  you  forbidden  me  to  accompany  you,  1  should  have 
been  for  the  first  time  in  my  life,  rebellious ^  for  if  1  had  not  been  al- 
lowed to  fight  as  an  officer,  1  should  have  done  so  as  a  private." 

"  There  spoke  my  Lacy,  my  own  gallant  Austrian  !"  exclaimed  Jo- 
seph. "  To  work,  then,  to  work!  Promulgate  your  orders  and  set 
•your  men  in  motion.-  In  two  days  we  n>ust  have  two  hundred  thousand 
men  on  our  frontiers.  We  must  draw  a  gigantic  cordon  from  the  Dnies- 
ter to  yie  Adriatic.  The  main  body,  however,  must  go  forward  toSem- 
lin  and  Futak.  We  two  follow  the  main  arnjy,  and  day  after  to-mor- 
row Vife  must  set  out,  and no,"  said  the  Emperor  interrupting  him- 
self, while  all  the  light  died  out  from  his  countenance.  "  No — I  cannot , 
set  out  for  a  week  yet.  I  must  first  bid  adieu  to  the  last  tie  that  binds 
my  heart  (as  a  man)  to  this  life !  That  tie  riven,  I  live  as  an  Emperor 
and  a  warrior.  Once  in  camp,  J  shall,  Heaven  be  praised  !  forget  all 
things  else,  and  be  myself  again  !" 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

MARRIAGE  AKD   SEPAKATION. 

The  eight  long,  weary  days  had  gone  by,  the  preparations  tor  war 
were  complete,  and  the  Emperor  was  ready  to  join  his  .army.     He  bad 

*  Letters  of  -Joseph  II.  page  121,  aud  the  following. 


wc>il<e(i  day  and  night,  refusing  to  rest,  and  answeiingall  remonstrances 
■with  a  sad  smile. 

"  1  was  not<  born  a  Sovereign  to  devnte  my  lite  to  my  own  comfort," 
.said  he,  "bnt  to  consecrate  it  to  my  empire.  Whenever  I  become  too  fee- 
ble to  do  rny  duty,  I  will  ask  for  a  pcusioi),  and  retire  to  a  convetil,  like 
Charles  the  Fifth.  1  have  no  Uiste.  however,  for  the  vocation,  sincerely 
hoping  to  die  as  I  have  lived — an  Einperor." 

"But,  aire,"  said  the  imperial  physician  Von  Quarin,  "your  first  duty- 
is  to  preserve  your  life  for  Austria's  sake.  You  have  a  hot  fever,  and 
your  eyes  and  cheeks  are  hollow."      . 

"Give  me  a  cool  drink,  doctor,  perchance  it  may  refresh  my  burning 
heart,"  said  Joseph,  with  sad  irony. 

"Cool  drinks  will  do  no  good  unless  your  Msjesty^ consents  to  take 
some  rest.  Sleep  is  the  sovereign  remedy  of  which  you  are  in  need, 
sire."  '  ,  ' 

"I  do  not  wish  to  sleep."  replied  Joseph,  gloomily.  "Sleep  brings 
happy  dreams,  and  1  hate  them  because  of  their  falsehood  !  Who  would 
dream  of  bliss  to  wake  and  lind  it  all  a  lie!" 

"Your  valet  told  me  that  you  did  not  lie  down  last  night." 

"  My  valot  is  a  chatterbox  and  knows  not  what  hi?,  says." 

"  But,  your  Majesty,  I  know  that  you  have  not  been  to  bed  !" 

"Then  1  slept  in  an  arm-chair  !  Rut  no,  1  will  not  deny  it.  1  sat  up 
all  night,  Quarin,  for  I  had  an  important  duty  to  perform  before  leaving 
Vienna.     1  was  making  my  will." 

"  Your  will !"  repeated  Von  Quarin.  "  Surely  your  Majesty  docs  not 
fear-^^ " 

"  No,  I  fear  nothing — certainly  not  death."  returned  the  Emperor, 
"It  must  be  sweet  to  die  and  part  from  the  disappointments  of  life;  for 
man  either  goes  to  eternal  sleep,  or  wakes  forever  to  eternal  happiness  ! 
I  am  not  afraid  of  death,  but  I  must  put  my  house  in  order,  for  bullets 
respect  no  man,  and  they  h.ive  never  yet  been  taught  that  an  Emperor 
is  not  to  be  approached  without  ceremony.  One  might  strike  mc  on 
the  head  and  send  me  to  my  eternal  rest.  Why  what  a  doleful  face 
you  wear,  Quarin  !  U Emperexir  est  mort !  Vive  V Empereur  !  1  shall 
bequeath  to  you  a  noble  young  Emperor  and  a  beautiful  and  charming 
Empress.  Is  that  not  better  than  a  surly  old  fellow  like  myself? 
Francis  is  my  pride,  and  his  sweet  Elizabeth  is  like  a  daughter  to 
mc.  1  must  then  make  my  will,  and  provide  for  my  children.  Now 
Doctor,  have  you  forgiven  me  for  sitting  up  all  night?"  t 

"  1  have  nothing  to  forgive,  sire,  but  i  implore  you  grant  me  one  re- 
quest." 

"Yon  wish  to  dose  me  with  medicine?  I  see  it  in  yOur  face  ;  you 
carry  an  apothecary's  shop  in  your  eyes  just  now." 

"  No,  sire,  I  wish  to  ask  permission  to  follow  you  as  your  Surgeon, 
that  if  anything  should  happen,  I  may  be  there." 

"  No,  Quarin,  you  must  not  follow  mc.  1  cannot  be  guilty  of  th© 
egotism  which  would  monopoli.c  your  valuable  iiervices,     A  soldier  in 


i;i'J  JOSKPH  TEIE  SECOXU. 

the  field  has  no  right  to  be  sick,  lest  he  be  suspected  of  cowardice ;  and 
as  for  casualities — why  if  a  ball  should  strike  me,  there  are  plenty  of 
army  surgeons,  who  will  dress  my  wounds  as  they  dress  those  of  my 
men.  Remain  at  home  then,  my  friend,  and  do  better  service  by  far 
than  you  could  render  me  on  the  battle-field.  Farewell,  now.  In  two 
hours  I  leave,  but  before  that  time.  I  have  some  important  business  oa 
hand.     First,  I  must  go  with  my  will  to  Prince  Kaunitz.'' 

"  Did  your  Majesty  hear  ijiat  he  had  almost  struck  the  Countess  Clary, 
and  had  banished  her  from  his  presence  for  a  week,  because  she  had  pro- 
nounced the  word  '  testament'  in  his  hearing  I'-' 

"  Yes,  I  was  told  of  it,  and  I  shall  take  good  -care  not  to  bring  down 
the  vials  of  his  wrath  upon  my  head,"  said  Joseph  laughing.  '■'•  I  hhall 
not  pronounce  the  word  '  testament,'  I  shall  speak  of  ray  treaty  of  peace 
with  life,  and  u^e  every  precaution  to  save,  his  Highness's  feelings. 
Strange  mystery  of  life !"  continued  the  Emperor  musing,  "  forever 
changing,  shape,  and- hue,  like  the  nimble  figures  of  a  Kaleidoscope! — • 
"Well — t  must  use  stratageni  in  this  matter  of  the  '  testaaicnt,'  for  Kau- 
nitz must  assume  the  Regency  of  the  empire,  and  then — then — I  n>ust 
attend  a  wedding.  Afier  that  the  battle-field  !  Adieu,  Quariu,  if  we 
meet  no  more  on  earth,  I  hope  that  we  shall  meet  above." 

One  hour  later,  the  Emperor  returned  from  the  hotel  of  his  prime 
Minister,  and  entered  the  imperial  chapel.  He  was  in  full  dress,  decked 
with  all  his  orders.  It  was  only  on  state  occasions  that  Joseph  appear- 
ed in  his  magnificent  uniforms  :  he  bad  not  worn  it  since  the  marriage  of 
.  his  nephew  to  the  Princess  Elizabeth  of  Wiirtemburg.  But  his  face  wore 
another,  and  a  sadder  expression  than  it  had  done  on  that  day  of  rejoic- 
ing. He  was  very  pale,  and  when  he  perceived  the  bri^e,  he  leaned  for 
one  moment  against  a  friendly  pillar  that  saved  him  from  reeling.  This 
weakness,  however,  lasted  but  a  moment,  and  he  walked  firmly  up  to  the 
altar,  where  the  bridal  party  stood  awaiting  the  imperial  entrance. 

The  Em.peror  approached  Count  Dietrichstein,  and  greeted  him  cordi-, 
ally  ;  then  turning  to  Count  Kinsky  he  extended  his  band.  The  bride- 
groom did  not  appear  to  see  this,  for  he  cast  down  his  eyes,  and  made  a 
deep  inclination,  while  Joseph  with  a  sad  smile  withdrew  his  hand. 

He  had  not  dared  to  look  upon  the  trembling  bride,  who  seated  on  a 
chair,  and  surrounded  by  her  attendants,  had  just  recovered  from  a 
.swoon.  Her  aunt,  the  Countess  Dietriciistein,  explained  that  from  The- 
rcse's  childhood,  she  had  never  been  able  to  overcome  her  terror  of  light-' 
ning,  and  certainly,  if  this  was  w,  she  had  every  reason  for  terror  now. 
The  whole  sky  was  darkened  by  one  dense  pall  of  heavy  clouds  ;  the 
stained  windows  of  the  chapel  were  fiery  with  flash  after  flash  of  angry 
lightning,  whUe  fierce  above  their  heads  the  rolling  thunder  boomed 
aioHg  the  heavens,  and  then  died  away  in  low  mutterings  that  made  the 
earth  tremble. 

There  was  no  time  to  await  the  passing  away  of  the  storm,  for  the 
guests  at  that  hurried  bridal  were  impatient  to  depart.  The  carriages 
of  the  Emperor  and  of  Count  Dlctrichsteia   were  without,  and  neither 


cr.uld  irttry  long  in  Vionnii.  Ai.  iho  aitar  s^tood  TritT-'-^e's  unde,  dninl 
Lfopold^^'ii  Thuti,  bishop  cf  Passau,  and  jnovind  him  was  grouped  a 
s<ia(f!y  j|^»^<'f  prelates  . 'Hill  priests.  Count;  Di''rriclisf,i'in  wliispcn^  in 
his  daiighBP*  ear,  b!ie  losc  from  her  beut,  but  her  liglit  figure  stayed 
to  and  tro/Tike  a  slender  tree  before  the  advancing;  storm,  and  her  love- 
ly faeo  was  pale  as  that  of  a  statue  just,  leaviug  tlie  hand  of  the  sculptor. 
Thert-se's  fear  of  lightning  was  no  fiction,  and  she  almost  sank  to  the 
tloor  as  a  livid  fla«h  glanced  across  the  form  of  the  Emperor,  and  en- 
veloped him  in  a  sheet  of  living  flame.  Unheeding  it,  he  moved  on  to- 
wards the  unhappy  girl,  atid  witht)ut  a  word  or  a  look  extended  his 
hand.  Therose  trembling,  gave  hifft  ners,  aod  started  when  she  felt  the 
burning  clasp  that  closed  upon  he"-  icy  fiusers.  The  Emperor  led  nor  tu 
the  altar ;  behind,  came  the  aunt,  and  liithcr  of  the  bride,  and  between 
them.  Count  Kinsky.  whose  jt^alous  py^  watched  every  movement  of 
those  hands  Mhich  joined  together  for  tlip  space  of  a  moment,  were  about 
to  be  sundered  forever.  '-M^Mt 

Nothing,,  however,  was  to  be  seen.  ^Ii3|Emperrw's  eyes  were  fixed 
upon  the  altar,  those  of  Thercse  were  cast  ^wn.  Neither  saw  the  other. 
Only  the  burning  pressnic  of  one  hand,  and  the  clammy  coldness  of  the 
other,  revealed  to  both  l,ho  extent  of  the  sacrifice  they  were  making  to 
th<p.  Moloch  of  the  world's  opinion. 

Now  they  stood  before  the  altar.  The  Emperor  gave  the  bride  Into 
the  hands  of  the  bridegroom,  and  stepped  aside  to  take  his  place. 

The  ceremony  over,  the  bishop  pronounced  the  blessing,  and  all  pre- 
se»t  kuelt  to  receive  it.  Joseph  and  Thercse  were  side  by  side.  "NVith 
A  sigh,  they  raised  their  eyes  to  heaven,  each  praying  f  )r  the  other — The 
Emperor's  eyes  were  dim  with  tears,  but  he  dashedLthem  away,  and  ris- 
ing from  his  knees  prepared  to  congratulate  the  brine. 

A  peal  of  thunder  drowned  the  few  words  which  he  murmured.  But 
her  heart  caught  their  meaning,  and  she  whispered  in  return. 

"  \es,  in  heaven." 

Then  he  dropped  her  hand,  and  addressed  himself  to  the  bridegroom. 
"  Count  Kinsky,"  said  he  authoritatively,  "  I  wish  tu  speak  with  you  in 
private."'  The  Count,  with  a  scowl,  followed  his  Soveieign  to  the  nave 
of  the  chapel,  where,  at  a  distance  from  the  bridal  party,  they  were  in  no 
danger  of  being  overheard. 

"  Count,"  said  the  Emperor  gravely,  "  you  love  the  Countess  Therose?" 
Count  Kinsky  was  silent  for  a  while;  then  suddenly  he  replied  in  sharp, 
<;utting  accents,'- 1  Jiave  loved  her." 

The  Emperor  repeated  his  words.  "  You  have  loved  her  !  Do  you 
then  love  h<;r  no  longer?" 

"No — I  love  her  no  longer." 

"  When  did  you  cease  to  love  her  V 

"  On  this  day  week,  your  Majesty,"  said  the  Count  defiantly. 

Joseph  would  not  seem  to  observe  the  look  which  accompanied  these 
■words.  His  voice  was  unchanged  as  he  replied,  "  Count,  although  y«u  feel 
resentful  tov?ards  me,  you  believe  me  to  be  a  man  of  honor,  do  you  not  '<" 


I  :'.4  JOSEPR   THE   SECOND, 

*'  1  do.  sire  !' 

"  Then  1  swear  to  yon  by  all  that  is  sacred  to  me  as  man,  and  Sover- 
eign, that  Theiose  is  as  pure  in  the  sight  of  heaven  as  its*  basMhtest  an- 
gle. I  svvear  to  you  that  she  is  as  worthy  as  ever  she  wasjf^be  loved 
and  esteemed  by  her  husband,  as  his  wife,  and  the  future  mother  of  his 
children. 

"Your  Majesty  must  have  formed  an  intimate  acquaintance  with  the 
Countess,  to  be  able  to  answer  for  her  purity  of  heart,"  returned  Kinsley 
coldly. 

Joseph  looked  up,  pained.  "  Ah  I"  said  he,  "you  are  implacable! 
But  you  believe  me,  do  you  not  ?"?i 

The  Count  inclined  his  head.  •' I  dare  not  doubt  my  Sovereign's 
word." 

'•  Then  you  will  love  Thercgi^  as  she  deserves  to  be  loved  ?^' 

"  Love  is  not  to  be  controriea— not  even  by  an  Emperor.  My  love 
and  hiite  arc  not  to  be  drawn  olTand  on,  like  a  glove  !" 

"  Hate  !"  cried  the  Emperor,  shocked.  "  Great  God,  it  cannot  be  pos- 
sible that  you  hate  the  woman  whom  yon  have  voluntarily  chosen,  and 
whom  even  now,  before  yonder  altar,  you-  have  sworn  to  love  !  Why- 
then  did  you  marry  her  ?" 

"  Sire,  you  commanded  me  to  do  so,  just  one  week  ago,  and  as  a  loy- 
al subject  I  was  compelled  to  obey.  You  gave  me  no  alternative,  and 
]  married  her." 

"  She  will  inake  you  happy,"  replied  Joseph,  in  a  falterino;  voice.  "  I 
beseech  of  you  be  gentle  with  her.  Her  heart  is  not  at  ease,  and  ^e 
needs  all  your  tenderness  to  restore  her  to  happiness." 

Count  Kinsky  bowed  frigidly.  "  Will  your  Majesty  allow  me  to  ask 
a  favor  of  you '?"  salll  he. 

"  It  will  gratify  me  to  do  anything  for  you,"  replied  Joseph,  his  eyes 
lighting  up  with  pleasure. 

•    "Then  I  ask  of  your  Majesty,  on  your  honor,  to  answer  the  question 
I  am  about  to  ask." 

"  On  my  honor.  Count,  1  will  answer  it,"  said  Joseph  smiling. 

"  What  did  your  Majesty  say  to  the  Countess  just  now,  and  what  was 
her  reply  !" 

The*  Emperor  was  thunderstruck.     He  could  not  articulate  a  word. 

"  Your  Majesty  was  so  obliging  as  to  promise  an  answer." 

"  Yes,  Count — yes,"  faltered  the  Emperor.  "  You  shall  be  satisfied. 
I  said, '  Farewell,  Therese,  f  shall  claim  thee  in  heaven.'  " 

"  Your  Majesty  was  so  condescending  as  to  address  my  wife  in  this 
f-xmiliar  strain  !     And  her  reply  was " 

"  Only  these  words  ?     Yes,  in  heaven  ?" 

"  I  thank  your  Majesty." 

They  botjh  returned  to  the  company.  Joseph  cast  one  last  look  at 
Therese,  who  pale  and  rigid  was  receiving  the  congratulations  of  his  un- 
suspecting friends,  and  then  he  addressed  her  lather. 

"  VVell,  Count,  I  belieye  that  our  furlough  has  expired,  and  we  must 


EMl'EKnK    OF   ALSTRiA  1   j.; 

I 

roimn  to  our  commands.  Fiirevvell,  and  may  we  both  return  vlcforions 
to  Vienna." ' 

A  hiilt'an  hour  later,  an  imperial  calcdie  conveyed  him  to  the  array, 
and  to  Ficld-inarshal  Lacy,  who  had  proceded  hiin  there  by  several 
days. 

At  the  same  moment,  the  travelb'nir-ertrriage  of  Count  Kinsky  drove 
up, to  his- hotel.  Count  Dietrichstein,  betore  setting  cniv,,  hud  accompa- 
nied his  daughter  to  her  husband's  re.sideuc »;,  and  had  bidden  her  adieu. 
Ther«';se  was  now  ah>ne.  She  shuddered  :is  she  heard  Count  Kinsky's 
stpp,  and  wished  from  her  soul  that  death  would  release  her  from  the 
hateful  tie  which  bound  them  together,-  r- 

The  door  upened,  and  he  appearedi.  She  uttered  a  faint  cry,  and 
pressed  her  hands  to  her  throbbing  heart.  Count  Kinsky  answered  the 
cry  with  a  laugh  of  scorn. 

"Are  you  afraid  ?"  said  he,  striding  towards  her,  and  contemplating 
her  with  a  face  indicative  of  tsmothered  passion. 

Therese  raised  her  eyes  and  looked  fearlessly  into  his  eyes.  "  No, 
Count  Kinskv,  1  am  not  afraid,  nor  would  1  fear  if  you  had  come  to 
kill  me." 

The  Count  laughed  aloud.  "  Ah  !'•  cried  he  in  a  harsh,  grating  voice, 
"you  think  that  1  might  do  like  Prince' Bragation  and  th<;  Duke  of  Orl- 
eans who  strangled  their  young  wives  because  they  suspected  them  of 
infidelity  !  My  dear  madam,  these  romantic  horrors  belong  to  a  bygone 
century.  In  th'rs  sober  and  prosaic  age,  a  nobleman  avenges  his  woun- 
ded honor  not  by  murder  but.  by  contempt.  I  have  only  intruded  my- 
self to  ask  if  you  are  ready  to  start." 

"  1  am  ready,"  replied  Therose,  wearily. 

"Then  allow  me  to  accompany  you  to  the  carriage." 

"  My  father  having  given  you  my  hand,  I  have  no  right  to  refuse 
your  escort." 

"  Before  wc  go,  be  so  condescending  as  to  say  which  one  of  my  es- 
tates you  prefer  for  a  residence." 

"Select  my  residence  yourself.  Count;  you  know  that  )■  have  never 
visited  your  estates." 

"Then  I  choose  for  you  my  castle  in  Hungary  close  by  the  Turkish 
frontier,  for  there  you  will  have  the  latest  news  from  the'  arn^y  and  its 
comirianders."  > 

Therose  made  no  reply  to  this  sarcasm.  She  bent  her  bead  and  said, 
"  I  am  ready  to  submit  myself  to  your  decision  in  all  things." 

"  I  hop.e  that  the  Countess  Therrse  will  not  long  have  to  live  in  sub- 
jection to  her  husband,"  continued  he,  "  and  that  the  journey  which  1  am 
about  to  undertake  will  result  happily  for  us  both.  You  go  to  Hungary 
— I  to  Rome.     I  go  to  implore  of  the  Pope  a  divorce." 

"  You  are  going  to  sue  for  a  divorce  f  asked  Therusc;  "Perhaps 
you  can  spare  yourself  the  troublfi  of  a  journey  to  Jiome,  Count,  for  I 
have  already  anticipated  your  wishes.  My  petition  to  his  Holiness  went 
several  dnv^  ajro.  and "  ' 


.f([    rHK    -KCUM) 


'•  His  Majesty,  the  Emperor,  wrts  so  obliging  as  to  send  it  by  an  im- 
perial courier — i.;  that  what  you  were,  ;^bout  to  say  ?" 

Therese  continued  as  though  she  had  not  heard  the  interruption. 
"  My  applicatioa  vvent  through  Mon.si,rj;rjorc  Garaiiipi,  the  papal  nuncio, 
who  promised  to  use  his  influence  in  Uiy  behalf." 

"•'  What  an  edifying  coup'e  '."  exclaimed  Kinsky,  with  another  scorn- 
ful laugh.  '•  How  cohgeuial  ! — The  same  wishes,  and  unconsciously  the 
very  same  deeds  ! — What  a  pity  we  must  part  so  soon,  for  1  leave  you 
to-day;  nor  shall  I  have  the  pk-.asure  <>f  seeing  you  again,  until  I  bring 
you  a  decree  of  divorce." 

"You  will  be  most  welcome,  '^-cfurned  Therrse,  calmly.  "Now  be 
so  good  as  to  escort  roe  to  my  caniuge." 

"  Pray  give  me  vour  arm,  I  have  butone  more  observation  to  make. 
I  hope  that  you  will  now  be  able  to  prove  substantially  to  the  Emperor 
that  it  was  quite  useless  for  him  to  shelter  himself  behind  the  words,  '  I 
shall  claim  thee  in  heaven  !'  But  if  I  may  presume  so  far,  1  request 
that  you  will  defer  these  demonstrations  until  I  return  from  Rome  with 
r)\y  letters  of  divorce." 

Therese  had  no  strength  to  retort.  She  hunsi  down  her  head,  and 
large  scalding  tears  fell  from  her  eyes.  Count  Kinsky  placed  her  in  ihw 
carriage,  clo?ed  the  door,  and  then  returned  to  his  own  travelling-charioc 
which  was  a  fetv  paces  behind.  The  two  equipages  thundered  down  the 
streets  together,  but  at  the  gates  they  parted,  the  one  taking  the  road 
lor  Hungary,  the  oth<^r  for  Jiome.* 


Cri AFTER  XXXI V 


THE  LAST  DREAM  OF  Cf-ORY, 


Destiny  was  testing  the  fortitude  of  the  Emperor  with  unrelenting 
harshness.  It  would  seem  that  inflexible  Fate  was  standing  by,  while 
one  by  one,  this  man's  hopes  of  fame,  honor*  and  love  were  wrested 
away,  that  the  world  might  see  and  know  how  much  of  bitterness  and 
disappointment  it  is  in  the  power  of  one  human  heart  to  endure. 

•  This  ■wh^le  story  is  liistnrioal  The  "heavenly  Therese,"  as  sh«  is  called  by  TTormayr,  was 
really  married  and  thus  abandoned  by  her  husband,  who  persisted  in  believinir  thKtthe  connection 
between  herpelf  and  the  Emperor  was  not  guiltless.  But  the  Cuiint  met  with  no  auccess  in  the  mat- 
ter of  the  divorce  The  Pope  refused  it.  purbap*  because  h^  wislied  to  prove  to  rebellious  Austria 
the  power  of  the  Church.  Tears  passed  by  before  the  decree  was  obtained.  Finally  Therese  de- 
posed that  she  was  married  under  e  impulsion,  and  ih.it  the  sifirni  had  so  terrified  her  that  she  had 
been  almost  insensible  during  the  ceremony  80  much  so  thar.  Bishop  Leopold  Von  Thun  also 
deposed  that  he  hud  not  heard  her  assent  The«e  declarations  prov-ng  th<>  marriage  to  have  been 
invalid,  the  divorce  was  ffr"nted.  After  the  death  of  Joseph,  Therese  married  Count  M.-ix  Meer- 
voldt,  the  samp  who  in  179T  concluded  the  peace  of  CampoFormeo  with  Napoleon  — SoHormayr 
The  Kmperor  Fran?  and  Metternicli.    A  frngment     Page  180. 


In  N e til ei lands  und  in  Flungary  lie  was  ihroafoned  with  rebellion. 
*The  Magyar*!  c>"pecially  ii'sented  th«;  violati^'n  of  th(jir  constitutional 
rights;  in  Tyrol,  too,  the  people  were  disatlpcitd  ;  and  Rome  had  n«t 
yet  pardoned  him  the  many  indignities  .she  had  endured  at  his  hands. 
'ITjits  very  war,  which  he  had  welcomed  as  a  cure  for  his  domestic  sor- 
rows, WHS  yielding  him  naught  but  hunoyanoe  and  misery.  , 

Yes,  JJifistiny  had  decreed  that  nothing  which  he"  undertook  should 
prosper.  His  army  which  was  encamped  in  the  damp  marshes  that  lie 
between  the  Danube  and  Save,  was  atlaclced  by  a  malarious  fever  more 
destructive  by  far  than  the  bloodiest  strufrgle  tbat  ever  reddened  the 
field  of  battle.  The  hospitals  were  crowded  with  the  sick  and  dyini:, 
and  the  enfeebled  soldiers,  who  dragged  themselves  about  their  camps, 
wore  sullen  and  discontented  faces  ;  a  spirit  of  insubordination  was  1)6- 
ginning  to  manifest  itself  nmong  the  tioops,  aiid  the  very  men  who 
would  have  rushed  to  the  cannon's  wouth,  grew  cowardly  at  the  approach 
of  the  invisible  foe  who  stole  away  their  lives,  by  the  gradual  and  insidious 
poison  of  disease.  The  songs  and  jests  of  the  bivouac  were  hushed,  the 
white  tents  were  mournful  as  sepulchres,  and  the  men  lost  all  cotiddence 
in  fcheir  leaders.  They  now  accused  the  Emperor  and  Lacy  of  incapaci- 
ty, and  declared  that  they  must  either  be  disbanded  or  led  against  the 
enemy. 

This  wafi  precisely  what  Joseph  had  been  longing  to  do,  but  he  was 
coiftpellod  to  await  the  advance  of  the  Russians,  with  whom  it  had  been 
arranged  that  the  Austrians  were  to  make  a  junction  before  they  rnarch- 
ched  into  Turkey.  The  Russians,  howe\er,  had  never  joined  the  Em- 
peror ;  for  soJiie  misunderstanding  with  Sweden  had  compelled  the  Czar- 
ina to  defend  her  northern  frontier,  and  so  she  had  as  yet  been  unable 
to  assemble  an  army  of  sufiicient  strength  to  march  against  Turkey, 
.loseph  then  was  condemned  to  the  very  same  inaction  which  had  s() 
chafed  his  spirit  in  Bavaria,  for  his  own  army  of  itself  was  not  numer- 
ous enough  to  attack  the  enemy.  He  could  not  make  a  move  without 
Russia.  Russia  tarried,  and  the  fever  in  his  camp  grew  every  day  more 
Ifital. 

Instead  of  advancing,  the  heartsick  Emperor  w^as  forced  to  retreat. 
His  artillery  was  withdrawn  to  I'eterwardein,  and  the  siege  of  Belgrade 
entirely  relinquished.  Disease  and  death  followed  the  Austrians  to  their 
new  encampment,  and  louder  grew  the  mutterings  of  the  men,  and  more 
bitter  their  denunciations  of  the  Emperor. 

They  little  knew  that  while  they  were  assailed  by  physical  infirmities, 
their  hapless  chieftain  was  sick  both  in  body  and  mind.  He  shared  all 
their  hardships,  and  \vatch<'d  them  with  Tnost  unremitting  solicitude. 
He  erected  camp  hospitals,  atid  furnished  the  sick  with  wine  and  delica- 
cies which  he  ordered  from  Vienna  for  their  use.  All  military  etiquette 
was  suspended  ;  even  the  approach  of  the  Emperor  for  the  time  being 
was  to  be  ignored.  Those  who  were  lying  down  were  to  remain  lying, 
those  who  were  sitting  were  to  keep  their  seats. 

Meanwhile  Joseph  walked  daily  through  the  hospitals,  bestowing  care 


I'.j^  jriSKTH    rilK    -KCONM). 

and  kindneF;?!  \ipnn  all,  and  no  man  there  reraarUpJ  that  the  deadly  ma- 
];iria  had  ad'ected  hun  in  an  equal  de<5ree  with  his  troops.  Heat,  hard-^ 
ships  and  disappointment  had  done  their  work  as  eflectually  upon  the 
oomn^ander-in-chief  as  upon  the  common  soldier;  but  no  one  suspected, 
that  fever  was  consuming  his  life,  for  by  day.  Joseph  was  the  Providence 
of  his  army,  and  by  night,  while  his.mcti  were  sleeping,  he  was  attend- 
ing to  the  affiiirs  of  his  vast  empire.  He  worked  as  assiduousiy  in  camp 
as  he  had.  ever  done  ut  home  in  his  palace.  Every  important  measure 
of  the  Regency  was  i^ubmitted  to  him  for  approval;  the  heads  of  the. 
several  departments  of  st'ite  were  required  to  send  him  their  reports; 
and  n);iny  a  night,  surrounded  by  heaps  of  dispatches,  he  sat  at  his  little 
table,  in  the  swampy  woods,  whose  noxious  atmosphere  was  fitter  for 
the  snakes  that  infested  them  than  for  human  beings  of  whatever  condi- 
tion in  life.* 

One  little  ray  of  light  relieved  the  darkness  of  this  gloomy  period. 
This  was  the  taking  of  the  fortress  of  Sabacz  where  Joseph  led  the  assault 
in  person.  Three  cannoniers  were  shot  by  his  side,  and  their  blood  he- 
spattered  his  face  and  dress.  But  in  the  midst  of  danger  he  remained 
perfectly  composed,  and  for  many  a  day,  his  countenance  had  not  beam- 
ed with  an  e.xpression  of  sych  animated  delight.  This  success,  however, 
was  no  more  than  a  lightening  flash  relieving  the  darkness  of  a  tempest- 
uous night;  The  fortress  won,  the  Austrians  went  baok  to  their  raiser- 
able  encampment  in  the  sickly  morasses  of  Siebenbiirgen.  ;-. 

Suddenly  the  stagnant  quiet  was  broken  by  the  announcement  that 
the  Turks  had  crossed  the  Danube.  This  aroused  the  army  from  their 
sullen  stupor,  and  Joseph,  as  if  freed  from  an  incubus,  joyfully  prepared 
himself  for  action.  The  trumpet's  shrill  call  was  heard  in  the  camp,  and 
the  army  commenced  their  march.  They  had  advanced  but  a  few  miles 
when  they  were  met  by  several  panic-stricken  regiments,  who  announced 
that  the  Austrian  lines  had  been  broken  in  two  places,  that  General  Pa- 
pilla had  been  forced  to  retreat,  and  that  the  victorious  Turks  were  pour- 
ing their  vast  hordes  into  Plungary. 

Like  wildfire  the  tidings  spread  through  the  army,  and  they,  too,  be- 
gan their  retreat,  farther  and  yet  fiirther  back;  for  ever  as  they  moved 
they  were  lighted  on  their  way  by  the  burning  villages  and  towns  that 
were  the  tokens  of  a  barbarous  enemy's  approach.  The  homeless  fugi- 
tives, too,  rent  the  air  with  their  cries,  and  clamored  for  protection 
against  the  cruel  Infidel. — No  protection  could  they  find,  for  the  Aus- 
trians were  too  few  in  number  to  confront  the  devastating  hosts  of  the 
invading  army.  They  were  still  compelled  to  retreat  as  far  as  the  town 
of  Lugo.s,  where  at  last  they  might  rest  from  the  dreadful  fatigues  of  thi.s 
humiliating  flight.  With  inexpressible  relief,  the  boldiers  sQught  repose. 
They  were  ordered  to  sleep  on  their  arms  nevertheless,  so  that  the  artil- 
leryman was  by  his  cannon,  the  mounted  soldier  near  his  horse,  and  the 
infantry,  clasping  their  muskets,  lay  in  long  rows  together,  all  forgetting 

•  Fn  UiP  archivos  of  Vienna  is  preserved  a  dispatch  of  .Tnsepli's  wiitloii  in  Uie  open  wood*  on  tlf" 
Dii;tit  bftorn 'hr-  takinp.  rriS:ibaci  — Qro-ss-Kcffliitrer  S.  pag'i  404. 


S.SfPEKoH  OF    AUSTKIA,  i'.'Ai 

everyl,hing  save  the  iueraimaWlfi  blef\?iinf  of  rtrefching  Ihoir  limbs  aiuJ 
wooing  sleep.  The  inild  suiiim«ir  n'looii  looked  down  upon  their  rest, 
and  the  Emperor,  as  he  made  a  last  tour  of  inspection  to  satisfy  himself 
that  all  lights  were  extinguished,. rejoice^  to  think  that  the  Turks  were 
far  away,  and  his  tired  Austrians  could  sleep  secure. 

Joseph  returned  to  his  tent,  that  is,  his  caieche.  lie,  too,  was  ex- 
hausted, and  closed  his  (^yes  with  a  sense  of  delicious  languor.  The 
night-air  blowing  about  his  temples,  refreshed  his  fevered  brow,  and  he 
gave  himself  tip  to  dreams  such  as  are  inspired  b}'  the  silvered  atmos- 
phere, when  the  moon,  in  her  pearly  splendor,  looks  down  upon  the 
troubled  earth,  and  hushes  it  to  repose. 

The  Emperor,  however,  did  not  sleep.  For  a  while,  he  lay  \\ith  clos- 
ed eyes,  and  then  raising  himself,  looked  up  towards  the  heavens. 
Gradually  the  sky  darkened  ;  cloud  met  cloud  and  obscured  the  moon'a 
disk,  until  at  last  the  firmament  was  clothed  in  impenetrable  blackness. 
The  Emperor,  with  a  sad  smile,  thought  how  like  the  scene  had  been  to 
the  panorama  of  his  life,  wherein  every  star  had  set,  and  whence  every 
ray  of  light  had  fled  forever! 

He  dreamed  on  while  his  tired  men  slept.  Not  all,  however,  for  far 
towards  the  left  wing  of  the  army  a  band  of  huzzars  were  encamped 
around  a  wagon  laden  with  brandy,  and  having  much  more  confidence 
in  the  restorative  powers  of  liquor  than  of  sleep,  they  had.  been  invigo- 
rating themselves  with  deep  potations.  Another  company  of  soldiers 
in  their  neighborhood,  awakened  by  the  noisy  mirth  of  the  hnzzars,  canu^ 
forward  to  claim  their  share  of  the  brandy.  It  was  refused  and  a  brawl 
ensued,  in  which  the  assailants  were  repulsed. 

The  huzzars,  having  driven  them  from  the  field,  proceeded  to  celebrate 
their  victory  by  renewed  libations,  until  finally,  in  a  state  of  complete 
inebriation,  they  fell  to  the  ground,  and  there  slept  the  sleep  of  the  in- 
toxicated. 

'The  men  who  had  been  prevented  from  participating  in  these  drunken 
revels  resolved  to' revenge  themselves  by  a  trick.  They  crept  stealthily 
up  to  the  spot  where  the  huzzars  were.  Iving,  and  firing  off  their  mus- 
kets, cried  out,  "The  Turks  !  The  TurksV' 

Stupefied  by  liquor,  the  sleepers  sprang  up,  repeating  the  cry.  It  was 
caught  and  echoed  from  man  to  man,  while  the  huzzars  with  unsheathed 
sabres  ran  wildly  about,  until  hundreds  and  hundreds  were  awakened, 
«;ach  one  echoing  the  fearful  words, 

"The  Turks!     The  Turks  !" 

"Halt!  Halt!"  cried  a  voice  to  the  terrified  soldiers.  "Plait,  men, 
halt!" 

The  bewildered  ears  mistook  the  command  for  the  battle-cry  of  the 
Turks;  "Allah  !  Allah  !"  and  the  panic  increased  tenfold.  "  We  are  sur- 
rounded !"  shrieked  the  terror-strickcji  Austrians,  and  every  sabre  was 
drawn,  every  musket  cocked.  The  struggle  began;  and  the  screams  of 
the  combattants,  the  groans  of  the  wounded,  the  sighs  of  the  dying  filled 
the  air,  while  comrade  against  comrade,  brother  against  brother,  stood 


i  10  JuSF.ffi   TRF   .-iKfoM) 

in  mortnl  st.rifo  and  slew  r-ach  othei-  for  the  niiljolievin^  Tir.k. 

The  c;ilaiiiity  was  irretrievable.  The  darkness  of  the  night  deceived 
every  uuui  in  that  army,  not  one  of  whom  doubled  that  the  enen^y  v,';is 
r.here.  Some  of  the  teniified  sojdiers  (l^id  back  to  their  camps,  and  even 
there,  mistaken  for  Turks,  they  were  assaulted  with  sabre  and  musket, 
and  frightful  was  the  carnage  that  ensued  ! 

Jn  vain  the  oiricers  attempted  to  restore  discipline.  There  was  no 
more  reason  in  those  maddened  human  beinors  than  in  the  rnjiing  waves 
of  the  ocean.  The'Emperor,  at  the  first  alarm,  had  driven  in  his  caleche 
to  the  place  whence  the  sound  seemed  to  come. 

Cut  what  toa  panic  stricken  multitude  was  the  voice  of  their  Empe- 
ror'?  Ball  after  ball  whistled  past  his  ears,  while  he  vainly  strove  to 
make  them,  understand  that  they  were  each  one  slaying  his  brother  ! 
And  the  night  was  so  hideous,  so  relentless  in  its  darkness!  Not  one 
star  glimmered  upon  the  (ace  of  the  frightful  pall  above — the  stars  could 
not  look  upon  that  fratricidal  striiggle! 

The  fugitives  and  their  infuriated  pursuers  presided  towards  a  little 
bridge  which  spanned  a  stream  near  the  encampment.  The  Emperor 
drove  rapidly  around,  and  reached  the  banks  of  the  river  before  them, 
hoping  from  thence  to  be  heard  by  his  men,  and  to  convince  them  thati 
uo  Turks  were  V>y. 

But  they  heeded  the  sound  of  his  voice  no  more  than  the  sea  heeded 
that  of  the  royal  Canute.  They  precipitated  themselves  towards  the 
bridge,  driving  the  carriage  of  the  Emperor  before  them  to  the  very  edge 
of  the  steep  river- bank.  It  wavered  ;  they  pushed  against  it  with  the 
butt-ends  of  their  njuskets.  They  saw  nothing. — they  knew  nothing  save 
that  the  carriage  impeded  their  flight ! 

It  fell  rumbling  down  the  precipice  into  the  deep  vvaters,  which  bub- 
Wed  and  hissed  and  then  closed  over  it  forever.  No  man  heeded  its 
fall.  •  Not  one  of  all  that  crowd  which  oft  had  grown  hoarse  with  shouts 
at  his  coming,  paused  to  save  the  Emperor  from  destruction.  But  he, 
calm  and  courageous,  although  at  that  moment  he  could  have  parted 
with  life  without  a  sigh,  had  made  a  desperate  spring  backward,  and  had 
alighted  on  the  ground. 

When  he  recovered  from  the  violence  of  the  fall,  he  found  himself  un- 
hurt, but  alone.  Not  one  of  "his  suite  was  to  be  seen  ;  in  the  mad  rush 
i->f  the  men  for  the  crossing,  they  had  been  parted  from  him.  The  little 
rustic  bridge  hiid  fallen  in,  and  those  who  remained  behind,  had  rushed 
with  frantic  yells  in  search  of  some  other  crossing.  'J'he  Emperor  could 
hear  their  cries  in  the  distance,  and  they  filled  his  heart  with  anguish  in- 
expressible. 

With  desponding  eyes  he  gazed  upwards,  and  murmured,  "  O,  that  I 
could  die  before  the  sun  rises  upon  the  horrors  of  this  night!  My  soul 
is  weary — my  every  hope  dead.  Why  did  1  turn  back  when  death  was 
smiling  from  the  crystal  depths  of  that  placid  stream  !  Even  now,  I 
may  still  find  rest.  Who  will  ever  know  how  the  Emperor  met  his 
death? He  paused,  and  looked  around  to  see  if  anything  Avas  nigh. 


KMPKKUli    UK    ACSIPIA.  I  U 

Nothing — lie  made  one  step  forward,  then  shuddering,  recoiled  with  au 
oxclaniatiou  of  horror  at  his  miserable  cowardice. 

"  No  !"  cried  he  resolutely,  "  no  I  will  not*die — I  must  not — dare  not 
die.  I  cannot  go  to  the  yrave  misjudgec),  and  calumniated  by  my  owu 
.subjects  !  I  must  live  thtit  they  may  sooner  or  later  learn  how  faitbful- 
Jy  1  have  striven  to  make  ihein  haj>py  !  1  must  live  to  convince  them 
that  the  promotion  of  their  welfare  has  been  the  end  and  aim  uf  my 
whole  lili;  !* 

At  that  moment  there  was  a  rent  in  the  blackened  firmament,  and  the 
moon  emerged,  gradually  lighting  up  the  dark  waters,  and  the  lonply 
woods,  until  its  beams  shone  full  upon  the  pale,  agitated  features  of  that 
4:)roken  hearted  monarch  ! 

'•  The  Emperor !"'  cried  a  loud  voice,  not  far  awny.  "  The  Emperor !" 
— and  a  rider  galloping  forward  threw  himself  from  his  horse. 

"  Here,  your  Majesty,  here  is  my  horse.  Mount  him.  He  is  a  sure 
and  fleet  animal." 

"  You  know  me,  then  ?"  asked  Joseph. 

"Yes,  sire,  I  am  one  of  yonr  Majesty's  grooms.  Will  you  do  me 
the  honor  to  accept  my  horse  ?" 

The  Emperor  replied  by  swinging  himself  into  the  saddle.  "  But  you, 
uiy  good  fellow,  what  will  you  do  V' 

"  1  shall  accompany  your  Majesty,"  replied  the  groom,  cheerfully. 
"There  is  many  a  horse  seeking  its  master  to-night,  and  it  will  nor,  be 
long  before  I  capture  one.  This  done,  if  it  please  your  Majesty,  I  will 
conduct  you  to  Karansebes.  The  moon  has  come  out  beautifully,  and 
1  can  easily  find  the  way." 

"  1  have  found  my  way,"  murmured  the  Emperor  to  himself     "  God 
has  pointed  it  out  to  me,  by  sending  help  in    this  dark,  lonely  hour. — 
Well — Life  has  called  me  back,  and  I  must  bear  its  burthens  until  Hear' 
•  ven  releases  me." 

Just  then  a  horse  came  by  at  full  speed.  The  groom,  who  was  walk- 
ing by  the  Emperor's  side,  darted  forward,  seized  "the  reins,  and  swung 
himself  triumphantly  into  the  saddle. 

'^  "Now,  sire,"  said  he,  "  we  can  travel  lustily  ahead.     We  are  on  the 
right  road,  and  in  one  hour  will  reach  Karansebes." 

"Karansebes!"  mused  the  Emperor.  '"■  Cara  mihi  sedes !  '  Thus 
sung  Ovid,  and  from  his  ode,  a  city  took  her  name  ; — the  city  where  the 
poet  found  his  grave.  A  stately  monument  to  Ovid  is  Karansebes  ;  and 
now  a  lonely,  heart-sick  monarch  is  coming  to  make  a  pilgrimage  thith- 
er, craving  of  Ovid's  tomb  the  boon  of  a  resting-place  for  his  weary 
head.     O,  Cara  mihi  sedes,  where  art  thou  ?" 

In  the  gray  of  the  mormng  they  reached  Karansebes.  Here  they 
found  some  few  of  the  regiments,  the  Emperor's  suite,  and  his  beloved 
nephew,  Franz,  who  like  his  uncle,  had  been  almost  hurried  to  destruc- 
tion by  the  hapless  army,  but  had  been  rescued  by  his  bold  and  faithful 
followers.     Thev  had   shielded  the  Archduke  with  their  own  bodies, 

•Tbe  Emporor'B  own  words.    Hubncr  II.  p.  4S8. 


142  JOhiLi'ii  rHR.'SELO>r). 

forming  a  square  around  his  person,  and  escorting  him  so  guarded  until 
they  had  penetrated  the  dangerous  ranks  of  the  demented  fugitives.* 

All  danger  was  past,  bift  the  events  of  that  night  were  too  much  for 
the  exhausted  frame  of  the  Emperor.  The  ievcr  with  which  he  had 
wrestled  so  long,  now  mastered  his  body  with  such  violence  that  he  was 
no  longer  able  Lo  mount  his  horse.  Added  to  this  came  a  blow  to  his 
ho:irt.  The  army  refused  to  follow  him  any  longer.  They  called  loud- 
Jy  fui'  Loudon,  the  old  hero,  who  in  spite  of  his  years,  was  the  only  man 
ill  Austria  who  would  lead  them  to  victory. 

The  Emperor  stung  to  the  soul  by  the  mistrust  of  his  men,  gave  up 
his  last  hope  of  military  glory.  He  sent  tor  Loudon,  and  Loudon,  de- 
spite his  infirmities,  came  at  the  summons. 

The  old  hero  was  received  with  shouts  of  welcome.  The  huzzahs 
reached  the  poor,  mean  room,  where  Joseph  lay  sick  with  a  burning  fe- 
ver. He  listened  with  a  sad  smile,  but  his  courage  gave  way,  and 
scalding  tears  of  disappointed  ambition  moistened  his  pillow. 

'•  Loudon  has  con)e,"  thought  he,   "and    the   Emperor  is   forgotten! 

No  one  cares  for  him  more  ! Well — I   must  return  to  Vienna,  and 

pray  that  the  victory  and  fame  which  have  been  denied  to  me,  may  be 
vouchsafed  to  Loudon  !"  ^ 


CHAPTER   XXXV. 

THE    HUNGARIANS  AGAIN. 

Destiny  had  broken  the  Emperor's  heart.  He  returned  from  the  ar- 
my seriously  ill,  and  although  he  had  apparently  recuperated  during  the 
winter,  the  close  of  the  year  found  him  beyond  all  hope  of  recovery. 

Even  the  joyful  intelligence  of  Loudon's  victories  were  powerless  to 
restore  him  to  health.  Loudon  had  won  several  battles,  and  had  accom- 
plished that  for  which  Joseph  had  undertaken  the  war  with  Turkey.  He 
had  once  more  raised  the  Austrian  flag  over  the  towers  of  Belgrade.! 

Vienna  received  these  tidings  with  every  demonstration  of  joy.  The 
city  was  illuminated  for  three  days,  and  the  Emperor  shared  the  enthu- 
siasm of  the  people.  He  took  from  his  st*te-uniform  the  magnificent 
cross  of  IMaria  Theresa — the  cross  which  none  but  an  Emperor  had  ever 

•  Hubnc  2,  page  477 

t  The  conquest  of  Belgrade  was  accompanied  by  singular  coincidences  The  Emp<»ror  Francis, 
(the  husband  of  Maria  Theresa,)  had  been  in  command  when,  in  1739,  the  Turks  took  rt  from  Aus- 
tria. His  grandson,  Francis,  with  his  own  hand  flred  the  first  gun,  when  it  was  re-taken  by  Lon- 
don. In  1789  General  Wallace  Rurrendprcd  thp  fortress  to  Osman  Pacha.  In  1789  Osman  I'ncha, 
th"  SOD  of  the  latte"-,  surrendered  it  to  General,  afterwards  Field-marshal  Wallace,  sou  of  (lie  for- 
mer — Hubner  2,  papo  492. 


JiMT'KI;OK    OF   AlbTRlA.  I  ['-l 

worn,  nnd  sent  it  to  London  wilh  the  title  and  patent  of  Generalissimo.* 
He  ;itlended  ihe  Tc  Deum,  and  tr>  all  appearancos,  was  as  clatrul  as  his 
Mibjp.ct.s.  Hut  once  alone  with  Lacy,  the  mask  Icil,  and  the  smile  ladi-d 
iVoni  his  CfiJorless  lip«. 

•'  Lacy,"  said  he,  "  I  wonld  bare  bought  ihosg  ]n.sL  superfluous  laurels 
of  Loudon  with  my  life,  liut;  for  me  no  laurels  have  ever  grown  ;  the. 
cyprt'ss  is  my  emblem — the  emblem  of  <rri<'f." 

Ho  was  ri^ht.  Discontent  reigned  in  Hungary,  in  Netherlands,  and 
latterly,  in  'J'yrol.  On  every  side  were  rnurinurs  and  threats  of  rebel- 
lion against,  him  who  would  have  devoted  every  hour  of  his  life  to  the 
enli^hlment  of  his  subjects.  All  Belgium  had  taken  up  arms.  The  im- 
perial troops  had  joined  the  insurgents,  and  now  a  formidable  army 
threatened  the  Emperor.  Van  der  Noot,  the  leader  of  the  revolt,  pub- 
lished a  manifest  declaring  Belgium  independent  of  the  Austrian  empire. 
The  insurgents  numbered  ten  thousand.  They  were  headed  by  the  no- 
bles and  sustained  by  the  clergy.  Masses  were  said  for  the  success  of 
the  rebels,  and  requiems  were  sung  for  those  who  fell  in  battle  or  oth- 
ei  wise  f  The  cities  of  Brussels,  Antwerp,  Lou  vain,  Mechlin  and  Namur 
opened  their  doors  to  the  patriots.  The  Austrian  General  D  Alton  fled 
with  his  troops  to  Luxembourg,  and  three  millions  of  florins,  belonging 
to  the  military  coffers,  fell  into^he  hands  of  the  insurgents. | 

Such  was  the  condition  of  the  Austrian  empire,  towards  the  close  of 
the  year  178;^  The  Emperor  resolves!  to  make  oiie  more  attempt  to 
bring  the  Belgians  to  reason,  and  to  this  end  he  sent  Count  Cobenzl  to 
Brussels,  and  after  him,  Prince  de  Ligne. 

The  Prince  came  to  take  leave  of  the  Emperor.  '•  1  send  you  as  me- 
diator between  myself  and  your  countrymen,"  said  Joseph  with  a  lan- 
guid smile.  '•  Prove  to  those  so-called  patriots  thatf  you,  who  endeavor  Icr 
reconcile  them  to  their  Sovereign,  are  the  only  Belgian  of  them  all,  who 
possesses  true  patriotism." 

"  Sire,  I  shall  say  to  my  misguided  countrymen  that  1  have  seen  your 
Majesty  weep  over  their  disloyalty.  I  shall  tell  them  that  it  is  not  an- 
ger which  they  have  provoked  in  your  Majesty's  heart,  but  sorrow." 

"  Yes,"  replied  Joseph,  "  I  sorrow  for  their  infxtuation,  aud  they  are 
fast  sending  me  to  the  grave.  The  taking  of  Ghent  was  my  death- 
struggle,  the  evacuation  of  Brussels  my  last  e.xpiring  sigh.  Oh  !"  con- 
tinued he,  in  tones  of  extreme  anguish,  "  Oh,  what  humiliation  !  I  shall 
surely  die  of  it !  I  were  of  stone  to  survive  so  many  blows  from  the 
hand  of  fate  ! — Go,  de  Ligne,  and  do  your  best  to  induce  your  country- 
men to  return  to  their  allegiance.  Should  you  fail,  dear  friend,  remain 
there.     Do  not  sacrifice  your  future  to  me,  for  you  have  children. "§ 

"  Yes,  sire,"  replied  de  Ligne,  with  emotion,  "1  have  children,  but. 
they  are  not  dearer  to  me  than  my  Sovereign.     And  now,  with  your 

•  Thi?"  cross  was  wortli  24,000  ducats — Gr^fs-Hoffingor  3,  page  500. 
t  Gross-Hrtffinger  .S,  page  2S9. 

t  D'A'ton  wascitod  before  the  Emperor,  but  on  his  way  to  Vicrna  uc  took  poison,  and  died  fo'ir 
days  before  .lo.'it'ph. 
§  The  Kmpcror's  own  words     Oouvrea  du  Priuce  ic  Ligiie 


1  1-i  JOSEi'H  TH£   SECWND. 

Majesty's  permijssion,  I  will  withdraw,  for  the  hour  of  my  departure  is 
at  hand.     I  do  not  despair  of  success.     Farevyell,  sire,  for  awhile." 

"  Farewell  forever,"  murmured  Joseph,  as  the  door  closed  behind  tke 
Prince.     "  Death  is  not  far  oft"  and  I  have  so  much  to  do!" 

iJe  rose  hastily  fioni  his  arm-chair,  and  opening  the  door  that  led  into 
the  chancery,  called  his'three  Secretaries. 

"  Let  us  to  work,"  said  he,  as  they  entered. 

"  Sire,"  replied  one  of  them  in  faltering  tones,  "  Herr  Von  Quario  de- 
sired us  in  his  name  to  implore  of  your  Majesty  to  rest  for  a  few  days." 

"  I  cannot  do  it,"  said  Joseph  impatiently.  "  If  I  postpone  this  wri- 
ting another  day,  it  may  never  be  accomplished  at  all.  Give  in  your  re- 
ports.    What  dispatches  have  we  from  Hungary?" 

"  They  are  most  unsatisfactory,  sire.  The  landed  proprietors  have 
refused  to  contribute  their  share  of  the  imposts,  and  the  people  rebel 
against  the  conscription-act,  and  threaten  the  officers  of  the  crown  with 
death." 

'•Revolt,  revolt  everywhere  !"  exclaimed  the  Emperor  shuddering. 
*'  But  I  will  not  yie.ld  ;  they  shall  all  submit !" 

The  door  of  the  cabinet  opened  and  the  Marshal  of  the  Household  en- 
tered, announcing  a  deputation  of  Magyars. 

"  A  deputation  !     From  whom  ?"  askpd  Joseph  eagerly. 

"  I  do  not  know,  sire,  but  Count  Palfy  is  one  of  the  deputies." 

"  Count  Palfy  again  !"  cried  t^e  Emperor  scornfully.  "  When  the 
Hungarians  have  a  sinister  message  to  send,  they  are  sure  to  select  Count 
Palfy  as  their  ambassador.  Show  them  to  the  reception-room  which 
opens  into  my  cabinet.  Count.     I  will  see  them  there." 

He  dismissed  the  Secretaries  and  rang  for  his  valet.  He  could  scarce- 
ly stand,  while  Giinther  was  assisting  him  to  change  his  dressing  gown 
for  his  uniform.  His  toilet  over,  he  was  obliged  to  lean  upon  the  valet 
lor  support,  for  his  limbs  were  almost  foiling  him. 

'•  0  !"  cried  he  bitterly,  "  how  it  will  rejoice  them  to  see  me  so  weak 
and  sick.  They  will  go  home  and  tell  their  Hungarians  that  there  is  no 
strength  left  ia  me  to  fight  with  traitors!  But  thoy  shall  not  know  it, 
1  joill  be  the  Emperor  if  my  life  pay  the  forfeit  of  the  exertion.  Lead 
me  to  the  door,  Giinther,  I  will  lean  against  one  of  the  pillars  and 
btand  while  I  give  audience  to  the  Magyars." 

Giinther  supported  him  tenderly  to  the  door,  and  then  threw  it  wide 
open.  In  the  reception-room  stood  the  twelve  deputies,  not  in  court- 
dress  but  in  the  resplendent  costume  of  their  own  nation.  .They  were 
the  same  men  who  several  years  before  had  appeared  before  the  Em- 
peror, and  Count  Palfy,  the  Chancellor  of  Hungary,  was  the  first  one  to 
advance. 

The  Emperor  bent  his  head,  and  eyed  his  visitors. 

"  If  I  am  not  mistaken,"  said  he,  "  these  are  the  same  geotlsraen  who 
apppared  here  as  Hungarian  deputies  several  years  ago." 

"  Yes,  sire,  we  are  the  same  men,"  replied  Count  Palfy. 

"  Why  are  you  here  again?" 


KMfFKOr.    OV     AlSTKiA.  1 -lo 

"To  repeat  our  remonstrances,  sire.  Tlie  kingJom  of  IJungary  has 
chosen  the  same,  representatives  that.  y>ur  Mnjesiy  may  see  how  unalte- 
rable is  our  detenu ination  to  defend  our  lights  with  our  lives.  ITunca- 
ry  has  not  changed  her  attitude,  sire,  and  sfie  will  never  change  it.'' 

"  Nor  shall  I  ever  clinniie  mine,"  criod  Joseph  pa9i?ionately.  "My 
will  to-day  is  the  same  as  it  was  six  yeais  ago." 

"Then,  sire,  \ou  must  e.xpect  an  uprising  of  the  whole  Hungarian  ra- 
tion," returned  Count  Palfy,  gravely.  ''  For  the  last  time  we  implore 
your  Majesty  to  restore  us  our  rights." 

"  What  do  you  call  your  right^s?"  asked  Joseph  sarcastically. 

"  All  that  for  centuries  past  has  been  guaranteed  to  us  by  our  consti- 
tution :  all  tliat  each  king  of  Hungary,  as  he  came  to  the  throne,  has 
sworn  to  preserve  inviolate.  Sire,  we  will  not  become  an  Austrian  pro- 
vince: we  are  Hungarians,  and  are  r^'solved  to  retain  our  natioualitv. 
The  integrity  of  Hungary  is  sorely  threatened,  and  if  your  Majesty  re- 
fuse to  rescue  it,  we  must  ourselves  hasten  to  the  rescue.  Not  only  our 
liberties  are  menaced,  but  our  monied  interests  too.  Hungary  is  on  the 
road  to  ruin,  if  your  Majesty  does  not  consent  to  revoke  your  arbitrary 
laws,  or " 

•'  Or  1" asked  Joseph,  as  Palfy  hesitated. 

"  On  the  road  to  revolution,"  replied  the  deputy  firmly. 

"  You  presume  to  threaten  me  !"  cried  Joseph  in  aloud  voice. 

"  1  dare  deliver  the  message  entrusted  to  me,  and,  had  /  been  too 
weak  to  speak  it,  entrusted  to  those  who  accompany  me.  Is  it  not  «o 
Magyars  ?" 

"  It  is,  it  is,"  cried  all,  unanimously. 

"  Sire,  I  'repeat  to  you  that  Hungary  is  advancing  cither  towards  ruin, 
or  revolution.  Like  the  Netherlanders,  we  will- defend  our  constitution 
or  die  with  it.  O,  your  Majesty,  all  can  yet  be  remedied  !  Call  a  con- 
vention of  the  States — return  the  crown  of  St.  Stephens,  and  come  to 
Hungary  to  take  the  coronation-oath — Then  you  will  see  how  gladly  we 
shall  swear  allegiance  to  our  King,  and  how  cheerfully  we  will  die  for 
him,  as  our  fathers  did  before  us,  in  defence  of  the  Empress-queen  his 
mother." 

"Give  us  our  constitution  and  we  will  die  for  uur  King  !"  cried  the 
Magyars  in  chorus. 

"Yes! — humble  myself  before  you,"  exclaimed  Joseph  furiousJv. 
''  You  would  have  the  Sovereign  to  bow  before  the  will  of  his  vassals  !" 

"  No,  sire,"  returned  Count  Palfy,  with  feeling.  We  would  have  vour 
Majesty  adopt  the  only  means  by  which  Hungary  can  be  retained  to  the 
Austrian  Empire.  If  you  refuse  to  bear  us,  we  rise  to  defend  our  coun- 
try, as  one  man.     We  swear  it  in  the  name  of  the  Hungarian  nation." 

"  We  swear  it  in  the  name  of  the  Hungarian  nation  !"  echoed  the 
Magyars. 

"  And  I,"  replied  Joseph  pale  and  trembling  with  passion,  "  J  swear  it, 
in  the  name  of  niy  dignity  as  your  Sovereign,  that  1  will  never  vield  to 
men  who  defy  me,  nor  will  I  over  forgive  those  who  by  treasonable  im- 
portunity have  sought  to  wring  from  me  what  1  have  not  thought  it  ex- 
pedient to  grant  to  respectful  expostulation  !" 


].].•:>  JOSKFB   THE   SECUNJX 

"  Sire,  if  you  would  give  this  proof  of  love  to  your  subjects,  if  for  their 
sakes  you  would  condescend  to  forget  your  imperial  station,  you  cannot 
conceive  what  enthusiasm  of  loyalty  -would  be  your  return  for  this  con- 
cession. We  await  yourlinal  answci  in  mortal  ai)xiety,  and  await  it 
until  to  niorrov/  at  this  hour." 

''^h! — You  are  so  magnanimous  a:s  to  grant  me  a  short  reprieve !" 

shouted  the  infuriated  Eulperor,  losing  all  command  of  himself,  '•  You 
1) 

Suddenly  he  ceased,  and  became  very  pale.  lie  was  sensible  that  he 
had  burst  a  blood-vessel,  and  he  felt  the  warm  stream  of  his  life  welling 
upwards,  until  it  moistened  his  pallid  lips.  With  a  hasty  inoveraent  he 
drew  out  his  handkerchief,  held  it  for  a  moment  before  his*  mouth,  and 
then  replaced  it  quickly  in  his  hu^o!^.  Large  drops  of  cold  sweat  stood 
out  from  his  brow,  and  the  light  faiJcJ  from  his  eyes.  But  these  haugh- 
ty Ma'\yars  should  not  see  him  fall !  They  should  not  enjoy  the  sight 
of  bis  sufferitigs  !  " 

With  one  last  desperate  eflbrt  he  collected  his  expiring  energies,  and 
stood  erect.  '"Go,"  said  he  in  firm,  distinct  tones,  "  you  have  stated 
your  grievances,  you  shall  have  my  answer  to-morrow," 

"  We  await  your  Majesty  until  to-morrow  at  noon,"  returned  Count 
■Palfy.     "  Then  we  go,  never  to  return." 

"  Go,"-  cried  the  Emperor,  in  a  piercing  voice,  and  the  exasperated 
Magyars  mistook  this  last  cry  of  agony  fur  theculmination  of  his  wrath. 

They  bowed  in  sullen  silence,  and  left  the  room. 

The"  Emperor  reeled  back  to  his  cabinet,  and  fell  into  a  chair.  He 
reached  the  bell,  and  rang  it  feebly. 

"  Gtinther,"  said  he  to  his  valet,  and  now  his  voice  was  hardly  audi- 
ble, "  send  a  carriage  for  Quarin.     I  must  see  him  at  once." 


CHAPTER  XXXV !. 

THE    KKV0CATI0>'. 

When  Quarin  entered  the  Emperor's  cabinet,  he  found  him  quietly 
seated  before  his  escritoire,  half  buried  in  documents.  The  physician 
remained  standing  at  the  door,  waiting  until,  he  sho;ild  be  ordered  to  ap- 
proach. 

Suddenly  Joseph  was  interrupted  in  his  writing  by  a  spell  of  cough- 
ing.. He  dropped  his  pen  and  leaned  back  exhausted.  Quarin  hastened 
to  his  side. 

"  Your  Majesty  must  not  write,"  said  he  gravely.  "  You  must  lay 
aside  all  work  for  a  time." 

"  I  believe  that  1  shall  have  to  lay  it  aside  forever,"  replied  Joseph 
jan<yuidly.     "  I  sent  for  you  to  say  that  I  have  a  lawsuit  with  my  lungs, 

and  you  must  tell  me  which  of  us  is  to  gain  it."* 

•  Joaev'h's  own  wordt.    Ghariclerislics  of  Josfpli  II,  page  14, 


SMf'KKOK    OT     ^LSTRI' 


ii: 


"  What  am  1  to  tell  your  Majesty  V  asked  the  physician  disturbed. 
The  Eropeior  looked  up  with   eyes   which  glowed    with  tlie  fl.miing 
liuht,  of  fever,     "  Qiiarin,   you   understand   me   perfectly.      Yon   must 
lell  ine.  in  regard  to  this  lawsuit  with  my  lungs,  which  is  to  gain  it,  my- 
self or  dealh?     Here  is  my  evidence," 

Willi  these  word-^  he  drew  out  hi^  handkerchief  and  held  it  open  be- 
tween his  vf&n,  trinisp;irtnt  hands.     It  was  died  in  blood. 

"  Hlood  !"  exclaimed  Quarin,  in  a  tone  of  alarm.  "  Your  Waj»-ty  has 
received  a  Monnd  ?  ' 

"  Yes.  an  interior  wound.  The  Hungarians  have  dealt  me  my  death- 
blow. This  hk)od  is  welling  up  from  u  wounded  heart.  Do  not  look 
so  mournful,  docti^r.  Let  us  speak  of  death  as  man  to  man.  Look  at 
me  now,  and  say  whether  my  malady  id  incurable." 

'•  Why  should  it  be  incurable'?"  asked  the  physician  faltering.  "You 
are  voung,  sire,  and  have- a  sound  constitution." 

"No  eommonplaces,  Quarin,  no  equivocation,''  cried  Joseph  impa- 
tientlv.  "  1  must  have  the  truth,  do  you  hear  me?  Tho  truth.  1  can- 
not aflurd  to  be  surprised  by  death,  fi.r  I  must  provide  for  a  nation,  and 
iny  house  must  be  set  in  order.  I  am  not  afiiiid  of  death,  my  friend,  it 
(Mimes  to  me  in  the  smiling  guise  of  a  lil>erat.or.  Therefore,  be  frank, 
iU'.d  tell  nie  at  Duoe  whether  my  malady  is  dangerous," 

Ajjiiii  he  raised  his  largi-,  brilliant  eyes  to  the  face  of  the  physician. 
Qiiaiii.'s  features  were  convulsed  with  distress,  and  tear^  stood  in  his 
vyi-<.     His  voice  was  very  tremulous  as  he  replied, 

'•  Yes,  sire,  it  is  dangerous." 

The  Emperor's  countenance  remained  perfectly  calm.  '=  Can  you  tell 
me,  with  any  degree  of  precision,  how  Ipng  I  have  to  live?"' 

"  No,  sire,,  yoii  may  live  yet  for  several  weeks,  or  some  excitement 
may  put  an  end  to  your  existence  in  a  few  days.     In  this  malady,  the 
**.      patiiMit  must  be  prepared  at  any  moment  for  death." 

"  Then  it  is  incurable  ?" 

"  Ye«.  sire,"  faltered  Quarin,  his  tears  bursting  forth  afresh. 

The  Emperor  looked  thoughtfully  before  him,  and  for  some  time  kept 
silence.  Then  extending  his  hand  with  a  smili*  he  said,  "From  ray 
t^oul  1  thank  you  for  the  manly  frankness  with  which  you  have  treated 
ine,  Quarin,  and  I  desire  now  to  give  you  a  tcstii;nony  of  my  gratitude. 
You  have  children,  have  you  not  ?" 

'•  Yes,  siie — two  daughters." 

"  And  you  are  not  rich,  1  helicve  V 

"The  salary  which  I  receive  from  yoyr  Majesty,  united  to  my  prac- 
tice, allords  us  a  comfortable  independence." 

The  Emperor  nodded.  "You  must  do  a  little  commission  for  me," 
paid  he,  turning  to  the  escritoire  and  writing  a  few  lines,  which  he  pre- 
sented to  Quarin. 

"  Take  this  paper  to  the  Court  Chancery  and  present  it  to  the  Bureau 
of  Finances.  You  will  there  receive  ten  thousand  florins  wherewith  to 
portion  your  daughters," 

"  O,  sire !"  exclaimed  Quarin,  deeply  moved.  "  I  thank  you  with  all 
the  strength  of  mv  naterral  heart," 


)  4s  JuSKFii    lit  K    Shi  I'NJ  , 

"  >fo,"  replie<3  Josepli  gently,  "it  is  ray  duly  tx)  roward  merit."*  In 
.iddition  to  this  T.  would  wish  to  leave  you  a  personal  souvenir  of  my 
trieiidship.  I  bestow  upon  you,  as  a  last  token  of  my  affection,  the  title 
of  Freiherr^  and  1  will  take  out  the  patent  \'ov  you  niyselt'.  Not  a  word, 
<iear  Iriend,  not  a  word !  "Leave  me  now,  for  I  must  work  diligently. 
Since  my  hours  are  numbeied,  [  must  make  the  most  of  ihem.  Fare- 
well !     \Vrio  knows  how  soon  I  may  have  to  leoall  you  here  V 

The  physician  kissed  the  Emperor's  hand  with  fervor,  and  turned  has- 
tily away.  Joseph  sank  baek  in  the  chair.  ITis  lar<,'c  eyes  were  raised 
10  heaven,  and  his  wan  face  beamed  wiih  something  brighter  than  resig- 
nation. 

At  that  moment,  the  doi.ir  of  the  chancery  was  opened  and  the  first 
privy-counsellor  came  hastily  forward. 

"  What  is  it?"  said  Joseph,  with  a  slight  start. 

'•Sire,  two  couriers  have  just  arrived.  The  first  is  fron\  Count  Co- 
benzl.  He  announces  that  all  CclgiuDi,  with  the  exception  of  Luxem- 
burg, is  in  the  hands  of  the  patriots ;  that  Van  der  Noot  has  called  a 
convention  of  the  United  Provinces,  which  has  declared  Belgium  a  re- 
j)ablic,  her  independence  is  to  be  guaranteed  by  England,  Prussia  and 
Flolland.  Count  Cobenzl  is  urgent  in  his  reqne.si  for  instructions.  He 
is  touilly  at  a  loss  what  to  do."' 

'I'he  Eniperor  had  listened  with  mournful  tranquility.  "  .\ndthesec- 
viud  courier?"  said  be. 

"The  second  courier,  sire,  comes  from  the  imperial  Stadtholder  of 
Tyrol.;' 

*  VVhat  says  he  ?'  . 

,'\IIe  brings  evil  tidings,  sire.  The  people  have  rebelled,  and  cry  out 
against  the  conscription,  and  the  church- reforms.  tTnless  these  laws  are 
repealed,  there  is  danger  tif  revolution." 

The  Emperor  uttered  a  piercing  cry  and  pre.«sed  his  hands  to  his  breast. 
"  It  is  nothing,"  said  he  in  reply  to  the  anxious,  and  alarmed  looks  of 
the  privy. couijsellor.  "  A.  momentary  pang,  which  has  already  passed 
away — nothing  more.     Continue  your  report." 

"This  is  all,  your  Majesty.  The  Stadtholder  entreats  you  to  quiet 
this  rebellion  and " 

"  And  to  revoke  my  decrees,  is  it  not  so  ?  The  same  croaking  which 
for  eight  years  has  been  dinned  into  my  ears.  Well — I  must  have  time 
to  reflect,  and  as  soon  as  I  shall  have  determined  upon  my  course  of  ac- 
tion, you  shall  learn  my  decision " 

*'  Rebellion  in  Tyrol,  in  Hungary,  in  the  Netherlands  !"  murmured 
the  Emperor  when  he  found  himself  alone.  "  From  every  side  I  hear 
my  dcath-knell !  My  people  would  bury  me  ere  I  have  drawn  my  last 
sigh.  My  great  ancestor,  Charles,  stood  beside  his  open  grave,  and  vol- 
untarily contemplated  his  last  resting-place;  but  I !  unhappy  monarch, 
am  forced  into  mine  by  the  ingratitude  of  a  people  for  whom  alone  I 
have  lived  ! — Is  it  indeed  sol  Must  I  die  with  the  mournful  convictioa 
ib.at  I  have  lived  in  vain?  O,  my  God,  what  e.xcess  of  humiliation  thou 
hast  forced  upon  me !     And  what  hMve  I  done  to  deserve  such  a  fate  \ 

'Tbefi?  are  thp  Kmp9ror''fi  worHe.    Tlii?  scene  is  bistyricfti-    Hubner  If,  "j   49C. 


Wherein  have  1  sinned  that  my  imperial  crown  should  have  been  lined 
with  feo  many  cruel  thorns  '?  Is  there  no  remedy — must  I  drink  this  last, 
bitter  chalice?  Must  I  revoke  that  which  I  have  published  to  the  world 
as  my  sovereign  will !' 

He  ceased,  and  foldiug  his  arms,  faced  his  difficult  position.  For  one 
hour  he  sat  in,otionless,  his  face  growing  gradually  paler,  his  brow  dark- 
er, yiis  lips  wore  rigidly  compressed  together. 

At  Icgiith  he  heaved  one  long,  oouvul&ive  sigh.  "  No — there  is  no 
other  remedy.  1  hav**  toiled  iu  vain— My  beautiful  structure  has  fallen, 
and  my  yrave  is  urrder  its  ruins!  O  my  God,  why  may  1  not  have  a 
few  months  more  of  life,  wherewith  to  crush  these  as[.iiring  rebels? — 
But  no  ! — I  must  die  now,  and  leave  them  to  triumph  over  my  defeat ; 
fur  I  dare  not  leave  to  my  succes.-or  the  af^cursed  inheritance  of  civil 
war.  To  the  last  hour  of  my  life  I  must  humble  my  will  before  the  de- 
(  ices  of  that  cruel  destiny  which  has  per.^ecuted  me  from  boyhood  !  IJe 
,,  so  ! — 1  must  clutch  at  the  remedv — the  fearful  remedy — I  uiust  re- 
voke !" 

fie  shuddered,  and  covered  his  face  with  his  hands.  There  had  been 
one  struggle  with  his  will,  there  was  now  another  with  his  despair.  He. 
moaned  aloud — scalding  tears  trickled  thiough  his  poor,  wasted  fingers, 
and  his  whole  being  bowed  before  the  sujwcmacy  of  this  last,  great  sor- 
?<>w.  Once — only  once,  he  uttered  a  sharp  cry,  and  lor  a  moment  his 
t  ouvulsed  countenance  was  raised  to  heaven.  Then  his  head  fell  upon 
the  table,  and  his  wretchedness  found  vent  in  low,  heart-rendering  subs. 

And  thus  he  spent  another  long  hour.  Finally  he  looked  up  to  heav- 
en and  tried  to  murmur  a  lew  words  of  resignation.  But  the  spectre  of 
his  useless  stiivings  still  haunted  his  jiiind.  "All  my  plans  to  be  buried 
in  the  grave — not  one  trace  of  my  reigu  left  to  posterity  !"  sighed  the 
unhappy  monarch.  "  But  enough  of  repining,  I  have  resolved  to  make 
the  sacrifice — it  is  time  to  act !" 

He  clutched  his  bell,  and  ordered  a  page  to  summon  the  privy-coun- 
sellor frour  the  adjoining  room. 

"  Now,"  said  the  Emperor,  "  let  us  work.  My  hand  is  too  tremulous 
to  hold  a  pen,  you  mus't  write  for  me— First  in  regard  to  Hungary. 
Draw  up  a  manifest  in  which  I  restore  their  constitution  in  all  its  integ- 
rity." 

lie  paused  for  a  few  moments,  and  wiped  the  large  drops  of  cold 
sweat  which  were  gathering  over  his  forehead.  "  Do  you  hear?"  con- 
tinued he,  "1  revoke  all  my  laws  except  one,  and  that  is,  the  edict  of  re- 
ligious toleration.  I  promise  to  convoke  the  imperial  diet,  and  to  re- 
place the  administration  of  justice  upon  its  old  footing.  1  repeal  the 
laws  relating  to  taxes  and  conscription.  I  order  the  Hungarian  crown 
to  be  returned  to  Ofen,  and  as  soon  as  I  shall  have  recovered  from  my 
illness,  I  promise  to  take  the  coronation-oath  *  Write  this  out  and  bring 
it  to  me  for  signature.  Then  deliver  it  into  the  hands  of  Count  Pulfy. 
He  will  publish  it  to  the  Hungarians." 

"  So  much  for  Hungary  !— Now  for  Tyrol.     Draw  up  a  second  man- 

•  Ihis  is  the  revocati'^n-edict,  which  promu'gaied  a  few  w<>el;s  before  the  Qoath  of  .Joseph,  caused 
such  astonifhmeul  thvonghont  Furope,    Gross-HofTins^PTS,  pa^e  "'•'f^- 


^'^^  lOHF.FH    IHE   .^Ktf).\!j. 

ifest.  i  repeal  the  conscripiion-act,  as  well  as  all  my  reforms  with  respect 
to  Mie  Church.  When  this  is  ready,  brinp:  it  to  me  for  signature :  and 
dispatcli  a  courier  with  it  to  the  imperial  Stadiholder.  Huvintr  satisfied 
die.  exactions  of  Hungary  and  Tyrol,  it  remains  to  restore  order  in  the 
Aelherlands.  But  there,  matters  are  mure  complicated,  and  I  fear  that 
.lo  concession  on  my  part  will  avail  at  this  late  hour.  1  must  trample 
my  personal  pride  in  the  dust  then,  and  humble  myself  befure  the  Pope  ' 

4  [-^ore  M^  Pojje.  I  will  write  requesting  him  to  act  as  mediator, 
aud  beg  Ins  Holiness  to  admonish  the  cle.-y  to  maive  peace  with  me.* 
W  hy  do  you  look  so  sad,  my  friend  ?  1  am  making"  my  peace  with  the 
^v•orJd  ;  I  am  drawing  a  pen  across  the  events  of  my  life,  and  blotting 
out  my  reforms  with  ink— Muke  out  these  documents  at  once,  and  send 
me  a  courier  for  Rome.  Meanwhile  1  will  write  to  the  Pope.  Appear- 
m<:  before  him  as  .-i  petitioner,  it  is  incumbent  upon  me  to  send  an  auto- 
graphic letter.     Return  to  me  in  an  hour.'' 

When  one  hour  later,  the  private-counsellor  re-entered  the  cabinet  the 
etter  to  the  Pupe  lay  folded  and  addressed  on  tiie  table.  But  this'last 
humiliation  had  been  too  much  for  the  proud  spirit  of  the  Emperor  to 
brook.  *■ 

He  l:iy  insensible  in  his  chair,  a  stream  of  blood  oozln<T  slowly  from 
his  ghastly  lip--.  ■  4  =>  / 


CHAPTEli   XXXVII. 

THE  DEATH'  OF  THE  MARTVK. 

He  had  made  his  peace  with  the  world  and  with  God  !     He  had  taken 
eave  of  his  fimily,  his  friends,  and  his  atcendants.     He  had.  made  his 
last  confession,  and  had  received  the  sacraments  of  the  Chu\h. 

His  struggles  were  at  an  end.  All  sorrows  overcome,  he  lay  happy 
and  tranquil  on  his  death-bed,  no  more  word  of  complaint  passing  the 
Jips  which  had  been  consecrated  to  the  Lord.  He  comforted  his  weep- 
ing relatives,  and  had  a  word  of  affectionate  greeting  for  every  one  who 
approached  him.  With  his  own  feeble  hand  he  wrote  farewell  letters  to 
all  his  absent  sisters,  to  Prince  Kaunitz,'and  to  several  ladies  for  whom 
he  had  an  especial  regard,  and  on  the  seventeenth  of  February  he  slaa- 
ed  his  name  eighty  times.  " 

He  felt  that  his  end  was  verv  near;  and  when  Lacy  and  Rosenberg 
\yho  were  to  pass  the  night  with  him,  entered  his  bed-chamber,  he  signed 
them  to  approach. 

^  "  It  will  soon  be  over,"  whispered  he.  "  The  lamp  will  shortly  be  ex- 
tinguished. Hush,  do  not  weep— you  grieve  me.  Let  us  part  from  each 
other  with  fortitude." 

"  Alas,  how  can  we  part  with  fortitude,  when  our  parting  is  for  life '" 
said  Lacy.  *^  .      " 

•  Orosfl-Trnfflnsjpr  S,  pa»t  ?T0.  ' 


SMI-KKUK    OK    AUSTRIA.  151 

The  Emperor  raised  his  eyps,  and  looked  thouchtfnily  up  to  heaven. 
"  Wc  shall  meet  a^ain,"  said  he  after  a  pause.  /•'  I  believe  in  another* 
and  a  better  world,  where  I  shall  fiud  compensation  lor  all  that  1  havj 
endured  here  below." 

"  And  whe)e  punishment  .nwaits  those  who  have  b?en  the  cause  of 
your  sorrows,"  relumed  itosenberg. 

"  \  have  forgiven  them  all,"  said  the  dying  monarch. 
"There  is  no  room  in  tny  heart  fur  resentment,  dear  friends.  I  have 
honestly  striven  to  make  my  subjects  happy,  and  feel  no  animosity  to- 
wards  them  for  refusing  the  boon  I  protTered.  I  should  like  to  have  in- 
scribed up'.n  my  tomb,  '  Here  lies  a  Prince  whose  intentions  were  pure, 
but  who  was  so  unfortunate  as  to  fail  in  every  honest  undertaking  of  hiJ 
life.  — 0,  h(»w  mistalcen  was  the  poet  who  wrote, 

'  Ijt  du  trone  an  cercncil  )e  passajre  est  terrible  !' 
I  do  not  deplore  the  loss  of  my  ihroce,  but!  feel  some  Hnqerina  re- 
grct  that  1  should   have  made  so  few  of  my  fellow-beings  happy*'— so 
many  of  them  ungrateful.     That,  however,  is' the  usual  lot  of  Princes  I'"*  " 

''  It  IS  the  lot  of  all  those  who  are  too  enlightened  for  their  times  !    It 
15  the  lot  of  all  great  men  who  would  elevate,  and  ennoble  the  masses  !" 
cried  Lacy.     "  It  is  the  fate  of  greatness,  to  be  the  martyr  of  stupiditv 
bigotry,  and  malice  !"  .*' ' 

"  Yes— that  is  the  word,"  said  Joseph  smiling."  I  am  a  martyr  but 
nobody  will  honor  my  relics."  ' 

"  Yes,  beloved  Sovereign,"  cried  Rosenberg  weeping.  "  your  Majesty's 
love,  we  shall  bear  about  our  hearts,  as  the  devotee  wears  the  relic  of  a 
martyred  saint." 

"  Do  not  weep  so,"  said  Joseph.     "  We  have  spent  so  many  happy 
days  together  that  we  must  pass  the  few  fleeting  hours  remaining  to  us 
in  rational  intercourse.     Show  me  a  cheerful  countenance,  Rosenberg 
you  from  whose  hands  I  received  my  last  cup  of  earthly  comfort.     What 
blessed  tidings  you  brought  me !     My  sweet  Elizabeth  is  a  mother,  and 
1  shall  carry  the  consciousness  of  her  happiness  to  the  grave.     I  shall  die 
with  07ie  joy  at  my  heart— a  beautiful  hope  shall  blossom  as  I  fall  !— 
Elizabeth  is  your  future  Empress ;  love  her  for  my  sake— you  know 
how  unspeakably  dear  she  is  to  me— And  now  that  1  think  of 'it,  1  have 
not  heard  from  her  since  this  morning.     How  is  she?" 
The  two  friends  were  silent,  and  cast  down  their  eyes. 
"  Lacy  !"  cried  the  Emperor,  and  over  his  inspired  features  there  pass- 
ed a  shade  of  human  sorrow.     "  Lacy,  speak— You  are  silent— O  God 
what  has  happened  ?— Rosenberg,  tell  me,  O  tell  me,  how  is  my  Eliza- 
beth, my  darling  daughter  V 

So  great  were  his  anxiety  and  distress  that  he  half  rose  in  his  bed 
l-hey  would  not  meet  his  glance,  but  Roisenberg  in  a  low  voice  replied. 
"  iu    ■^'■^^^"^^^ss  is  very  sick.     The  labor  was  long  and  painful." 
"Ah,  she  is  dead  !"  exclaimed  Joseph,  "  she  is  dead,  is  she  not '" 
Neither  of  his  weeping  friends  spoke  a  word,  but  the  Emperor  com- 
prehended their  silence. 

_JFalHng_back  upon  his  pillow  he  raised  his  wasted  arms  to  heaven. 
•  The  Emreror'i  own  word*.    Oharacteriettcj  of  Joseph  2d,  page  28. 


1  ;>,;  J'lSKPH   THti  SKCUND. 

'•O  God,  Thy  will  be  done !  but  my  sutrerlngs  are  beyond  expression  ! 
I  thought  thiit  I  had  outlived  sorrow,  buc  the  stroke  which  has  come  to 
embitter  iny  last  moments,  exceeds  all  that  1  have  endured  throughout 
;i  life  of  unchecqiiered  misery  !"* 

For  a  long  time  he  lay  co'd  and  rigid.  Then  raising  himself  upon 
his  arm,  he  signed  to  Rosenberg  to  approach.  His  eye  beamed  as  of 
erst,  and  his  whole  demeanor  was  that  of  the  Sovereign  who  has  learned 
above  all  things  to  control  himself. 

"  She  must  be  buried  with  all  the  tenderness  and  honor  of  which  she 
was  deserving,"  said  he.  "  Rosenberg,  will  you  attend  to  this  for  nie  ? 
Let  her  body  be  exposed  in  the  court-chapel  to-morrow.  After  that, 
lay  her  to  rest  in  the  itnperial  vaults  and  let  the  chapel  be  in  readiness 
to  receive  my  own  remains."! 

This  was  the  last  command  given  by  the  Emperor.  From  that  hour 
he  was  nothing  more  than  a  poor,  dying  mortal,  whose  last  thoughts  are 
devoted  to  his" Maker.  He  sent  for  his  confessor  and  asked  him  to  read 
something  appropriate  and  consolatory.  With  folded  hands,  his  large, 
violet  eyes  reverently  raised  to  heaven,  he  listened  to  the  holy  scriptu- 
ral words.     Suddenly  his  countenance  brightened  and  his  lips  moved. 

•'  Now  there  remaineth  Faith,  Hope,  and  Love,"  read  the  priest. 

The  Emperor  repeated  the  three  last  words.  "  Faith — Hope," — and 
when  he  pronounced  the  word,  "  Love  !"  his  face  was  illumined  with  a 
joy  which  had  its  source  far,  far  away  frotu  earth  ! 

Then  all  was  silent.  The  prayer  was  over,  and  the  dying  Emperor 
lay  motionless  with  his  hands  folded  upon  his  breast. 

Presently  his  feeble  voice  was  heard  in  prayer.  "  Father  thouknow- 
est  my  heart — Thou  art  my  witness  that  1  meant — to  do — well.  Thy 
will  be  done  !"J 

Then  all  was  still.  Weeping  around  the  bed,  stood  Lacy,  Rosenberg, 
and  the  Archduke  Francis.  The  Emperor  looked  at  them  with  staring 
eyes,  but  he  recognized  them  no  longer.  Those  beautiful  eyes  were 
dimmed  forever  ! 

Suddenly  the  silence  was  broken  by  a  long,  long  sigh. 

It  was  the  death-sigh  of  Joseph  the  Secoxd  ! 

•  The  Kmperor'8  own  vrords. 

t  .Togeph'8  own  words     See  Hnbncr  II,  P.  49t. 

X  Banashom,  page  449, 


Joseph  died  on  the  20th  of  February,  1190.  But  his  spirit  outlived  him,  and  sur- 
vives to  the  present  day.  His  subjects,  who  had  so  misjudged  him,  deplored  his 
loss,  and  felt  how  dear  he  had  been  to  them.  Now  that  he  was  dead— now  that 
they  had  broken  his  heai-t,  they  grieved  and  wept  for  him.  Poets  sang  his  praises 
in  elegies,  and  wrote  epitaphs  laudatory  of  him  who  may  be  considered  as  the  great 
martyr  of  political  and  social  culighlenment. 


THE  END. 


^ 


GOETZEL'S  LIST 


OF 


life  f! 


¥  mm 


LIGITIOI 


HARDEE'S  INFANTRY  TACTICS.     9tli  Edition. 
WHEELER'S  CAVALRY  TACTICS. 
LADY  AUDLEY'S  SIXRET. 
SILAS  MARNER. 

RAIDS  AND  ROMANCES  OF  MORGAN  AND  HIS 
•  MEN.     2nd  Edition. 

TANNHAUSER. 

THE  CONFEDERATE. 

CHAUDRON'S  SPELLING  BOOK. 

do  FIRST  READER.  J 

do  SECOND  READER. 

do.  THIRD  READER. 

THREE  MONTHS  IN  THE  SOUTHERN  STATES,, 
By  Lieut.  Col.  Fremantle. 


1 

i 


;?©.«'«> 


